by Piper Rayne
I pull the paint roller away from the wall. “It’s neutral. Neutral sells.”
“How about red? Red hot just like you babe.”
“Spare us, please,” Luca groans walking into the house with a sub in his hand.
“You don’t see enough heart attacks that you decide to witness your own after eating all that processed meat?” I bring the roller back to the wall, running the cool gray color on the surface.
“Yeah, Ma’s not gonna like you. This is the Italian.” He holds up his sub. “You keep lecturing people about deli meat and you’ll drive them out of business. Then Mauro will be on the black list. Actually.” He pauses to think. “Go ahead and put up a sign in the front window saying how bad deli meat is for your health.”
Mauro comes back into the room, pushing him with his shoulder and then wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting my feet from the ground. I let the roller drop in the paint tray and his lips find mine as they often do these days.
“Get a room.” Luca disappears and Mauro quickly carries me to the half of bath that’s yet to be finished.
He cradles me in the corner where the sink and cabinet will go, his hands making quick work of my overalls, letting them fall to my waist.
“Hold up cowboy, we’ve got a house full of people,” I say with a smile.
This isn’t to say we haven’t already made quick work of most of the rooms in this house. The dining room table has been our favorite spot this week.
“So what? Like none of them have sex.” His lips are exploring my neck, his hands halfway up my chest, prepped and ready to cup me.
“Ew! Come on guys,” Cristian says as he walks in the room with his uniform on.
If Mauro had closed the door, there’s a good chance he would have had this way with me. You snooze, you lose.
Mauro glances behind him quickly and his hands might fall to my hips, but his lips are still traveling over my neck. “Aren’t you out of district?”
“I just got off, but if this is why you need my help tonight, then I’m out. If you’d keep your hands off each other, the house would probably be done by now.”
Mauro stops and puts me all back together, fastening my overalls back in place and kissing me on the forehead. “We’ll continue this later.”
Leading me out first, I go back to painting the wall. “Hi, Cristian. Thanks for helping.”
“Yeah, yeah. You owe me. Your friend is still giving me the cold shoulder and her dad keeps asking when I’m going to make good on our date. I’d lie, but I think he’s having me tailed.” Cristian sits on the dining room table.
Mauro and I share a look that has me biting my lip remembering how he took me from behind last night right where Cristian is sitting.
“Jesus.” Cristian hops off the table. “Is there anywhere I can sit in here?”
Mauro and I laugh uncontrollably. “Not really.” Mauro shrugs like it’s no big deal, while my face heats with embarrassment.
“I have to hear you screaming my brother’s name like he’s God all fucking night and now you drag me to a place where I have to imagine the two of you fucking in every corner?”
“Tell me about it. He grabs her ass every time he passes her.” Luca joins the party, crumpling up the sub wrapper in his hands. “It’s disgusting. These innocent eyes cannot unsee what these two do.”
We all laugh because Luca’s eyes have probably seen more than all of us combined.
“Come to the backyard. I need your help with this fountain.” Mauro winks at me. “Be right back.”
I place the roller down in the tray, not willing to let them handle this huge-ass fountain alone. It could very well land on all three of them. I linger by the window looking from afar to make it seem like I think they’re macho, but I’m ready to lend a hand at any second.
They each evaluate the situation and offer their take on how to move it. Cristian even looks like he’s doing a little diagram with his hands, directing the other two. Luca and Mauro squint their eyes and lift the edge, quickly putting it down. I told Mauro we should hire a service but he swears him and his brothers can handle this.
The statue isn’t even lifted off the base yet and they’re arguing.
“You bringing Maddie to dinner on Sunday?” Cristian asks, pretending to see what’s under the fountain.
They’re all delaying the inevitable.
“Yeah.”
“Big step.” Luca chimes in.
He’s right, it is. And though I’m looking forward to it, I am a bit nervous still.
“Ma’s already met her. I had her at the sandwich shop, she loved her, told me she saw our future together. I’m not shaking in my boots.” Mauro’s confidence shines through and I can only hope he’s right.
“What about the firehouse? You take her there yet?” Luca asks.
Mauro’s already shaking his head. “Not yet.” The sureness of his tone evaporates like sun beating down on a puddle.
“She knows you’re a firefighter, what could you possibly be afraid of?” Cristian asks.
I hate that I’m eavesdropping. Especially since I’ve shifted so that I’m not right in front of the window anymore, proving how badly I still feel like I need reassurance that he likes me.
“Let’s just move this fucking monstrosity, okay? You’re always jabbering on like a bunch of chicks.” If I wasn’t supposed to hear their conversation, I’d scold him for his depiction of women. Besides, I know what he’s afraid of and they don’t.
I give it to the three of them, they somehow get the fountain moved to the outside of the yard where the service is supposed to pick it up tomorrow.
The three of them walk toward the house and I run back to my roller, trying to lather on some layers.
“Let’s order pizza,” Luca says, finding his spot on the table, watching me paint.
The rest of the crew is packing up for the day and we all wave and say goodbye.
“You just ate,” I say, not turning around.
“I’m a growing boy, Maddie.”
