Runaway (Wolfes of Manhattan 3)

“How can you buy me dinner if—”

“If I can’t afford a garbage disposal? I never said I couldn’t afford a garbage disposal. I said there was no need to replace it when this one works fine with a little nudging. Why waste the bucks when I don’t have to?”

She opened her mouth but then closed it.

She did that a lot.

“So…about dinner?” I was nothing if not persistent.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s a public place. Nothing to be frightened of.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“Then what’s the issue? You got a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. It’s a dinner invitation, Riley. Dinner. Nothing else.”

“You…have a key to this place.”

“Because it’s my place. Do you really think…?” I shook my head. “You know what? Forget dinner. Forget everything.” I turned, my body tense with anger, and walked toward the front door.

“Wait!”

I turned. She stood between the kitchen and living area, her lips parted.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I just… I’m not used to strange men being nice to me.”

I had to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor. I grinned instead. “I’d hardly call myself strange.”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “Not strange as in bizarre. Strange as in stranger. I don’t know you.”

“I knew what you meant. I’m just trying to lighten the mood here.”

“Why?”

“Because you definitely need to lighten up, Riley.”5RileyHe wasn’t wrong.

I’d come here to disappear, not lighten up. Unfortunately, lightening up wasn’t in the cards for me. Neither was disappearing, apparently. Matteo Rossi seemed damned determined that I not disappear.

A dinner invitation? Innocent enough. It was a dinner date. Just a dinner date.

Problem was? I was terribly inexperienced at dating.

My father had gotten rid of any suitor who was interested while I was still living at home. Once I left and was out on my own, things hadn’t changed much. I might steal a glance with a handsome man every now and then, only to find that same handsome man gone the next time I looked for him.

Even then, I’d never been attracted to a man the way I was attracted to Matteo standing in front of me.

No one knew I was here.

Not even my father.

He’d never know. Finally. He was in his grave, and though he wielded a lot of power, even he couldn’t conquer the ultimate foe—death.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Rossi,” I said finally. “I’d be delighted to accept.”

That gorgeous grin split his face once more. “Awesome. And it’s Matt.”

I nodded. “Matt.”

“Let’s go, then,” he said.

“I should change into something more suitable.”

“You look great.”

“For dinner? I can’t possibly—”

“You’re in Sumter Falls, Riley, not Pittsburgh. You are dressed perfectly.”

Interesting. I’d never gone to dinner wearing jeans and a T-shirt in New York. I had an image to maintain. I was Riley Wolfe, supermodel, daughter of billionaire Derek Wolfe.

But here I was no one.

Simply Riley.

Riley Mansfield.

Riley Mansfield wasn’t a supermodel.

Riley Mansfield lived in Pittsburgh, and I had no idea what she did for a living.

She was…a teacher. Yeah, a teacher. She taught high school business classes. Perfect, I could converse with this mountain man about business on a high school level.

Riley Mansfield taught high school business classes in Pittsburgh.

Riley Mansfield was a nobody from a nobody home in nobody Pittsburgh.

Riley Mansfield’s parents had a happy marriage and were living in their nobody home in middle-class Pittsburgh.

Riley Mansfield was a nobody. Invisible. And she liked her life.

The only problem?

Riley Mansfield didn’t exist.

But I could pretend. I was good at pretending. For a week, I could be Riley Mansfield, business education teacher from a happy Pittsburgh family.

And maybe, just maybe…I could feel Riley Mansfield’s happiness—if only just a little—this week.

“Okay, Matt,” I said. “Let’s go.”Trudy’s Café was a homey little place situated in a large residential home. It had been remodeled inside and housed two separate dining rooms, both tiny.

“Matt, great to see you!” the hostess said. “Your usual table?”

“That’d be great, Trudy.”

Okay, this was Trudy. She was a pert little thing, nearly a head shorter than I was, but then, I literally looked down on most women. She had a few silver streaks in her dark hair and wore vintage clothing—a prairie skirt and peasant blouse. Huge silver hoops hung from her ears. In spite of all this, she was striking. Not beautiful in a classic way, but something about her worked.

She led us to a side table right by a window. “Here you go. Menu’s on the board as usual. Enjoy.”

Matt held my chair out, which surprised me. Sure, I was used to such manners in the big city, but he’d made such a big deal out of this small-town life that I didn’t expect such chivalry.

I liked it.

Being a gentleman suited Matteo Rossi. Sure, he was dressed in Levi’s, a plaid flannel shirt, and his long hair was an unruly mass of blond waves, but he acted as though he were donning an Armani tux in the finest Manhattan restaurant.