by BJ Harvey
“Thanks for letting me.”
“I’m busy until Thursday, but I’d like to cook you dinner.”
She melts into me. “That would be nice,” she says softly. And there’s that soft spot I knew she was protecting.
“Good,” I murmur, my eyes fixated on her wet, swollen lips and I lean down to brush my mouth against hers. “You better get inside before I try and make another wish come true.” My voice is so low and rough, there’s no mistaking my meaning.
“What might that be?” she asks teasingly.
“That’s definitely an IOU conversation.”
“I might hold you to that.”
I kiss her again, this time soft and slow, pulling back after touching my tongue to hers. I flatten my hands and slide them down her sides to her hips before I straighten and gently pull her off the wall.
There’s no stopping my smirk at the promise of that. ”I hope you do.”
7
Renee
Marco – Hey princess. What are you up to?
Renee – Hey. We’re just at our grandmother’s house for dinner. It’s a Hamilton family tradition to watch trashy TV and eat comfort food on Sunday nights.
Marco – I like that. Let me know when I’m invited.
Renee – Whoa, buddy. Slow down. I’ve still gotta see whether you can bring the goods on this epic first date.
Marco – That kiss should’ve told you everything you needed to know
Renee – It was definitely enlightening . . .
Marco – It was something. I just wanted to see whether the DC contacted you after last night.
Renee – DC?
Marco – Douche canoe
Renee – That’s a perfect name for him! But no. He hasn’t texted Hayls either.
Marco – Damn. So I don’t get to hunt him down and teach him a lesson in manners?”
Renee – Ha ha. I appreciate the thought but that’s one battle I can probably fight on my own.
Marco – I’m sorry. I’m a little protective sometimes.
Renee – I hadn’t noticed . . . but thank you for offering to give the douchebag a much-needed and overdue reality check. Somehow I think he’s past being helped now.
Marco – Then let’s not waste any time talking about old news, and focus on Thursday.
Renee – Let me check my diary . . . I’ve got an enema booked; that’s the highlight of my Thursday.
Marco – WHAT?
Renee – Kidding. That’s not something you’d tell the guy you wanna kiss again and who you want to kiss you again.
Marco – Oh . . . well, this is awkward then.
I gape at my phone, going back through the messages and wondering if I misread something or—
Marco – Jesus, no response. You thought I’d wanna cook you dinner on Thursday if I didn’t want to see you again? Princess, I didn’t think we’d need to work on your confidence. You KNOW you’ve got it going on.
Renee – I have some baggage. What can I say?
Marco – My mission is now to help you process that baggage and take it out with the trash.
Renee – And how do you plan on tackling that?
Marco – By reminding you every time I see you just how into you I am.
Renee – Wanna enlighten me?
Marco – Really fucking into you, princess.
Renee – Now it’s awkward . . .
Marco – I’ll just wear you down with my persistence and sensational cooking skills, and if those fail, I’ll have to pull out the big guns.
Renee – I’ve always said to start with your best weapon.
Marco – I’m saving myself for marriage.
Renee – City Hall is open.
Marco – Wow. That was easy.
Renee – Ha ha. Maybe my sister’s approach to her love life is rubbing off on me.
Marco – Wanna rub it off on me too?
I burst out laughing at that, earning a curious glance from Hayley who’s sitting on the other couch across from me.
Marco – Shit. I didn’t mean literally. I meant figuratively. As in ha ha, I’m not easy either and sometimes I swear it would be easier if I was.
Renee – Life would be easier if you were easier? You should put that on a bumper sticker.
Marco – My godson, Jake, just told me I’m an idiot who doesn’t deserve a decent woman since I can’t even text properly.
Renee – Well, I haven’t blocked you yet, so your skills must be passable. And how old is your godson? ‘Cause he sounds like a genius.
Marco – Fifteen going on forty. His father and I swear he’s smarter than both of us put together.
Renee – You let fifteen-year-old boys read your texts? I’ll make sure I don’t send anything X-rated.
Marco – I don’t usually show him my phone, so you’re safe to send whatever you like…
Renee – LOL. I think I love him. Tell him to look me up in ten years if he’s single.
Marco – Good to know I might have a ten-year life cycle with you.
Renee – Depends on whether you live up to expectations. You might not get past Thursday yet.
Marco – Expect the worst, princess, then I’m guaranteed to knock your socks off.
Renee – I’ll hold you to that.
Marco – If you’re the reward at the end, you’re worth the effort.
I blink quickly to stop the threat of tears from taking hold. What the hell is this man doing to me? I’m a strong, backbone-of-steel badass who takes no shit, yet sweet words make me melt? I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Renee – So Thursday?
Marco – Two options. Your place or mine, but both include me cooking you dinner. Then, if I haven’t given you food poisoning, I thought we could go see the lunar eclipse at the planetarium.
Renee – Damn, Lieutenant. You’re already blowing my last date out of the water.
Marco – In all fairness, that’s not exactly hard.
Renee – True, but I’m looking forward to it regardless. I like the idea of you in my kitchen. Do you do dishes too? Is it a full-service dining experience?
Marco – Define full service? And of course I do the dishes. I want a date, not a maid.
