Poker Face: A Small Town Romance (The Beaufort Poker Club Book 1)

by Maggie Gates

  Maddie leaned her head on my arm, “I feel like I’ve been nervous this whole trip. It’s been… a lot.”

  I glanced at her and then forced my eyes back to the road. “A lot good or a lot bad?”

  “Just a lot.”

  That was the worst possible answer she could have given me. I pulled my arm away and scraped my thumbnail over my lip, shifting my hands on the steering wheel. “Mad, if you’re not in this with me, just fucking tell me.”

  She pressed her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m just trying to keep up.”

  “Listen to me,” I snapped. “I don’t know what shitheads you’ve been with in the past, but I don’t know how to convince you that I’m not like them any other way than by showing you how fucking crazy I am about you. I know that this is a lot, and I know it’s moving fast, but I’m not interested in wasting my time when I know what I want, and what I want is you.”

  Her eyebrows knitted together, and she grimaced in a way that made me think she was in actual pain. The woman sitting next to me was not the quick-tempered, sassy-mouthed, hell in heels Madeline Dorsey I knew. My parents’ house came into view, and I pulled off beside the curb and put the car in park. “I want you, and it scares me,” she admitted.

  “I know it does.”

  “I want you, and I need you, and that scares me.” Her voice quieted and she added on, “I don’t like needing people.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched with a sly smile. “I know that too.”

  “I haven’t met a guy’s family since high school.”

  “I’ve never brought a girl home.”

  Her eyebrows raised and she finally made eye contact with me. “Really?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  She bit her lip and looked down at my hand as it rested on the gearshift. “I’m not ready to say it,” she blurted out in an anxious mess. Her wide eyes looked up and met mine, and I couldn’t help but feel a little gutted. “I’m just…”

  I shook my head, “Like I said—I love you enough for the both of us. I’ll keep loving you until you’re ready.”

  She looked out the window at my parents’ house and then back at me. “Hold my hand?”

  “Sempre, Tesoro,” I promised. “Always.” I got out and opened her door for her.

  Maddie stepped out and looked at the house. “This is where you grew up?”

  “The very place,” I said.

  It had been months since I’d seen everybody, but there was never a doubt in my mind that this was home. We made our way up the cracked concrete path that led up to the front door. Before we even made it to the stoop, the screen door flew open, and a kid with jet black hair and a cocky grin came strutting with all the swagger that a thirteen year old could possibly muster.

  “What’s up, Tris?” I asked.

  “‘Sup, Uncle Luc,” My nephew, Tristan replied, nodding his head like the little punk he pretended to be. He was wearing a Yankees hat, just like the one I had on. My oldest sister, Daniella, always said Tristan was my mini-me. When I promised that I’d take him for his first tattoo when he got old enough, she nearly beat me over the head with a dinner plate.

  I leaned down and muttered in Maddie’s ear, “Told you they call me Luc.”

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t conceal the smile toying at the corner of her mouth.

  I laced our fingers together and led her inside. “Ma! We’re here.” Big mistake. I should have kept my mouth shut. The minute the door slammed behind us, all hell broke loose. “Brace yourself,” I groaned.

  Maddie looked up at me with panic in her eyes as we stood in the narrow entryway that was covered with the same beige and maroon wallpaper that had been there since I was in diapers. “For what?”

  “My family.”

  On cue, the DeRossi herd stampeded from the kitchen to the foyer. “Bino! You get your ass over here this instant!” My mother led the charge and flung her arms around me. Flour sprayed off her apron and onto my henley, but I didn’t care.

  “Mi sei mancata, Ma,” I croaked out while she strangled me like an anaconda.

  “Oh my GOD!” I heard my sister, Anna-Marie, shout. “Dani! She’s actually real! Come see!”