“I can’t eat all that cheese, it’ll upset my stomach. I’ll get a salad,” Cristian says.
“Pussy,” Mauro coughs out.
Cristian comes up to my side and grabs the edger, stepping up on the ladder and helping out. He’s changed out of his uniform now and is in a tapered pair of athletic pants and a t-shirt that says Cop-A-Feel and an arrow pointing down. For some reason, he’s still wearing his belt with his gun on it.
“There’s something about a police officer out of uniform with his gun still on his belt painting a wall. Where’s a camera when you need it?” Luca pretends to snap a picture.
“I’m not going to lay this thing down just anywhere. Besides, it’s better than the two of you idiots watching her work.”
Mauro comes up behind me, his hand covering mine on the roller handle, moving it up and down the wall as he grinds against me. “Here, I’ll help.”
I slide my ass out, effectively moving him away. “That’s not helping.”
He laughs, pulling his phone out. “Gino’s or Lou’s?”
“Gino’s,” we all agree.
“Damn, we’re all Gino’s?” Luca asks, disbelief in his tone.
“I told you, she’s already like a Bianco,” Mauro says and I try not to let my heart leap out my chest, purposely ignoring his comment.
Madison Bianco.
I already knew when I was sixteen years old writing it on my binders that it had a nice ring to it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mauro
This is a first for me. I’ve never brought a girl to my parents’ for Sunday dinner. Not even Jenna. Ma never really cared for Jenna. Women’s intuition I think.
Opening the door to my parents’ place, the aromas that still make my mouth water hit me full force. I still feel the anticipation of sitting down for a meal that will stuff me full for days. Okay, I’ll eat the leftovers she sends us home with later tonight.
Madison’s hand is clammy
in my own. I squeeze it to tell her not to worry, but her teeth are still nibbling at her bottom lip like they did most of the drive over here.
I purposely got here before Luca and Cristian. It’s a rarity that we’ll all be present for the dinner—usually one or two of us are on shift.
My dad comes out of the kitchen, his apron already stained red but sadly not enough to cover up the writing on it.
Madison giggles but tries to hide her response when she sees the words, If you like my meatballs you should taste my sausage. I’m not sure my mom understands the humor in the English language sometimes.
“Madison, the smarty pants. Welcome.” He extends his arms, gripping her by the shoulders and pressing a kiss on each cheek. “Mauro.” He ruffles my hair and kisses me on each cheek as well. “Come. Come.” He disappears through the archway of the kitchen, where I know Mama will be found.
Our house is small, a typical Chicago bungalow with three bedrooms. Each room smaller than the next. My bedroom moved to the basement as soon as I could escape Cristian at fourteen.
I’m eager to give her the tour, wanting more alone time with her even though we just got here.
In the kitchen, my mom is breading and frying chicken breasts while gravy simmers on the stove. She has all the salad preparations for Cristian on the small butcher block.
“Ma,” I say, coming up behind her and pressing my lips to her cheek. She pats my hand on her shoulder. The one she’s not currently using to hold the chicken.
“Mauro,” she says my name like she usually does, with love pouring out of every syllable, like I’ve done something to make her proud just by saying hello.
“Madison is here,” I whisper and she must’ve momentarily forgotten because she seems a little alarmed.
“Oh.” She whips around, chicken dripping down to the floor. “Hi. Hold on.” She hems and haws on what to do so I take the chicken from her hands and place it on the plate.
Rushing to the sink, she thoroughly washes her hands for thirty-seconds—as always—singing the happy birthday song in Italian. Madison probably already thinks we’re a bunch of nut cases.
“Hi Madison, right?” she asks before greeting her much the way my father did except she pulls her into her arms catching Madison by surprise.
“Maddie is fine. Thank you for having me.”
“I’m so happy you came. You’re welcome anytime.” Her eyes find mine across the room and she smiles her proudest grin, the one that says I did good, like when I joined the Chicago Fire Department.
I wash my hands at the sink, drying them on a towel.
“Can I help?” Madison asks like the good guest I knew she’d be.
“No. You go sit and enjoy yourself with Mauro.” She shoos us out of the kitchen as usual. It’s her domain.
We leave my parents much to Maddie’s argument about helping and earning her meal.
“Come on, I’ll show you where I slept in high school. Your fantasy come to life.”
She swats me in the stomach and I corner her before the basement stairs, caging her into the wall like I love to do. “Tell me no part of you wants to know where I slept in high school. Did you ever imagine it for yourself?”
Her cheeks redden. “Keep it up and you’ll be using your hand like you did in high school instead of my mouth,” she whispers in my ear.
My head falls back in laughter. “This is me backing off.” I hold up my hands in the air and nod to the basement stairs.
She follows behind me down to the wood-paneled basement. The smell down here is the same as I remember it and it makes me a little nostalgic for a time when this house was crawling with so much testosterone I thought it’d bust the walls down.
My parents haven’t changed the space at all. My bed still sits in the corner, a small table next to it with an alarm clock. The guitar I pretended to play to impress girls in the corner. The chair I played my video games in sitting front and center of the television.
I drop down to the bed. “This is where it all went down. Lube, my hand and a lot of dirty magazines lost their lives here.”