Renee – If I was a swooner, I’d so be swooning right now.
Marco – I’ll have to work harder then. I like the idea of you being weak at the knees and melting into me.
Renee – I was half expecting an “on your knees” joke then, but I remembered that would be a Scotty thing to do.
I snort at my joke, mainly ‘cause it’s true.
Marco – And now Jake and Rhodes are looking at me like I’ve lost my mind ‘cause I’m chuckling at my phone.
My phone chimes again.
Marco – Hey, it’s Jake. I just read Uncle Marco’s last text and I have two words, Renee. YOU’RE WELCOME. P.S. He’s never asked me for advice about women because he’s rarely met any that have left an impression. He can be trained though. He has potential, I promise. So hopefully soon it’ll be ME thanking YOU for making him happy.
Marco – By the way, this message will self-destruct in the ten seconds it takes for him to come from the kitchen with a beer. If he asks, I said nothing.
I leave it at that; there’s no way I’m going to reply and dob Jake in it. He might be a worthwhile ally in the future, depending on whether Marco proves to be just as honest and genuine and trustworthy as he seems to be.
I’m hopeful but not fully sold yet. I’ve never thought a woman with half a brain should go all in from day one—or week two, whatever. As I said to Marco, that comes from my own baggage. Although the weight of it may be heavy, I’m determined not to let the hang-ups from my past dictate my future. That’s why I’m giving this thing with Marco a chance, because I believe in fate, I believe in serendipity, and I believe in chemistry.
And since I was gearing up to jump on and ride that Italian stallion home last night. Chemistry is definitely not a problem for us. Not. At. All.
&n
bsp; “Who has you grinning like a schoolgirl texting her boy crush?” Gram asks, snapping me out of my Marco daze.
“She’s probably texting her new boyfriend,” Hayley says, smirking over at me. Gram’s eyes widen before sparkling with mischief, and I know I’m in for a grilling, ‘Gram style.’
She turns my way in her recliner, the comedy we were watching on her TV all but forgotten now.
“So, tell me about him,” she says, her lips curving up.
“A real man will never break your heart. He should break your headboard, your bed . . .” She leans forward, her sprightly eyes darting between Hayley and me. “Maybe sometimes your special place, but never your heart.” She narrows her gaze my way and points a finger at me. “Is this Marco a good man? One worth your time and womanly charms?”
If anybody else said those two words, I’d bust a gut laughing, but this is Gram’s way. Ever since she took us both in at ten and twelve, she has never been anything but straight to the point and honest. Then, when I moved to Chicago ten years ago, Gram came with me. Together with Hayls, we’re peas in a pod—except Gram has always wanted her own space in case she ever found a man to measure up to our grandpa who passed away just before we moved.
“He’s . . . he’s different,” I say thoughtfully.
Gram lifts a brow. “Explain, sweet child, because different could mean a lot of things, good and bad.”
“The pull between us is intense, and he keeps saving me.”
“You’re not a woman who needs to be saved.”
“No. But he’s always around when I need him to be.”
Her lips form an o, whereas Hayley just grins and nods. “I knew there was something strong there at the club. I could feel it.”
I snort. “Surprised you could feel anything with the number of champagnes you had under your belt.”
My sister’s eyes narrow. “Hey. Ladies’ night means fun night. Am I right, Grams?”
Gram just shakes her head, a little smile playing on her lips. “I do remember having a lot of fun when champagne was involved. Once, Hattie, Kendra, Bette, and I had a girls’ night in and we shared a few bottles, and by the time my sweet George came home, he found us having half-naked piggyback races in the backyard.”
I cover my mouth, but Hayley and I dissolve into a fit of giggles.
“What did Grandpa say?” I ask.
Gram shrugs. “My George knew what he was getting into when he married me. I’m not sure anything we did ever shocked him. He’d just smirk and shake his head, and then make sure I made it up to him later,” she says with a wink.
I groan and Hayley just laughs harder. Gram has always been unashamedly honest with us girls. Her version of the birds and the bees talk was one for the ages and went into graphic detail that left us half-traumatized yet strangely grateful later in life. When it came to our bodies, boys, and sex, there were never any surprises.
“Is he better than the last one?” Grams asks.
“Sooo much better,” Hayley says with an enthusiastic nod. “And hotter.”
I groan and drop my head back against the sofa.
“Renee?” Gram asks. “What’s wrong?”
I turn to meet her eyes. “He’s a firefighter,” I say softly. “And we know how that turned out last time.”
Gram covers my hand with hers. “Is he anything like that ass wipe?”
My lips tip up in a smile. If anyone was to hate my ex more than I do, it’d be Gram.
“So far, so good,” I say with a shrug. “He’s coming over to cook me dinner on Thursday.”
Gram’s head jerks. “He’s cooking for you? Damn, child, lock that man up and hide the key. My George was good at a lot of things—making food was not one of them. And you know what they say about men who can cook . . .”
“What?” I ask curiously.
Her eyes light with mischief. “They’re good with their hands.” When she waggles her eyebrows, I lose it completely, and all three of us laugh.
On the drive home, Marco sends me one last text for the night.
