“Will you stop,” Jenny huffed. “I sipped on two teeny little martinis. I’m just hungry because it’s late. Look.” She pointed out the tinted window, turning her head as they cruised past the red neon sign. “Cara Mia Trattoria. And it’s open.”

Cole spoke up from the bucket seat next to Mitch’s in the middle row. “If she can read Italian, she can’t be that bad off.”

Jenny smacked the back of Cole’s bucket seat. “I’m perfectly sober, people.”

Cole grinned, while Emily gave a shrug. “I could eat.”

Mitch turned forward to address the driver. “Can you take us back to Cara Mia?”

“Of course, sir,” the uniformed man responded. He checked the rearview mirror, then pulled a U-turn in advance of an upcoming red light, taking up the right-hand lane, before signaling to pull up to Cara Mia’s front door.

As the SUV came to a smooth halt, Mitch handed the man a twenty-dollar tip.

“Thank you, sir. You have the service’s number?”

“I do,” Mitch confirmed, yawning the door open.

“We’re on duty for the team until three.”

Mitch nodded his thanks and stepped out of the vehicle. He turned to offer his hand to Emily, who’d been sitting behind him, but his gaze moved reflexively to Jenny’s flirty skirt as she exited from Cole’s side.

“They have a deck,” she announced as she rounded the back of the SUV. Wisps of hair had worked loose from her knot and curled enchantingly around her bright face. “Do you think we can sit out there?”

Mitch curled her arm around his own, steadying her across the cobblestone drive. “I’m sure they’ll let us sit wherever we want.”

She inhaled. “I love the ocean.”

Wind bent the palm leaves, and rolling waves sounded rhythmically in the distance.

“Fresh air’s probably good for you,” he observed while she disentangled her arm from his and stepped toward the restaurant stairs.