by Maggie Gates
I stood at the graveside in between Melissa and Bridget. Chase, Kristin, and Hannah Jane were in the row behind us. One by one, we stepped forward and placed a rose on top of the casket. The preacher was saying something that was supposed to be comforting, but it was all in one ear and out the other. Even for it being a Wednesday morning, the cemetery was packed with mourners saying their goodbyes to Heather. I’d seen the headstone myself, and it made me angry.
Heather Catherine Pelham—loving wife, daughter, and friend
How could someone’s life be summed up on a headstone that way? That’s it? Wife, daughter, and friend? Everything in me wanted to leave, but I wouldn’t abandon Steve like that. I wouldn’t abandon the rest of my friends. Not today. Melissa was right—I was loyal to a fault. My eyes gazed across the sea of black suits and dresses, but one figure stuck out to me. He stood slightly outside the crowd, but was no less attentive to the funeral proceedings. And he was looking at me.
When the service ended and the crowd dispersed, I milled around for a moment, making promises to meet everyone at Jokers to drink in honor of Heather. Still, he lingered. I crossed the grass and headed for my Jeep. I was too focused on being careful to walk parallel with the burial plots to notice that Luca had caught up to me. “You look nice,” he said.
I looked down at the black dress I pulled out of my closet this morning. It hit just above my knees with a conservative neckline. I’d left my hair down even though the temperatures were going to crack triple digits in just a few hours. “Thanks,” I mumbled politely. “You, um… You didn’t have to be here. You didn’t even know her.”
Luca shook his head and opened my Jeep door. “Maybe not, but I know you.”
“Is this what you meant when you said you care for your staff?”
“Yeah. I would’ve shown up if it was Scott or Carol, but I wouldn’t have walked either of them to their car,” he chuckled.
“Luca, I’m not in the mood to fight with you today. I need to get going.”
He cracked a smile and rested his arm on the hood. “Good, because I don’t enjoy fighting with you.” He gave me a curious look when I sat in the driver’s seat and took off my black heels, tossing them in the passenger’s seat and trading them for my favorite sandals.
“You wore those in L.A.,” he mused. “On our date.”
“Don’t think you’re something special, Luca. I wear these every single day.” I grabbed the pair of denim shorts I had stashed in the back seat and shimmied them up under my dress.
His smile grew into a devilish smirk. Suddenly, the North Carolina heat had nothing on the fire I felt deep in my belly. “I didn’t think I was special, but then you went and called me Luca instead of Chef.” He pressed his hand over his heart and leaned in a little closer, “I like hearing you say my name, Madeline.”
I caught a whiff of something spicy and expensive. God, his cologne was going to be the death of me. Goosebumps flooded my bare arms. “Stop it,” I said as I stuck my key into the ignition, and my Jeep roared to life. Stifling air blasted out of the vents, but it quickly began to cool and I was grateful—I didn’t think I could stand any more heat between us. “You’re making me forget that I hate you.”
“Good. Because I don’t hate you.” He slammed my driver’s side door shut and just when I thought I’d gotten rid of him, he rounded the hood, opened the passenger’s side door, tossed my shoes into the floorboard, and got in. “Now, where are we going?”
“Get out of my car,” I snapped. I looked around for Chase or Steve. Hell, even Melissa at five-foot-nothing, would help get this interloper out of my vehicle, but everyone had already left. Dammit. Whatever. I reached around and lowered the zipper on the side of my dress. Whatever Luca had been looking at suddenly became unimportant because his eyes were glued to me. “I’m not giving you a striptease,” I snapped as I lifted my dress over my head, leaving me in my jean shorts and black bra. I snatched the tank top from the back seat and yanked it on as fast as I could.
He reached over and pinched the side of my shirt so he could read it. “Blame it all on my roots?”
I shot him a contentious glare, “If you haven’t heard of Garth Brooks, get out of my Jeep right here, right now.”
Luca looked relaxed as he loosened his cufflinks.
