by Sam Mariano
“Well, yes,” Carly drawls. “But I meant regarding things that matter, not a lame job serving $4 burgers at a diner in Connecticut. Like, if NASA offers you a job but Bobby Joe wants you to stay in Chicago and make him sandwiches, obviously you abandon Bobby Joe and take the job with NASA.”
“Bobby Joe? Maybe we should discuss why I’m dating a man with two first names.”
“He’s really good with his tongue.”
Laurel cocks her head in consideration. “All right, that helps a little.”
“Yeah, he’s super hot. But he hates NASA. Thinks global warming is a lie. Thinks outer space is fake—the footage you’ve seen is all done on a green screen. He thinks the earth is flat, actually. His argument is that otherwise, we would all just slide right off.” Carly shakes her head. “I’d make fun of him at Christmas dinner, but he doesn’t let you come anymore. Wants to stay home and watch baseball while you rub his feet and tend to his eight children by other women.”
Laurel narrows her eyes. “I feel like there’s no tongue adequately skilled to explain why I’m with this person. Also, I believe baseball season ends before Christmas.”
“It does,” I offer, since at least that, I can remark on.
“Bobby Joe watches a special league that plays year round. But at least he has a really interesting job. He runs cock fights at an underground arena. Don’t worry, though. He’s saving up to buy a new car. Something practical, like a red Camaro.”
“We’ll certainly be able to fit his eight children in one of those.”
“He has one on the way, too. One night he made a lot of money at his cock fighting job and partied it up with a hooker. He was really sorry, though. He brought you home an ice cream sandwich as an apology present. That’s also what he got you for your last anniversary.”
Laurel slams her hands down on the tabletop. “That’s it. I can’t handle it. I need to break up with Bobby Joe.”
Carly nods her head. “That’s what I’m saying. Vibrators exist for a reason, and that reason is so that no woman ever has to date Bobby Joe.”
I shake my head, pulling out my phone to check the time. “You two are weird.”
Carly flashes me a grin. “I should have warned you more adequately, huh?”
“So, what do you do, Vince?” Laurel asks, launching her investigation into whether or not I’m good enough for her big sister.
“Work at a bar,” I inform her. “Is that above or below running cock fights on your scales of suitability?”
“Definitely above,” Carly offers, then continues to explain, “Vince is going to own his own bar someday. Wild Aces.”
“Oh yeah? That’s awesome.”
“I’m pretty much convinced the earth is round, too,” I add.
Laurel nods. “I’m glad. I’m a student of science, so I would be sad if Carly fell in love with a Bobby Joe. No illegitimate kids running around out there? Do you own a red Camaro?”
I smirk. “Nope, no kids. No Camaro.”
“And you’re nice to my sister? I know we just woke you up earlier and Carly said you’re crabby when you first wake up, but I would have to kick your ass if you were mean to my sister. My sister is wonderful and you’re lucky to have her.”
She’s dead serious when she delivers that last part. Even though she’s younger than me, pleasant, and 100lbs soaking wet, I understand she means business. I sit up and give her a nod of understanding. “I know I am. I’ll be nice to your sister.”
Laurel grins. “Good.”
“Is there a specific reason you ladies are so hard on guys with red Camaros?”
Laurel’s smile slips and she rolls her eyes. “Car guys just always suck. Carly dated a couple and they were complete douches. Personally, I’ve only dipped my toe in the car guy waters. I went on a single, amazing date with this really funny, sexy, cool guy—or, I thought he was really cool—and about halfway through dinner he went cold for seemingly no reason and took me home. Never heard from him again. He picked me up in a red Camaro, so now the red Camaro is our evil bastard car of choice.”
I smile faintly. “My cousin has a red Camaro. Has a couple other sports cars, too. Good thing you’ll never meet him; I guess you wouldn’t get along.”
“The polyamorous one? In the interest of academic research, I could set aside my feelings about that and interview him. I mean, converse with him,” she adds, smiling slyly.
I shake my head. “Nah, not that one. Alec. Different cousin.”
Laurel frowns.