She sits down in the chair, watching me like I’m a different person than the one she walked in with.
“Come.” I pat the spot next to me. “I promise I don’t bite.”
She laughs, standing and coming over to my side. “I kind of like it when you do.”
Rolling her over, I kiss her lips, nibbling at her bottom lip. “You know I aim to please.” I gently bite all over her neck and jaw.
She swats me away. “We are not doing this in your parents’ house.”
I slide my hands up her sweater, finding a camisole that’s fitted to her body. “Double wrapped? Not cool. I’m supposed to have easy access all the time.” I let my thumbs trace over her breasts, finding two peaked nipples hungrily looking for attention. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
“Maybe you should reserve judgment until you’ve investigated the situation.” She eyes me, smiling over the fact she’s not wearing a bra under her camisole.
Great. Now I’m hard.
“You going commando on me, too?” I fiddle with the button and zipper of her jeans.
“You’ll have to wait to find that out.” Her hand lands on mine, stopping me.
“You expect me to go all day without knowing?”
She slides out from under me. “This is my first time in your parents’ house. I’m not about to let you get to third base.” As she stands at the side of my bed, footsteps start to sound from overhead. Seconds later they’re joined by loud Italians talking.
Madison winks and unbuttons her jeans and pries the edges open. A simple pair of red panties greet me that say, Hose Connection Here with an arrow pointing down.
“Come.” I wave her over, sitting on the edge of my bed now, adjusting my hard-on.
Surprisingly she obliges and stands in front of me as I pull down her jeans a little bit.
“I love them.” I press my lips right below her belly button.
She doesn’t fight me, so I take the opportunity to slide my finger under the crotch of her panties, feeling how wet she already is.
“Hey.” She backs up, zipping up her jeans, my obsession quickly covered up.
“What did I do to you that you’re punishing me so?” I haul her onto my lap and she winds her arms around my neck.
“Gotta keep you on your toes.” She kisses my cheek and the scent of her perfume overwhelms me in the best way possible.
I will never get enough of this, of us.
Small feet scurry down the stairs and she bolts up off my lap.
“Uncle Mauro! Uncle Mauro!” Devin runs across the room right into my arms.
I’m surprised to see him, but I hug him back. “What’s up Little Man? I didn’t know you were coming today.” I ruffle his blonde locks and hold my hand up for a high five. “This is Madison, my girlfriend.”
He stares her down and turns back to me without saying hello.
Another set of footsteps come down the stairs, a voice calling for Devin and my entire body tenses.
Cailin turns the corner and her head rears back in shock for a second.
I know things are about to get complicated when I hear Madison’s sigh.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Madison
“Hey, Cailin.” Mauro stands, holding her son, Devin, in his arms.
“Hi. We were at the sandwich shop and your mom invited me to dinner. I hope it’s okay that we came.”
Mauro glances at me, letting Devin slide down to the floor. He runs to his mother as Mauro settles at my side. “You remember Madison?”
Cailin’s eyes set on Mauro’s hand on my hip and then raises to meet my eyes. “I do. Nice to see you.”
“You as well.” I slide an inch closer to Mauro.
Jealousy? Maybe.
As if the uncomfortable static suffocating the room wasn’t enough, two more footsteps sound on the stairs and Luca stops at the bottom, a piece of bread in his hand.
His gaze investigates the scene, his eyes shifting in each of our directions.
“What’s up guys?” He steps farther into the room, leaning toward Cailin and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Ma said you were coming today. How are you doing?”
Cailin kisses his cheek back and the sad expression that crosses her face has me feeling bad for feeling possessive over Mauro. She’s grieving and here I am thinking she wants to steal my boyfriend. She just needs support from someone who understands what she’s going through.
“What’s up, Maddie?” Luca greets me with the same kiss on the cheek. “Mauro.” He nods.
“Hey.” Devin tugs on Luca’s Bears jersey.
Luca pretends to circle around completely missing Devin. Cailin smiles watching the scene unfold as Devin runs to the other side of Luca, but he turns around the other direction.
“Here!” Devin yells, his hands reaching up in the air.
Luca finally glances down with a surprised look on his face. “Oh. I didn’t see you down there.” He picks him up and flies him around the room like he’s an airplane, complete with zooming noises.
Devin laughs uncontrollably, drool falling from his mouth. “Let’s go steal a meatball,” Luca whispers and the two fly upstairs.
Leaving the tension to suffocate us again.
“I’m going to go insist that your mom let me help in the kitchen.” I kiss Mauro on the cheek, his hand firm on my hip in a gesture that tells me he doesn’t want me to leave. But I can’t handle this tension and if Mauro can trust me after what Jenna did to him, I can surely trust him.
“She never lets anyone help her,” Cailin comments as I pass her by to reach the stairs. “I’ve tried and she always pushes me out of the kitchen.”
I didn’t really need her opinion. I mean, I’m doing this to be nice so she can have some alone time with Mauro. I’d much rather be here in the basement making out with my boyfriend than cutting up lettuce.
“I’ll give it a shot. I think she’s just used to having boys around. Maybe with a woman coming around now, she’ll appreciate the help.”