Of course he’s wearing cufflinks that probably cost as much as my car. He was Luca DeRossi, and I could not let myself forget that—no matter how much I wanted to straddle him in that seat, hike my dress up, and sink down onto the impressive package I’d gotten a teasing sample of in Los Angeles.
“And if I have heard of him, you’ll let me stay?”
“Probably not, but I’ll hate you a little less.”
“Wanna tell me why you hate me so much to begin with?” He asked.
“Nope.”
“Great. Then where are we going? I heard someone mention something about Jokers. It’s a bar, right?”
“Get out of my car, Luca.”
“I’m new in town,” he smirked. “Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for that southern hospitality that I’ve heard so much about?”
“Out,” I snapped.
Luca looked like he wanted to come across the center console, but he stayed rooted to his seat. Still, I could see the growing turmoil in his mind. “Maddie, listen to me,” he began, his voice low and raspy and calm. “You lost a friend and for that, I’m very sorry. But you and me? This thing between us? Whatever happened in California happened. We can’t pretend that it didn’t, or we’re not gonna be able to work together. I’m won’t push you, but I’m not letting this go, and I’m sure as fuck not forgetting about it.”
Assuming that he wasn’t getting out of my car anytime soon, I eased on the accelerator and headed down Highway 101 to Jokers. Luca reached to fiddle with the radio dial, and I swatted his hand away. “My car, my music. Don’t touch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I nearly growled. Why did his voice have to sound so damn sexy? Why did he have to look so comfortable in a three-piece suit?
“So, where are we going, Chef Dorsey?”
I rolled my eyes. I knew he was just calling me that to get under my skin, and unfortunately, it was effective. “Not here.”
“What do you mean, not here?”
“I mean, when we go to Jokers, you call me Maddie—not Chef Dorsey.”
He licked his lips and the memory of my mouth latched onto his washed over me like a tidal wave. I shifted in the driver's seat, nearly swerving off the road. Luca reached over and put his hand on the wheel to steady the Jeep.
“And I thought California had terrible drivers,” he muttered with a grin. His eyes cut over to me again. “So, Maddie, are you gonna call me Luca or Chef DeRossi?”
His hand moved away from the wheel, but instead of keeping to his side of the Jeep, he rested his arm on the center console and trailed his fingers along the frayed hem of my shorts. I wanted to swat his hand away, but I didn’t. I just leaned back in my seat and kept driving.
“Or you could call me Luke.”
I cut my eyes in at him, “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t—”
“You said your name was Luke and when we met you didn’t look like,” I waved my hand toward his rather sexy suit, “Like that.”
“So, what? I have to show a pretty woman my birth certificate and two forms of I.D. before taking her on a date just because I didn’t shave that morning?”
His sleeve had gotten pushed up as he continued to ghost his fingers over my thigh, his ink peeking out from behind his Rolex. “I never knew you had tattoos.”
“Most people don’t. I keep ‘em covered when I’m being Luca DeRossi,” he said, mocking the way I had differentiated between his two personas. His hand skated down to my knee, and I whimpered instinctively, wanting him to move it back up my thigh again. “And to be fair, my family calls me Luc. Just not L-u-k-e.”
I was thankful when the gravel lot that the bar sat on came into sig
ht. Luca was slowly chipping away at my defenses, and that just wouldn’t do. I pulled into a spot beside Steve’s Challenger and cut the engine. Turning to Luca, I said, “Lose the jacket.”
“Excuse?”
I waved my finger around his torso. “Jacket off. You look like money.”
“And the problem is?”
“This isn’t the place you go to flash your wad of hundreds. Jacket off, watch off.”
Luca cocked his head and flashed me that perfect smile. “Anything else you want to come off?” He teased and looked around the tight interior of my Jeep. “I mean, it’s a little small, but we can have a good time in here. You just say the word, beautiful.”
I swatted his chest, and my hand ricocheted off it like a ping-pong ball against a brick wall. “Keep your pants on.” I got out and locked the doors behind me. Thankfully, Luca took my advice and stepped out onto the gravel in his perfectly tailored pants and white button-up. He had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. I sucked in a shallow breath as sweat and lust lingered in the valley between my breasts.
