Page 48 of I Am Sin
I shake his hand. “Diana.” I look him up and down. “You don’t look like an Antonio.”
He cocks his head. “I don’t?”
“Antonios are supposed to be the dark Latin type. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin.”
“I’m Italian,” he says. “Northern Italian.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Carbone. What’s yours?”
“Steel.”
As usual, I get the wide eyes at that. “NottheSteels?”
I bite my lip. “Guilty.”
My family is well known in Colorado. They’re pretty much known nationwide. But Steel isn’t an uncommon name, so it always boggles my mind that people just assume I’m one oftheSteels.
“So I assume you work for your family?” Antonio asks.
I shake my head. “I’m an architect.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You mean your rich family doesn’t dabble in architecture? They have their hands in just about everything else.”
I decide not to take his comment the wrong way because I don’t think he means it to be rude. He’s right. The elders of my family are way more than just ranchers. You don’t become billionaires simply by ranching.
“They donothave their fingers in the architecture game,” I say. “I’ve gotten there on my own.”
“That’s cool.” He smiles. “Good for you.”
There’s something patronizing about what he just said, but again, I don’t think he meant it that way. Sometimes people just don’t know how to act when I tell them who my family is.
“What do you do?” I ask him.
“I own a music store,” he says. “It’s right on the outskirts of downtown. I sing and play guitar nights and weekends, but I’m off tonight.”
My interest is piqued. “A music store? Do you offer instruction?”
“Yeah, of course. You looking to learn to sing or play an instrument?”
“God, no,” I laugh. “I have no musical talent at all. But my roommate is a drummer. I know he’d like to get some students.”
“Really?” He strokes his chin. “Percussion is very popular. We can always use new instructors. What are his qualifications?”
“He’s a member of the band Dragonlock. They just went on tour with Emerald Phoenix.”
This time his jaw drops. “No shit? Yeah, have him call me.” He pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to me. “I wouldn’t mind ifyoucalled me either, Diana.” He gives me a smile.
“Maybe I will.” I smile back at him. He’s quite handsome, with broad shoulders, narrow hips. I’m so used to guys from the western slope. This guy has yuppie written all over him, despite his flannel shirt.
I’m about to open my mouth to ask more about his music store when Teddy comes strolling up.
“Hey, Dee, I see you met my cousin.”
This timeIwiden my eyes. “You guys are cousins?”
“Yeah,” Antonio says. “Guilty. Our mothers are sisters.”