“Oh, my god, I’m so hungry,” Carly complains, looking over at the counter the waitress disappeared behind. “We should have ordered food to go with the milkshakes. Do you think it’s too late to add on? I kinda want mozzarella sticks.” Barely taking a breath, her eyes widen and she nudged Laurel. “Hey, should we give Vince the present we bought him when we get home, or should we wait until tomorrow to brighten his day?”
“How are you hungry? You just ate almost an entire tub of popcorn,” I remind her.
Now she gives me one of her cute little sultry smiles. “What can I say? I’m insatiable.”
I shake my head at her. “Don’t tease me; I’ve had enough of your shenanigans today.”
“I think we should wait on the present,” Laurel decides. “If he’s had enough of your shenanigans already, the present isn’t going to help.”
“Is this a torture present?” I ask.
Carly shakes her head, innocent as a lamb. “Of course not. It’s a wonderful present. It’s an invitation to take part in one of our beloved family traditions—and it has inside joke value. It’s the perfect present. A super present, if you will.”
“You didn’t get me the whole series of Smallville or something, did you? I don’t want that in my apartment. What if someone sees?”
Grinning, Carly grabs her water and takes a sip, meeting my gaze as those perfect lips of hers close around the straw. I would think I’m just being a perv, letting my mind wander to other things I’d like to see her put her lips around, but then her foot slides up my leg and her blue eyes gleam with mischief.
I narrow my eyes, reaching under the table and blocking my crotch. “Hey, if I have to be nice to you, you have to be nice to me. No torture in public.”
Carly rolls her eyes. “I’m always nice to you.”
My eyebrows rise, memories of her hand on my cock earlier as she threatened to fuck someone else if I failed to live up to her boyfriend expectations—when I didn’t even fucking agree to be her boyfriend to begin with. “Bullshit. Tell that to Mr. Ink Muscles.”
“I don’t plan to see Mr. Ink Muscles, so I won’t be telling him anything,” she says, her eyebrows rising in a haughty way, as if she has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Um, who is Mr. Ink Muscles?” Laurel asks, tentatively. “He’s not going to come around, right?”
“Mr. Ink Muscles will not be coming around, no,” Carly verifies.
Appearing relieved, Laurel nods her head. “Good. I was about to cut and run.”
That doesn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense. “What, are you afraid of tattoos?”
“Hot guys,” she offers back, nodding, like this is a scientifically proven fact. “I’m allergic to them. They shut my brain off. I go from reasonable, functioning human being to awestruck puddle of goo-eyes as soon as one pops up. It’s humiliating.”
I smirk, folding up the discarded straw wrapper on the table. “Should I be insulted? Am I not adequately hot enough to make you awestruck?”
“Oh, no, you’re super hot,” she says, waving me off. “But you belong to my sister, so you may as well be gay. I would never look at you like that. No offense.”
“None taken. That’s refreshing. Familial loyalty… I like it.” I flick a glance at Carly. “Did not know you owned me, though. That’s news.”
Carly presses her lips together and offers a solemn nod. “I was waiting to tell you until after all the paperwork cleared, but yeah. You’re my property now. I’m thinking of b
randing you, like cattle. Just in case any other bitches get the idea you’re a pre-owned model.”
Laurel nods, going along with her sister’s spiel. “Gotta set the bitches straight.”
Carly flashes a dope, sideways peace sign and tries to sneer. “Word, yo.”
I shake my head. “I never knew you were this nerdy. I don’t understand how you hid this from me.”
Carly shrugs. “Less sex kitten, more nerd when Laurel’s around. Don’t worry; I’ll bring the sex kitten back out later.”
“Speaking of, how loud are you guys? Because the walls at your apartment are really thin, and if I have to lie in bed listening to you two go at it all night long, breakfast is going to be somewhat awkward.”
Carly and I exchange a look—hers more amused, mine more sardonic. Before we’re forced to answer, the waitress arrives with a tray full of milkshakes and apparently nothing else matters beyond their milkshakes.