I remembered what it felt like for him to hold me. To hold my hand. To kiss me. To pull me close and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Those memories were the only things I could think about ever since he showed up in Beaufort. I felt his hand slide onto the small of my back, and I jumped back instinctively. “What are you doing?”
If my reaction put him off, he didn’t show it. He simply moved his hand higher to rest between my shoulder blades. “Walking you inside.”
“Luca—”
With two quick steps, he turned and had my back pinned to the door of my Jeep. The handle bit into my spine, but I didn’t dare move. His hips pushed against mine and his eyes zeroed in on me. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“Because you’re an ass.”
He clicked his tongue and gave me a terse shake of his head. “You can do better than that, Mad.”
“You’re not as good as you think you are.”
“In the kitchen or in bed?” He asked as he took a chance and rocked the bulge in his pants between my thighs.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and it caught in my throat. My eyes fluttered shut, and Luca chuckled quietly, knowing that he had won that round. I wasn’t letting him take the win that easily. “Both,” I croaked out breathlessly.
Luca leaned in, cocked his head, and brushed his lips against the outer shell of my ear. “Did something happen when you worked at my restaurant in New York? Is that it, Madeline? Because I would have remembered you, and I don’t.” His hand slipped under the hem of my tank and dug into my hip. “Tell me what I did so we can put it to bed.”
I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew that as soon as I did, I’d have to admit how much I wanted him. It wasn’t just that he was my boss now—it’s that I didn’t like admitting that I was wrong.
And maybe I had been entirely wrong about Luca DeRossi.
Before I could decide whether I was going to talk about New York, a deep voice came from the direction of the bar. “Hey,” Steve bellowed. I looked over Luca’s shoulder and saw Steve and Chase on a warpath toward us.
“Get off her, shit dick,” Chase shouted. Melissa, Kristin, and Hannah Jane stood crowded in the doorway, watching the action.
Luca took a wise step back and raised his hands. I stepped forward to block Steve from taking a cheap shot at Luca. I hated when the two of them went all big brother on me. “Steve, stop.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are, putting your hands on Maddie?” He spat.
Catching a break between customers and not wanting to miss the action, Bridget had joined the girls in the doorway, and the four of them were heading toward us. I cursed the fact that I would have to play devil’s advocate and took a step back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Luca. Melissa had already put two and two together and was tapping her fingers together like a mad scientist. Chase looked like he was three seconds from leaving a Luca-shaped dent in the hood of Steve’s car. Steve looked like he was about to rip Luca limb from limb. Melissa took a step forward, putting her hand on Steve’s arm and tugging him backward.
“Fuck me,” I groaned under my breath. It’s either feed Luca to the wolves, or play the southern belle. I sighed and looked around at my friends. “Y’all, this is Luca DeRossi.”
12
———
LUCA
Well, that could have gone worse. Steve could have flattened my face the way it looked like he wanted to. Maddie could have hung me out to dry, but she didn’t.
Fuck me. Watching her change out of her little black dress in the front seat of her Jeep had been a test of self-restraint that I nearly failed. Now I was punishing myself by staying at the hole-in-the-wall bar rather than calling myself an Uber and heading back to my beach rental.
My phone lit up with Astrid’s name, and I ignored it. It would piss her off, but she worked for me—not the other way around. Maddie was swinging around the filthy dancefloor like she owned the place with the bartender whose name, I learned, was Bridget. With the number of drinks Maddie had sucked down in just a few hours, she should have stock in the place.
“Oh my God!” She squealed in drunken giddiness as she made a beeline for me. “Did you know that you’re Luca DeRossi,” she gasped.
I chuckled and rested my hand on her waist to keep her from tipping over. “That I am.”
“I hate you, you know,” she admitted much too cheerfully for my taste as she rocked back and forth.
“I know.”
“But you,” she began as she stabbed me square in the chest with one pointed finger, “Don’t know whyyyyyy!”
