The following Friday I put my plan into motion and drive myself to the road on her driver's license. This dirt road seems to go on forever. I haven't seen one single house for at least seven or eight miles. My instincts kick in and something tells me this road leads to nowhere. It's almost the road has been stuck back in time for decades.

"What the hell is up with this creepy ass road? Something is off," I whisper. 

A few more miles down this road I decide to find somewhere to turn around and drive back, but there is nowhere to turn. I feel the frustration building inside of me and press the gas pedal. I finale make it to the end of the road and look to the right and see this beautiful old Victorian three story white house.  The huge dolphin waterfalls fountain catches my eye along with the immaculate kept flower garden.

"Wow! This is so beautiful. Is this her house?"

I glide myself out of the car and start to make my way over towards the front door, it opens and there she stands staring at me. Her red hair pulled up into a messy bun, her tight blue jeans shorts revealing her long-tanned legs, her white tank top fitting snug around her breasts. It's all I can do to keep my composure.

"Good after noon, Dorothy. Remember me?" 

"I do remember you, Stefano. I'm hoping the reason you showed up at my house is because you found my wallet and are returning it to me," she says. I lift up her wallet and see a faint smile form across her face.

"Thank God. I'm assuming all of my credit cards and cash is still in that wallet."

"Trust me when I say, I do not need nor do I want your money, Dorothy. I have plenty of my own," I reply steep in front of her on the large porch.

"Good, thank you for bringing it to me," she says as she steps back next to the door.

"I don't even deserve to be asked in for a cup of coffee?"

"You really think you deserve a cup of coffee?" a playful grin covers her face. 

"Well, yes, I believe I at least deserve a cup of coffee after driving over thirty minutes to bring you your wallet," I reply and watch her step to the side of the door allowing me entrance to the house.

"And do you also think you deserve homemade meatballs and homemade spaghetti? with a nice garden salad and breadsticks?" She asks and a big smile spread over my face hearing her name my favorite foods.

"You literally just named some of my favorite foods. I'm not about to turn that down," I smile.

"Well then, follow me," she leads us to a beautiful old style country kitchen.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you were raised in the country," I smile lowering myself onto the yellow metal chair the matches the yellow table.

"Whatever gave you that idea, Stefano?" she teases with playful wink.

"I have to say, this is a beautiful old Victorian house, Dorothy." 

"Thank you. It was my dream house as a kid and after I graduated from college, I was lucky enough to be able to buy it from my trust fund my grandparents left me."

"A trust fund kid, huh?" I tease her.

"Well, yes, but I have always worked from the age of fifteen. Nothing was ever handed to me. With the exception of my trust fund."

"I know how you feel. I also started working from a young age," I reply as she places the plate of spaghettini in front of me and cup of coffee in front of me.

"My very first job was working in a library. What was your first job, Stefano?" she asks, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I did some odd job for different people. Didn't pay bad. I was able to get my fist apartment at the age of eighteen," I reply.

"Impressive," she simply says.

"Hope I'm not getting too personal, but do you live her all alone?"

"Why, do you have some sort of sick plan to come back and murder me in my sleep? "She chuckles.

"Very funny. No, of course not," I retort.

"Yes, I do live here all alone."

"What would you think about me coming back this coming Friday and I show you my Italian cooking skills?" I ask and can see I have piqued her curiosity.

"You can cook?"

"Yes, I've been cooking since I was twelve years old. My Nonna taught me," I reply.

"Is seven good for you?" she asks.

"Perfect. You choose what you want me to cook for us, Dorothy."

"Hmm, I do love any Italian food. I think I'll choose, stuffed shell, garden salad and cheese stuffed bread sticks. Oh, and a nice bottle of red wine," she smiles.

"I think I can handle that. So, it's a dinner date then?" she extends her hand out to me. I place mine in hers and gently kiss the top of her like before at the mall.

"Do all Italian men kiss a lady's hand? She softly asks. I lift me head to look into her beautiful blue eyes. 

"Personally, for me, only the one I want to get to know more, is the hand I'll kiss, and I find irresistible."

"I must be out of my mind allowing myself to go to this place with a man I just met and now, I allow you into my house and I'm allowing you to come back," she whispers. My hand gently tightens around her own, our eye refuse to leave each other's and the attraction between insists on growing.

"I never do anything like this, Dorothy. There is something about you I just can't force myself to walk away from. You have invaded my thoughts, it's almost like you put a spell on me and I don't want to break it."

"Then don't, Stefano. Let's see where this takes us. I'm willing to give us a try if you are."

"I am, Dorothy. Then it's official. We have a date Friday evening. I look forward to it."

"So do I."