“Oh for Christ’s sake, the man wants you to call him by his first name,” Amber says, causing Jimmy to raise an eyebrow. “You can call her, Melissa,” she says before turning to Gabriella. “You, kid, stick with the Moscato thing. She needs her job.”
I love my sister—truly, I love her.
Just not today.
Chapter 5
Burn Me
Jimmy Casale
Aside from the call about a gas odor, it was a slow night at the firehouse which meant we had a lot of time on our hands. My partner, Frankie, was bored and in the mood to bust balls. Lucky for me and the rest of the guys, a new probie was assigned to our ladder a day ago and most of the night was spent breaking the poor bastard in.
“You cooking tonight?” Frankie questions, tossing a football over my head. Colt catches it and tosses it back, almost clipping the back of my head.
“He’s talking to you, Casale,” Colt says.
“Yeah, that shrimp dish you made last week is calling my name,” Frankie asserts.
“The one with the zucchini noodles,” Colt agrees.
“You fucks are spoiled,” I mutter jokingly as I make my way toward the freezer. I’m not complaining. I enjoy feeding the guys. The kitchen is my throne around here and when I’m on duty everyone eats like a king.
Tony and the probie, Pete enter the kitchen as I sift through the freezer for shrimp.
“Casale is cooking,” Frankie announces.
Slamming the freezer shut, I rise to my full height and meet their gazes.
“Not without a trip to the supermarket. Nothing in here but a loin of pork,” I add tapping my hand against the stainless steel door.
“You can cook?” Pete asks, lifting a shocked eyebrow.
“Watch and learn, kid,” I tell him before turning to Frankie. “You’re driving, go grab the keys to the truck while I call Gab to make sure she got to night school.”
“How’s that going?”
Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I think about the loaded question for a moment. So much has gone on since that first meeting at the high school.
“How’s it living with a teenage girl or how is she doing with school?”
“I meant the school thing. I’m no fool, I imagine it’s some kind of hell living with a teenager of any kind,” Frankie answers.
“As a guy who has five sisters, I can attest it is one hundred percent torture living with a teenage girl,” Tony interjects, patting me on the back. “That is why I am never reproducing. My luck they’ll all be girls and I’ll have to relive those years,” he says, shuddering at the thought. “God, the thought alone gives me the creeps.”
“It’s not that bad,” I counter.
So what if she takes an hour in the shower. It doesn’t matter that I can barely find the counter in the bathroom anymore or that I almost washed my hair with a bottle of Nair. I’ve gotten used to smelling like a fruit salad too. Her room looks like a bomb went off inside and there are clothes everywhere but, she takes the garbage out every other Tuesday and since she returned to school, she’s really been trying.
That first day back, she met with Melissa just as she promised. Together they went over her credits and adjusted her schedule, adding two more classes. Melissa also helped get her enrolled in night classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. On Saturday’s she volunteers at a nursing home for extra credits too.
With a full plate, she hasn’t seen her mother and I’m not pushing the issue either. Gabby doesn’t need any distractions. Lisa knows how to get in touch with our daughter. If she’s going to make it right, it’s going to be on her own merit with no interference from me.
Lifting the phone to my ear, I listen as it rings three times before Gab picks up.
“Hey, Dad, I’m walking into class,” she says in one breath.
“Alright, I was just checking to make sure you got there safely.”
“Yeah and don’t worry about me getting home, Sienna said she’ll drive me.”
“Sounds good,” I say, following the guys toward the truck. “Call me when you get in the house.”
“Okay. Oh and don’t forget to sign the progress report Ms. Moscato sent home. I have to bring it to her tomorrow.”
At the mention of Melissa, I flash back to the night we saw her at Jose Tejas. One glance and I couldn’t stop myself from staring. I wasn’t even inconspicuous about it and when Gabby caught me ogling her teacher, she started giving me the four-one-one on her. It wasn’t much but, I know she’s not married, she’s got a kid and lives next door to Gab’s best friend. After I paid the check, Gabby insisted we go say hello and despite my protests, I followed her like a dope. That’s when I overheard her talking about me. Well—it was more like I heard her shout my name.
Jimmy. His name is fucking Jimmy.
I liked the way it sounded coming from her mouth and that night I thought of all the ways I could make her scream fucking Jimmy again.
Too bad that was the last time I saw her or heard her sweet voice. It’s been nearly a month later and I still can’t get her off my mind. I wasn’t kidding about her having a face you don’t forget and I quickly learned there is nothing about Melissa Moscato you forget.
Not her face or her voice and certainly not her body. That body—goddamn.
“Dad!”
Shit.
“Sign the progress report, got it,” I respond. Clearing my throat, I climb into the truck beside Frankie.
“The teacher is ready to start. I’ll call you when I get home,” she says quickly not giving me a chance to say goodbye before she disconnects the call.
Ten minutes later Frankie pulls up to the supermarket and parks in the fire lane. We all jump out and I grab a cart.
“Hey, Probie,” Frankie calls, throwing an arm around Pete. “Do me a solid, will you? Head on over to the pharmacy department and ask him what’s good for hemorrhoids these days.”