Chapter Thirteen
Vince
Carly’s light fingers skate across my chest, around the shape of my shoulder, and continue down my arm until she gets to my hand. Once she gets there, she twines our fingers together and settles her face on my chest, snuggling up close to me as I lie here on her bed, completely relaxed.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
We’ve just been lying here in the quiet for several peaceful minutes. Carly has filled the silence with tender touches. She’s naturally affectionate. I don’t hate it.
What I do hate is what I’m currently thinking about. “I’m thinking that tonight is the first time in recent history I’ve come home to my apartment and it didn’t even cross my mind to check the house.”
“Check the house for what?”
“For a man who shouldn’t be there. Someone waiting for me in the shadows.”
Carly’s expression dims slightly. “Oh. Well, that sounds like a good thing.”
I shake my head, disagreeing. “It’s not a good thing. I had both of you with me. What if he’d been there? I didn’t even check.”
Considering her words carefully, Carly pauses, then says, “I think it’s good to be diligent about safety in a healthy way, but I doubt it’s necessary to literally check your house every single night for no reason. I mean, have you noticed anyone following you around?”
I roll my eyes. “Only you.”
“I meant someone who isn’t cute,” she replies, cheekily. “Someone who might feed you a bullet instead of delicious cookies.”
“Those cookies are delicious,” I tell her. I can’t even argue with that. “But just because I haven’t seen anyone doesn’t mean no one is there. He had me watched before and I don’t know by who. He doesn’t hire people who are shoddy enough to get caught.”
“Well, I’ve already told you how I feel about this. I don’t think he’s looking for you. I think he could’ve already found you. It’s been months.”
“You think I’m being paranoid.”
“No,” she says, carefully. “Not paranoid. Paranoia is unwarranted, perceiving a threat where there is none; your caution is entirely warranted. You did something to provoke a man you know to be dangerous, and that’s… well, it warrants watching over your shoulder. I just think maybe your cousin has given you a pass that he’s not announcing. Maybe because of Mia, like you said before. She didn’t want you to die, so maybe he’s trying to respect her wishes. Maybe he’s hoping you’ll find someone else and move on with your life—and maybe if you do, he’ll let that happen. Then you won’t have to check your closets for the boogeyman every night.”
“I think that’s optimistic. Mateo isn’t nice. He doesn’t care about my happiness.”
“But he cares about Mia’s,” she states. “Maybe he cares about her happiness more than getting back at you. Maybe as long as you’re not a threat, he’ll leave you alone.”
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t even know that. If he finds me—”
“If he hasn’t already found you,” Carly interjects.
I roll my eyes. “You don’t get it. He already had me watched until he thought I moved on. Say you’re right and he found me, say he’s got someone out there watching us right now to see what happens. He won’t say, ‘oh, Vince is in a relationship, now I have nothing to worry about,’ because he already did that once. You’re not the first girl I’ve dated since Mia. I dated and had girlfriends when he let me out before. I still went back for her. It’s a matter of simple fucking logistics at this point. He can’t keep someone on me forever. He can’t literally employ a pro whose only job is watching me for the rest of his life—and that’s what he would have to do, because he already tried trusting me to stay away. He won’t make that mistake again. I am too much trouble to leave alive at this point, and Mateo knows that. It isn’t even all about getting back at me; it’s about eliminating a threat and keeping his family safe. He has to kill me or fall asleep every night wondering if I’m out here plotting a return. The only way he knows Mia’s safe is if he kills the people who threaten her safety. I know him; you don’t. Just believe me on this. He offered peace and I threw it away. His next move is to eliminate me. It’s what he should have done in the first place. He already tried an alternate method for Mia; I fucked that one up.”
“Okay, but this is all predicated on the foundational idea that you’re a threat to Mia. If you’re not anymore, he can leave you alive with little to no risk.”
This girl is not getting it. I shake my head, not wanting to spend the whole damn night talking about this shit. “Let’s just drop it. You don’t understand how Mateo’s mind works. People who haven’t experienced Mateo don’t get it, but trust me, I know him. I grew up with him. I’ve watched how he operates. I worked for him, for fuck’s sake—I know his methods.”