“Alright, Mad Dog,” Bridget said as she rounded the bar and slid Maddie a glass of water. “Why don’t you sit down by Mr. DeRossi and drink that while I get you something from the kitchen.”
“Fried pickles!” Maddie shouted.
Bridget gave her a searing assessment. “Have you eaten today?”
Maddie rolled her eyes, “Yes, mother.”
“What.”
“Cereal before the funeral.” At the sound of the last word, Maddie sulked. I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol-induced petulancy or her stifled grief finally working its way to the surface.
Bridget disappeared to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a plate covered with French fries surrounding a mammoth turkey sandwich, and set it in front of Maddie. “Make sure she eats all of that,” she instructed me as she refilled Maddie’s glass with more water. “You need anything?”
“No, ma’am,” I said as I shook my head and reached across the bar to offer her my hand. “Luca DeRossi.”
Bridget giggled, “Oh, I know who you are, Abs.”
I smirked and brushed off Bridget’s teasing. “Right, the text from L.A.”
She glanced over at Maddie as she wolfed down the sandwich. “Do me a favor and look after her, will ya?”
Before I could respond to Bridget, one of the guys from earlier sided up to the bar. “This guy givin’ you trouble, Bee?”
I wanted to slide off that barstool and rear up for a fight. How dare this jackass insinuate that just because Maddie had an issue with me, that I was automatically the one at fault.
Bridget brushed her hair over her shoulder and shook her head, “Cool it, Detective Brannan. He’s fine.”
I raised an eyebrow and turned my head toward the guy, “You’re a cop?”
He gave me a nod but didn’t show that he’d entertain a handshake, so I didn’t offer one. “Chase Brannan.”
“Luca DeRossi.”
“Yeah, I got that much from Maddie.”
I racked my brain for any morsel of information that I knew I’d stored away. In Los Angeles, Maddie mentioned that two of her friends were cops, and one of them was her neighbor. “You Maddie’s neighbor or the other one?”
“Probably the other one. Steve and Heather—Steve’s her neighbor.”
I looked at the glass of whiskey I’d been
nursing for the better part of two hours and nodded. “I, uh, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“No, you’re not, but thanks anyway.”
That made me crack a smile, “What? I’m just here trying to practice some southern hospitality. When in Rome, right?”
“If you wanted to do as the Romans, you’d be eating boiled peanuts and drinking something on tap—not the overpriced, top-shelf liquor you got there.”
I turned to the seat that Maddie had abandoned and looked at the dancefloor where she had returned to dancing like an absolute moron. An adorable, heart-stopping, beautiful moron. I straightened up and took a sip of the room temperature whiskey. “Just pacing myself. Figured Maddie would need a ride home.”
Chase stiffened up and pressed his hands against the oak bar. “And you think any of us are gonna let her get in a car with you?”
“Doesn’t matter what you think, now does it? She’s a grown woman.”
“And you’re a dick. You even think about leaving any way except alone, and I’ll turn you into chum and sprinkle you in the ocean.”
“Chase,” Bridget soothed. She reached over the bar and put her hand on his and he visibly relaxed. She offered me a kind smile and a set of keys. “These are Maddie’s. Make sure she gets home safe.”
I chuckled and took the set of keys from her. Chase clearly wasn’t a fan of the idea, but I didn’t give two shits about what he thought of it. “How’d you get your hands on Maddie’s keys?” I’d been watching her for most of the day and never saw her hand them over to anyone.
Bridget laughed, tossing her head back, and I snuck a glance at Chase. He was all puppy-dog-eyed and dreamy, staring at Bridget. The man looked like a lovesick kid. “We all take turns being the designated pickpocket. She lives on the bay. You can just follow Steve home whenever he heads out.”
I looked across the bar until I saw the man I assumed to be Steve. He had made himself at home at a high-top table and had a glass of something strong in his hands. A short girl with dark skin and a bright smile was across from him. Weird. Maddie had just been with her. I scanned the bar again until my eyes landed on Maddie, who was—aw, hell.
