Page 101 of Enchanted to Meet You

Jessica, meanwhile, had thrown down her napkin and headed outside. Her cheeks were bright pink—whether from the wine or seeing him drive down a closed road like an idiot, he had no idea—and her hair its usual chaotic mess of curls. She looked beautiful and warm and sexy in an oversized Fair Isle sweater and jeans, and Derrick wanted to kick himself for ever having left her side in the first place. He should have stayed last night and begged on his knees for her forgiveness.

Maybe he’d do it here, on the street, instead.

“Jess,” he began, swinging his leg from the bike.

But she didn’t let him say another word.

“Where. Have. You. Been?” she demanded, her fists on her hips.

Now he knew her cheeks weren’t pink from the wine or secondhand embarrassment. She was angry.

“I— You told me— You said to stay away,” he stammered.

“Yes,” she said. The blush was deepening. “But I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“I’d do whatever you asked me to do.” He was aware that people were gathering around them—some from the street, some from inside the restaurant, including his mother and Mark—but Derrick had eyes only for her. “Anything. You should know that by now.”

“Except wear a suit,” his mother said. She was standing on the sidewalk holding her glass of wine in her hand, thoroughlyenjoying herself. “I put him in the suit, Jessica, because he’d never wear one otherwise, and I knew you’d like it. Doesn’t he look handsome?”

Derrick sent his mother a withering look. “Mom. Please.”

“Well, youdolook handsome!” she cried, defensively. “Tell him, Jessica.”

Jessica grinned. Her blush was abating. “Your mother’s right. You do look handsome.”

He found himself grinning back at her.

“And the bike is for you, you silly boy,” his mother cried. “You’ve been complaining about that rental car for days, so I thought, why not give him one of those terrible motorbikes he likes so much? That way they’ll both be happy.”

Mark nodded at the Ducati. “Sweet ride there, man.”

Derrick’s grin widened. “Thanks, man.”

“Ma,” Mark said to his mother, who was standing on the sidewalk beside him, watching their little drama unfold. “Why don’t you get me a bike like that?”

“Why don’t you get married?” Mrs. Giovanni demanded, smacking him on the back of the head.

A crack of thunder sounded overhead, startling everyone. It was so long and so loud, it seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. Derrick glanced toward the square, thinking it had come from that direction, but he saw no clouds in that part of the sky. Then Jessica nudged his shoulder.

“No,” she said. “Look there.”

He looked where she was pointing. To the east, storm clouds were growing, piling up above the Sound like wrecked cars on an expressway.

He and Jessica weren’t the only people who’d noticed. Many of the tourists had seen the clouds, too, and were checking theirphones, confused since the forecast for the evening had called for clear skies just seconds before.

Locals, however, used to the intemperate northeastern weather, merely shrugged and headed for the square.

“Is this Rosalie?” Derrick asked his mother, urgently. “Or you?”

“Me?” Gaia’s eyes widened. “When haveIever tampered with the weather, especially to spoil a party? I love parties.”

But Jessica was the one who knew the answer.

“It’s not Rosalie,” she said firmly. “She worked hard on this event. She’d never ruin it with a storm—especially with Lizzie there.”

“Then this is the rift,” Derrick said. “It’s starting. And it’s worse than I’d thought. Brewster intends to try to exorcise the demons.”

Jessica shook her head. “And that’s bad because—?”