Since our hands are still entwined she gives it a little squeeze, then looks up at me with that sultry little smile of hers. “Okay, okay. I wasn’t trying to rile you up.”
“I am not riled up.”
“You seem a little riled.”
I give her a dry look. “Is this how you drop a topic?”
“Nope, this is how I drop a topic.” She pauses, then in a lighter tone asks, “So, what did you think of Laurel? I think she really likes you.”
“Laurel’s cool,” I say, nodding. “You’re different around her.”
“Bad different?” she inquires.
“No, not bad different. I like all the different sides of you I’ve seen so far.”
“Good,” she says, releasing my hand and trailing her hand across my abdomen. “I like all the sides of you I’ve seen so far, too.”
“Even my crazy side?” I ask, wryly.
“Oh, especially your crazy side. How’d you like my mouthy side?” she asks, smiling up at me curiously.
“I think there are better things to do with your mouth than run it at me.”
Carly laughs, sinking into my side. “Oh yeah? You mean like licking… candy canes? Or wrapping my lips around something stiff and sucking up all the white, creamy… milkshake?”
I grin. “You’re the worst tease I’ve ever met.”
“Psh, I’m the best tease you’ve ever met. I teased your ass into a relationship and you haven’t even fucked me yet.”
I can’t believe she called me out on it, but my eyes widen and I look down at her. “I know, that surprised me, too. I’ve never had a girlfriend I haven’t fucked before. Fucked plenty of girls who weren’t girlfriends, but I think we’re approaching the situation ass-backwards this time.”
“Or maybe we’re doing it right,” she suggests. “Get to know each other, get to like each other, decide to go for it, then consummate. I think that’s actually the traditional order of things.”
“Not in my family,” I tell her, shaking my head. “In my family it’s more like meet one of us, have the bad judgment of being attracted to us in some way, some combination of trauma and forcing you into a relationship, then boom, you’re basically married. Until death do you
part, whether you like it or not.”
Carly smirks. “Sounds super healthy.”
“Says the girl who forced me into a relationship earlier today,” I point out.
Her jaw drops open and she looks impressed with herself. “I did, didn’t I? Do I get to be a Morelli now? Are there T-shirts for joining the club? Bumper stickers? Membership cards?”
“I guess you get the honor of saying you Morelli trapped someone. I guess it’s even more impressive because you’re not exactly intimidating, but you still pulled it off.”
“With a little help from Mr. Ink Muscles.”
I tighten my arm around her waist, tugging her more snugly against my body. “I’m gonna punch this guy in the face if I ever see him.”
She grins, leaning up and brushing her lips against mine. “Mm, he’s got nothing on you. That’s why I didn’t Morelli trap him instead.”
“I don’t think you get to use the term Morelli trap if there are no Morellis involved.”
She climbs on top of me, straddling me. Her hair falls in her face so she gathers it and tosses it up on top of her head, securing it with an elastic band around her wrist. Once that’s all taken care of, she reaches for the hem of my shirt and drags it up my torso. “You’re my favorite Morelli.”
I roll my eyes, lifting my arms so she can drag the shirt off over my head. “I’m the only one you know.”
“So? You’re still my favorite.”
I guess I’ll take it.
“Am I your favorite girlfriend?” she teases.
“You’re my only girlfriend,” I point out.
“Then I’m your favorite. Tell me I’m your favorite. Give me my affirmation, dammit.”
She’s so crazy. I half smile. “Fine, you’re my favorite girlfriend.”
Carly claps her hands. “Yay!” Then she plants her hands on my shoulders and swoops in, kissing the hell out of me. My amusement fades, quickly replaced by arousal as Carly kisses me, fills me up with her cute little sighs, and subtly rolls her hips forward, riding me through my clothes. Fuck, she can turn me on in an instant.
Breaking away, she leans back and draws her own shirt off, tossing it on the floor. Instead of letting her control things, I grab her hips and flip her on her back, taking her by surprise.