  I wiggled out of my mom’s grasp to save Maddie from the inquisition. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her into my side. “She’s real, so don’t scare her off. Got it?” I looked down at Maddie and grinned, “I like this one.” My mom and sisters nearly crashed into the wall, pretending to faint, but the crowd parted as Nonna came marching out of the kitchen. She stood toe-to-toe with Maddie, but barely came up to her waist. “Nonna, questa è la mia ragazza, Madeline,” I said, introducing Maddie to my grandmother.

  “You can just call me Maddie,” she said, smiling politely. “Luca’s told me all about y’all.”

  “Oh my God, your accent is adorable!” Daniella squealed. “Luca’s told me all about y’all,” she mimicked, sounding more like she was from The Beverly Hillbillies than North Carolina.

  Nonna looked up at Maddie. “I hear you are a cook too?”

  “She’s a pastry chef, Nonna.”

  Nonna just tut-tutted me and took Maddie’s hand. “Come. You’ll help me make the pasta. But first, we drink wine.”

  Maddie grinned as Nonna dragged her toward the kitchen and mouthed, “I like her.”

  “Bino—it took you finding the love of your life to come and visit. What’s the matter with you?” Ma scolded once Maddie was barely out of earshot.

  It’d been a long time since I’d heard her call me Bino, and I missed it. The way I toyed with my public image made me look like I was a playboy, but contrary to popular belief, I was always monogamous and being an active part of my family meant a hell of a lot to me. When my head would get big, I could always count on them to keep me grounded. Absolutely no one in the DeRossi family had a filter, and now my girlfriend was drinking wine with my ninety year old grandma. Nothing good could come of that.

  I chuckled and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Ma, she’s just my girlfriend. Don’t go scaring her off, ‘aight? It’s only been a couple’a months.” Geez—five minutes in Brooklyn and my New York accent was back.

  “Just your girlfriend?!” Ma shrieked as she swatted my stomach. “Don’t tell me lies, Luc. You come in here making those eyes at that girl, and I half expected there to be a ring on her hand! I see what I see!”

  “Tesoro, give the boy a break,” My dad chimed in as he shuffled toward us. For as long as I could remember, my dad had called my mother Tesoro. Almost sixty years of marriage later, he still looked at her the same way he did in their wedding photos when they said I do at eighteen.

  Never once had I called a girlfriend Tesoro. To me, that was what you called your true love. My parents painted an intimidating picture of a successful marriage. They fought with each other hard and loud, but they loved one another even harder. Living up to that example was scary as shit. The first time I had called Maddie Tesoro—my darling, my treasure—I didn’t even think about it until after the words were out. It just felt right.

  “Dad,” I said as my father pulled me into a back-slapping bear hug.

  He looked me in the eye and asked, “Is she as pretty as the girls are saying?”

  I cracked a smile. There was no way in hell I could hide my grin. “She is.”

  Anna-Marie grabbed my arm and dragged me into the living room, “Come meet your newest niece, Luc.” I followed her until the hallway split into the open concept living room and kitchen. My two brothers-in-law were on the couch watching Sports Center. Anna-Marie walked over to her husband, Danny, and scooped up their baby girl. “Valentina,” she cooed, “Meet your Uncle Luc.”

  “Hey there, pretty girl,” I soothed as I took her from Anna-Marie and bounced her in my arms. Like the rest of the women in my family, she had olive skin and tufts of inky black hair. Valentina opened her eyes and let out a gurgling laugh. I looked over my shoulder at Maddie who was staring back
at me over the rim of her wine glass. She had a coy smile on her lips as Nonna kept talking her ear off. Apparently, Valentina didn’t like sharing the attention. She let out a high-pitched squeal to make her displeasure known.

  With their wine glasses empty, Nonna grabbed the ball of pasta dough that had been resting and instructed Maddie on just how to do things. I’m sure Maddie had made pasta a million times over, but Nonna would insist on teaching her the right way. Arguing was futile. I cradled Valentina in my arms and walked over to the kitchen island. Maddie dusted the countertop with a pinch of semolina and rolled out the dough according to Nonna’s orders. I had learned early that it didn’t matter how good I was at being a professional chef—in Nonna’s kitchen, she was the boss.