“Dude, come on,” Pete groans.
“And don’t come back with some bullshit Preparation H either,” Frankie adds, giving him a pat on the back. Pete takes off for the pharmacy and the rest of us split up. Frankie heads to the seafood department for the fish, Colt starts for the canned tomatoes and Tony takes off in search for a loaf of semolina. As for me, I head to the produce aisle for the zucchini noodles and the rest of the ingredients.
I’m just about finished grabbing everything I need when I spot Melissa standing in front of a mountain of eggplants with a perplexed look on her face. Taking her in, I lean against the wagon and watch as she lifts one and then another before frowning and putting them both back.
“The lighter they are the fewer seeds they have,” I say, pushing off the cart. Startled she lifts her eyes to mine and I make my way toward her. Her tongue sneaks out and runs across her plump lips and like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn to her.
“Mr. Casale,” she stammers, running her fingers nervously through her long hair. Cocking my head to the side, I narrow my eyes and playfully smirk at her.
“I thought we moved past the formalities,” I say, stepping in front of her. While reaching for an eggplant, my arm brushes against hers and I hear her inhale a sharp breath. Like the night at the restaurant, she is clearly nervous around me and I can’t help but wonder why. Maybe the scene Lisa and I made in her office is the reason she’s uncomfortable or the fact every time I see her I blatantly stare at her. Whatever it is, I want to change it.
“You should call me Jimmy,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she murmurs. Raising an eyebrow, she watches as I study the eggplants trying to select the best one. “Why is that?” she asks.
“Well, for starters I’ve decided I’m going to call you Melissa from now on,” I pause, taking a moment to smile back at her. “Sisters orders and all that,” I add before glancing back at the eggplants and picking one from the pile. It doesn’t appear bruised and as I drop it from one hand to another, I decide it’s light enough not to be loaded with seeds.
“I s
hould probably apologize for her,” she mutters.
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “She’s great,” I add, bringing us face to face.
“She’s a pain in the ass but, she means well,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A beat of silence stretches between us and we both just stand there staring at one another trying to decide what to say next. In fascination I watch as a shy smile spreads across her pretty mouth and the urge to touch her lips rolls through me.
Diverting her eyes to my hands, she tips her chin to the eggplant.
“They all feel the same to me,” she admits as I take her wrist, turn her palm over and drop the eggplant into her hand.
“Feel that one,” I insist, watching her fingers tighten around it.
“It’s nice and hard,” she murmurs. Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she slaps her free hand to her forehead. “That sounded ridiculous,” she groans, causing me to grin.
“You don’t want a soft eggplant,” I tease.
“No, I suppose that wouldn’t be good,” she replies, dropping her hand from her face. “I’m not usually this socially awkward,” she blurts, releasing a frustrated sigh. “Thanks for helping,” she adds, raising the eggplant with a sigh before tossing it into her basket.
“It’s the least I can do,” I tell her, not ready to end the conversation. “Thank you for helping Gabby get on the right track.”
“Like I told Mrs. Liconti, Gabriella is a smart girl,” she says, lifting her gaze to me. “I’m happy to help.”
Hearing her mention Lisa’s name forces the smile to disappear from my face.
“You spoke to Lisa?”
“Yes, she called my office to see how Gabriella was doing,” she pauses, cocking her head to the side. “Judging by our conversation, I take it she hasn’t had much involvement?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “Neither of us have spoken with her,” I add, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s good to know she called the school and showed some kind of interest.”
“I guess there is still tension,” she comments.
“What gave it away?” I ask dryly.
“Divorce is tough.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agree, drawing in a deep breath. “What about you?”
“What about me?” The moment the question leaves her lips she looks away.
“You married?” I press, already knowing the answer but desperate to keep her talking.
“No,” she whispers, lifting her eyes back to mine. “I was never married.”
There’s nothing wrong with not getting married. Knowing what I know now, I personally don’t know if I would do it again. I can’t say I regret it because of the girls but, I’m not sure I would take the plunge another time. However, there is a sadness to Melissa when she shares her marital status, one filled with regret. A sadness that speaks of broken promises and loss. I’m about to try to make light of it when I hear Frankie call out to me.
“We’re ready to roll out of here, Casale.”
Melissa looks over my shoulder and the sadness that filled her eyes a moment ago fades as she smiles at Frankie. Of course the hound takes it as an invitation to join us. Glaring at him, I watch his eyes travel the length of Melissa. A hum of approval escapes him as he keeps his eyes on her.
“Looks like the produce department is where it’s at,” he says with a grin. “I’m Frankie and you are?”
“Melissa,” she replies, taking the hand, he offers.
“What’s a gorgeous girl like yourself doing talking to this guy?”
“Well,” she starts.
“Frankie,” I warn.
“He picked me out an eggplant,” she blurts, causing Frankie to chuckle.
“An eggplant, huh?”
“Here, take this shit and go to the checkout counter,” I order, pushing the cart in front of him.
“Looks like you’re trying to get rid of me, Casale,” Frankie taunts.
“I am,” I agree, clenching my jaw.