Marco – Sweet dreams, princess. Looking forward to Thursday.
And try as I might, I can’t wipe the smile off my face or pop the small bubble of excitement inside me. Maybe Marco is everything he seems to be: strong, kind, funny, reliable, honest . . . Maybe it’s time for me to stop overthinking things, because if that first kiss was anything to go by, I’d be a fool not to give the man a chance, his profession be damned.
8
Marco
I dish up the chicken parmigiana with steamed broccoli and green beans and, after folding the kitchen towel over my shoulder, I carry them out into Renee’s dining room.
Her eyes come to me as soon as I walk through the door, her gaze warming as I slide the plate in front of her.
“Buon appetito,” I say, nodding to the food.
“Damn. He cooks, he speaks Italian. . . your talent knows no bounds.”
I grin at that. “Don’t get your hopes up. I know maybe ten words and I’m a so-so cook.”
She narrows her gaze and I try to keep a straight face, but my twitching lips mean I fail miserably. She knocks my leg with hers. “You’re so full of shit. This smells amazing.”
“Have to pull out the big guns if I want another date.”
Renee lifts her glass of white wine to her lips, her brow arching. “Already planning another date?”
I reach out and gently lift her free hand to brush my lips against her skin, my eyes locked with hers. “Gotta lock you in early before I lose my shot.”
“You haven’t done anything to minimize your chances so far.”
My grin widens. “Good to know.”
“Except maybe delay me eating this amazing-smelling food.”
I reluctantly release her hand and hold my drink up between us. “To official first dates and gorgeous company.” A blush colors her cheeks as she gently clinks her glass against mine.
“To men who cook and swoop in to save damsels in distress,” she replies.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Something tells me you’re not a person who needs saving often. You’re one of the most headstrong, determined women I’ve met, and I’m related to three half-Italian women who would kick my ass without any hesitation if I ever put a step wrong.”
Her beautiful eyes soften, a wry smile playing on her lips as she lowers her glass and picks up her cutlery.
Instead of doing the same, I watch as she cuts off a small piece of chicken and takes her first bite. Her eyes close and she hums a satisfied moan that has me needing to adjust myself. Everything about this woman intrigues me. In some ways, she wears her emotions on her sleeve; in others, she’s a locked treasure chest I’m aching to crack open.
“How did you learn to cook? Your mother, or for self-preservation as a single man?” she asks.
“A lot of column A, a bit of column B. But I’ve only ever wanted to be a firefighter so that doesn’t work if I don’t look after myself. Can’t pass the annual physical and do the Tough Mudder if I’m eating takeout all the time.”
Her head jerks back. “The Tough Mudder? That’s the dirty obstacle course, right?”
“Dirty obstacle course sounds so filthy coming from your lips,” I say, my eyes drifting down to her mouth.
Renee’s eyes dance with mischief as she quirks a brow. “Everything I want to say is probably not appropriate for a first date.”
I lean forward in my seat. “Say it, just once. Just for me,” I whisper, looking from side to side conspiratorially.
She laughs, her whole face lighting up. “So are you part of a team or . . .?”
“Our whole crew is doing it against another firehouse in six months, and all the money we raise goes to the winner’s chosen charity.”
Her whole face softens. ”Who’s your charity?”
“Big Brothers Big Sisters.”
Renee’s eyes light up and she smiles over at me. “I go to their charity ball every year. I used to volunteer wh
en I was at college.”
I look at her in wonder. “How are you single?”
Her lips tug up on the side. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I’ve already told you.”
“You did?”
My smile broadens. “Yep. I was waiting for my show stopper.”
“Ah yes,” she says, watching me over her glass. “I do remember that.”
“So, you?”
“Waiting for a knight in turnout pants?”
I throw my head back and laugh. ”I know you’re no fire bunny. Your sister said you don’t like firefighters.”
She shrugs but I don’t miss the blink-and-you’d-miss-it fall in her expression before she quickly catches it. I decide to backtrack and get back to safer territory. She’ll tell me in her own time. It’s up to me to show her I’m not the same as her ex—whoever he is and whatever he did. Do I have my suspicions about the kind of man he might’ve been? Sure. But I also know what people say about making assumptions.
“Okay. Tell me about your family. Is your grandmother your only other family in Chicago?” I ask, after a few moments of comfortable silence as we start eating.
“How did you remember that?”
“Remember your grandmother? You said you were at her house the other night when I was with Rhodes and Jake.”
Her lips twitch.
“And I know he texted you when I left the room,” I say with a chuckle. “That boy is the best almost-man I know.”
“I’m thinking he’s got good male role models in his life then.”
“He and Rhodes lost Lily five years ago. I went through the academy with Rhodes so I’ve been around for all of Jake’s life, but when Lils died, the entire firehouse rallied around them. The two of them might as well have the last name Rossi—they would if Mama had her way.”
“That’s amazing. Jake’s already proved to me he’s an impressive young man. And smart. I figured he deleted all evidence of his messages to me.”
“He did. He just made sure to screw with me after doing it so I had no idea what he said but he told me he’d appreciate gratitude when he’s in his twenties.”