  “Very good, passerotta,” Nonna smiled, patting Maddie’s wrist. “You have good hands. Not like polpetto there,” she said, pointing a crooked finger at me. “My Luca has fingers like sausages. Such a shame he has clumsy hands.”

  Maddie giggled. I passed behind her and whispered that Nonna had called her little sparrow, and called me a meatball. Thanks for that, Nonna.

  “Luca made raviolo al’ uovo for me a while ago,” she told Nonna. “He said it was a family recipe?”

  Maddie’s comment simultaneously redeemed me from the curse of apparently having clumsy hands and impressed Nonna. It also made Nonna dive into telling stories about me as a child. Maddie worked meticulously as my grandmother went on and on. I was a little nervous about leaving her alone, but she seemed comfortable in the kitchen.

  “She fits,” Daniella said when I joined her on the deck just off the living room. She was the oldest out of the three of us DeRossi siblings. I had no doubt that the flecks of silver in her dark hair were the result of her nearly-feral kids, Tristan, Marco, and Guilia. “Nonna certainly likes her.”

  “I love her,” I admitted.

  Daniella looked surprised, but just shrugged and said, “She’s the first one you’ve let us meet. I figured it was serious. It’s about time.” My family erred on the side of young marriages. My grandparents married when my Nonna was sixteen and my Nonno was seventeen. My parents were both eighteen. Daniella was twenty-one when she and Enzo said their vows. Anna-Marie and Danny were the oldest, getting married at twenty-four and twenty-seven. At thirty-six years old, I was the odd one out. “You gonna put a ring on it?”

  “Working on it. Took a lot of convincing to get her to go out with me in the first place. I, uh, I doubt she’ll make forever easy on me.”

  “Good. You need someone to knock you down a peg or two since you’re never around here.”

  “Gee, and y’all wonder why I’m always gone,” I joked.

  Daniella laughed long and loud, “You did not just say y’all. Oh my God, Luc—”

  “I bought a house in North Carolina,” I said just to shut her up. “Don’t say anything to Mad.”

  My sister’s smile softened. “Good for you. Happy looks good on you.”

  “Pshh—I always look good.”

  “There he is,” Daniella laughed. “For a second I thought she’d totally tamed you and I was going to have to have her teach me her ways so I can keep Tris in check.” She caught my gaze as I peered back through the sliding glass door, keeping an eye on Maddie. “Have you met her family yet?”

  I shook my head and looked back at the yard. “Nah, it’s, uh, it’s just her—kind of. I mean, she’s an only child. Her dad left when she was a kid and her ma’s in a home—she’s got dementia.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you met her ma at least?”

  “No. Maddie—she’s a little cagey about it.”

  Daniella looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen where our mom had joined Maddie and Nonna. “Must be a big change for her—going from being alone to being, well, here with all of us.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. On the drive over, Maddie looked like she wanted to crawl in a hole and die. It felt like she was pulling away from me and that terrified me. I never considered that maybe the idea of family might scare her. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Maybe.”

  34

  ———

  MADELINE

  Dinner with the DeRossis was a riot. Nonna was literally my favorite person on earth and my new drinking buddy. We were sipping on our second—or third—glasses of wine when Luca’s dad wandered over and tapped my shoulder.

  “Come with me,” he directed.

  I glanced over to where Luca was in deep conversation with his mom before following his dad to a small sitting room right off the front of the house. Mr. DeRossi pulled out a cloth-covered photo album and sat down on the yellow upholstered loveseat. He patted the spot beside him, and I sat down dutifully. He opened the photo album, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “That’s Luca, right?” I asked.

  “When he was seven. Got himself stuck up a tree. I wouldn’t help him down. He figured out how to get up; he could figure out how to get down. My Tesoro took a picture, though.”

  “Wait, you call Mrs. DeRossi—” I began, taken aback. The way he referred to his wife with that name carried a weight that wasn’t lost on me. “You call her Tesoro?”