“Such a temperamental bitch,” he teases, turning back to Melissa. “He gets like that when he’s hungry.”
“I bet,” she murmurs. Meeting my gaze, her eyes shine as she bites the inside of her cheek and fights a smile.
“How about you give me your number and we’ll continue this conversation without the hungry beast growling between us.”
“No,” I grind out. Keeping my eyes pinned to hers, I watch Melissa raise an eyebrow.
“No?” she asks.
“Why not? I’m good for dinner and a movie too,” Frankie argues.
The son of a bitch is playing me.
“She’s got plans,” I grunt.
“I do?”
“Yeah, you do,” I tell her. “You got plans with me.”
“Right,” she says, covering her smile with a hand. “I forgot about that,” she continues, playing along. “I’m sorry Frankie it must’ve slipped my mind. We already have plans to… what were they again?”
“Tomorrow night I’m taking you to dinner. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“There you go,” she says, turning her attention to Frankie. “We’re going to dinner tomorrow night.” Her eyes move back to me. “Refresh my memory, did I tell you where I live?”
Grinning, I shake my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Frankie take a step backward. His head turns from side to side, trying to keep up with the banter between me and Melissa.
“You were just about to give me your address and your phone number,” I tell her.
“Then I should do that.”
“You should,” I agree, pulling out my phone. She chews her lip nervously before finding the courage to take the phone from my hands. As she types her number into the keyboard, I glance over at Frankie who is smirking at me.
A second later she pulls her ringing phone out of her purse and hands me back mine. I end the call and store her number as she turns to Frankie.
“Sorry Frankie, looks like you’re a day late and a dollar short,” she teases, diverting her attention back to me.
“Well, if I had to lose you to someone I’m glad it’s this guy,” Frankie tells her before looking back at me. “I’ll meet you at checkout,” he adds, grabbing the cart from me. Once he’s out of sight and we’re alone, Melissa lifts her chin.
“Thanks for the save,” she murmurs.
“It wasn’t a save,” I reply. Crossing one arm over the other I scratch the scruff lining my jaw as I study her, watching her eyes widen. “I’m going to need your address.”
“Jimmy—”
“I know you’re not married,” I start, cutting her off. “So unless you’re in a relationship of some kind, I’d really like to take you to dinner tomorrow,” I tell her, dropping my hand from my face.
“It’s complicated,” she says softly.
“It’s just dinner,” I press, stepping toward her and closing the distance between us. “I promise to be a gentleman,” I add. Giving in, I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. As my hand falls my fingers softly graze her cheek and a soft whimper escapes her lips.
“Where’s the fun in that,” she whispers as she stares back at me.
Fire.
It’s there in those pretty brown eyes.
Vibrant and beautiful as it dances back to life.
It’s the first fire I don’t want to put out.
The first fire I want to watch spread into a raging inferno.
And for the very first time, I want those dancing flames to burn me.
Chapter 6
Vanilla Extract
Melissa Moscato
I’ve lost my mind.
Any minute now the men with the white coats are going to knock on my door and whisk me away to the padded cell that awaits me. I mean there is no other excuse as to why I agreed to have dinner with Jimmy. The temporary bout of insanity also explains why I have been texting him since I gave him my phone number and why I haven’t canceled yet. It’s the very reason I asked my sister
to watch Christopher and also why I’m currently staring at every piece of clothing I own.
Grabbing a pair of leggings and an off the shoulder tunic from the mountain of clothes on top of my bed, I make my way to my dresser and begin to filter through my underwear drawer. Trying to find a bra to match my panties becomes a chore and I wonder when I stopped buying sets. Not that it matters—Jimmy Casale most definitely will not be seeing my underwear. Still, there used to be a time when I took pride in what I wore underneath my clothes. When sexy underwear gave me a certain confidence about myself.
Shrugging the robe off my shoulders, I start to dress. Once I’m fully clothed, I slide my feet into a pair of stilettos I’m sure are six years old and stand in front of the mirror assessing myself.
“This is ridiculous,” I mumble, glancing through the mirror at the disarray of clothes scattered all over the bed. I’m about to grab the dress I tried on an hour ago when I hear my sister whistle.
“How did you get in here?” I question, placing my hands on my hips.
“The front door,” she replies, walking further into my bedroom. “Wait until the fireman sees you.”
“I was just about to change,” I tell her, turning back to give myself another look. “Should I wear a dress? I feel like I should wear a dress. I wore one on my first date with Chris,” I ramble on.
“You’re going on a date not the fucking prom,” she says, stepping behind me. “You look great. Not too casual, not too dressy and sexy as fuck.”
“Do we have to call it that?”
“A date? Yes, that’s what you usually call it when a man and woman go out to dinner. Especially if they’re attracted to one another and there is a chance of getting it in.”
“I never said I was attracted to him,” I mutter, watching as she rolls her eyes.
“Why did I know you were going to freak out?” she asks as she spins around and digs into her purse. Pulling out a little bottle she turns back to me and unscrews the cap before offering it to me.
“What is this?”
Burn Me Anthology Page 9