  He nodded as he turned the page to a photo where Luca and his two older sisters were all crammed in a bath full of bubbles. “Since the day we met.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “The only time we call each other by our names is when we fight. She’s my greatest treasure. Even more than my Daniella, Anna-Marie, and Luca—and I would die for them.”

  “That’s really beautiful.”

  For a long time, we sat and flipped through photo album after photo album. Sometimes he would tell me the stories behind the photos, other times we just looked in silence. Occasionally I would ask him questions and he would tell me about Luca growing up.

  I was nervous about being around Luca’s dad simply because my track record with dads wasn’t the greatest. The whole way to Brooklyn, my blood had burned with jealousy. It was a stupid reaction to meeting my boyfriend’s family, but not once had I ever claimed to be reasonable.

  I had always craved everything that Luca had—to be a part of a big, loud family. I wanted the hoards of kids running around and the good-natured shouting matches between siblings. All I ever had was quiet. And silence was always deafening.

  My mother worked her ass off to provide for the two of us after my dad skipped town. She did the best she could and I thanked my lucky stars that she was my mom. Her example gave me a work ethic that put most everyone else to shame. She taught me the value of stretching a dollar and budgeting. She made sure that I surrounded myself with good friends.

  Still, when it came time for me to go on my first date, I didn’t have a dad around to scare the hell out of that unlucky boy by sitting on the front porch with a shotgun. While my friends were at daddy-daughter dances, I faked having the flu. YouTube taught me how to change a tire and check my oil and tire pressure. On parents’ weekend when I was at culinary school, I told my roommates that my folks couldn’t make it because they couldn’t get off work. That, at least, was partially true. Mom could rarely take a day off, and I imagined that my dad was setting up for a show at some dive bar somewhere.

  There were hugs all around as we said our goodbyes. Luca’s sisters put their numbers in my phone so we could keep in touch, and Nonna made me promise to come back and cook with her. Luca’s dad gave me a bear hug, and I choked back the tears that were welling up.

  We walked hand in hand back to the car. Luca opened my door before hopping in and heading back to the Upper West Side. When we pulled up to his building, he opened my door while the valet hopped in to go park.

  “You hungry?” He asked as we walked inside.

  I giggled, “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for days. I’m so stuffed.”

  “That's what happens when you eat with my family. No one ever goes hungry. Nonna won’t allow it,” he grinned, giving my hand a squeeze as we took the elevator up to his floor.<
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  “I really like them,” I said as we walked down the hallway.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “They’re exactly what I thought they’d be like.”

  Luca laughed, “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s a good thing,” I promised as I flipped the lights on and kicked my shoes off. It was our last night in New York. We were on the first flight back to North Carolina in the morning. I planned to make a quick stop to see my mom before heading straight to the restaurant.

  With our bags mostly packed, I went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that was nesting deep inside. The jealousy I had felt on the way to Brooklyn had shattered into something more. It turned into desire. I wasn’t jealous of Luca. I wanted Luca. I wanted him more than I had wanted anything. When he walked into the bedroom after making sure that the lights in the rest of the apartment were off, he found me standing at the foot of the bed, still in my jeans and sweater, waiting for him just like he had asked me the first time I went to his beach house for dinner.

  “Maddie?” His voice was a low rumble.

  I looked up at him. My lips parted and I sucked in a nervous breath. “I—”

  Either he was a mind reader or he had recalled the same memory I did. Luca stood in front of me and ghosted his fingers over the side of my sweater. His other hand came up and stroked my cheek. “Tell me what you want, Tesoro.”

  I leaned into his touch, resting in the comfort that I felt there. “Luca…”

  “Tell me what you need.”

  His eyes were dark, like melted chocolate. Warm. Comforting. Sensual. My tongue peeked out, and I wetted my lips. Luca tracked the movement like a hawk. I placed my hands on his broad chest and held his gaze. “I need you to make love to me.”