by Cecy Robson
“Yeah,” I say. “Just you and me.”
I haven’t missed the way she’s avoided seeing her family and I’ve overheard enough calls from Valentina, Mamacita Mendes, and all her aunts to see why she avoids talking to them as much as she does. They either think they deserve to treat her that badly, or they’re not smart enough to know what it does to her. Allie didn’t become the designated spinster on her own. She didn’t turn complicit overnight. Nope. That crap has been a lifetime in the making.
I slam on the brakes when the car in front of me stops short. More instinct, than anything, my hand whips out to cup her shoulder. At least I think it’s her shoulder, until I give a squeeze and realize it’s too bouncy and perky to be bone.
My gaze shifts in her direction. “Ah, sorry?”
She glances down to where I’m cupping her breast. Not to brag, but I don’t think I could’ve aimed better if I’d planned. I’m so impressed by my move, and how perfectly her breast conforms to my palm, it takes me a moment to realize I’m still trying to protect her from going through the windshield.
Seatbelts be damned. I just saved her life.
I think I could’ve been a lot smoother about removing my hand. Maybe give her a little wink and thank her for the opportunity. Instead I yank my hand back like I had it on the stove and she cranked up the heat.
It’s not an awkward movement. It’s all about me respecting Allie. I would never purposely cop a feel unless she begged me for it.
Okay, maybe she doesn’t have to beg.
We’re staring at each other now. Her, dumbfounded beyond belief, and me, thinking maybe I should have moved my hand away quicker. It takes the douche in the Mercedes behind me blasting on his horn to realize traffic has resumed full speed ahead.
“I was trying to keep you safe,” I explain a little too late. “You could have flown through the glass and landed on the street bleeding with your organs hanging out and shit.”
It’s probably impossible to sound lamer than I feel. But I have mad skills and manage just fine.
“I’m wearing my seatbelt,” she reminds me.
“Seatbelts don’t always work,” I say, like I’m some kind of expert. “The locking mechanism fails if not properly engaged.” I’m tempted to make up a percentage of faulty seatbelt related deaths, but I think I sound enough like a dumbass.
Allie adjusts herself in her seat and fiddles with the strap. She’s probably thinking the jaws of life are going to have to extract her from this deathtrap known as my vehicle before the night ends. “I thought you said that Wren sold you and your brothers on this truck based on its impeccable safety record and reputation?”
I really should learn to keep my trap shut. “Sure. But just because something seems great doesn’t mean that crazy shit can’t happen. I don’t want any of that crazy shit to happen to you. So, if that means accidentally grabbing your breasts and fondling now and then to save your life, damn it, I’m going to do it.”
My stupid comments make her laugh like I intended, assuring me that at least for now, I won’t end up on some perv list.
In the quiet that follows, it occurs to me I’m still smiling. It’s an easy thing to do around Allie. In general, I’m an easy-going kind of guy and my grins come quick. Except, around Allie, those grins are different, probably since she’s different, too.
Allie isn’t loud and obnoxious like me and my family. She’s not as quiet as Sofia or as assertive as Tess. She’s not the plus-size supermodel Melissa easily could be, or someone who bounces into a room and immediately makes friends with everyone like Sol. She’s simply Allie. Someone you automatically know is a good person and will always do right by the world.
“What do you think will happen tonight?” she asks, pulling me from the thoughts and feelings that come when I think about her, and my preoccupation with when, exactly, those thoughts and feelings began. Was it when Shaqwana cut her long hair and brought out the woman beneath that all-too conservative exterior, when I saw the way she held my niece, or was it the way she touched me at the bakery—the way she always touches me, a little shy and reserved, giving me another hint of her gentle nature.
“Seamus?” she asks.
I grin. “Depends. Is good ol’ ‘I’m too cool to wear shoes with laces’ Andy buying?”
For some reason, my remark makes her nervous. “Valentina mentioned that he would,” she answers cautiously.
She thinks I’m up to no good. She’s right. “In that case, I say we order the most expensive items on the menu, and take a few extras for leftovers. Why are you looking at me like that? It’s the least the little prick can do after all that gum I gave him.” I shrug. “It all evens out. The price of gum isn’t what it used to be.”
“Oh, goodness,” she says. She seems mortified, but then she starts laughing.
“Very well,” she says. “Order whatever you’d like. But what I was referring to is what if they’re expecting an exchange of affection?”
“You mean if he tries to stick his tongue down her throat during dessert or something?” I grimace, trying not to gag. “I guess I’ll look away. I don’t want to see that shit.”
“You would be offended by them kissing?” she asks.
“Wouldn’t you be? I just picture this short, stubby tongue, grazing her teeth since it’s as far as it will go.” I cut myself off, making this choking sound as my stomach churns. “Damn. Why did you have to go there?”
Allie gasps. “What do you mean why did I have to go there? You’re the one who asked and answered a question I in no way suggested.” She quivers, as if trying not to get sick herself. “And while we’re on the topic, thank you for your rather graphic description. I could have done without the visual.”
“It couldn’t have been as bad as that visual you gave me. That statue I made of Wren and Evan dancing was supposed to be innocent,” I remind her. “Now I have to keep it covered or risk having nightmares.”
“I told you I’m sorry,” she squeaks. “How many times can I apologize for such an erroneous interpretation?”
“Not enough,” I say remembering that day. I point at her. “And about Andy’s tongue, you only have yourself to blame.”
“How is that my fault?” she asks, waving her hands.
Man, she’s cute when she’s animated. “You know how my mind wanders all over the place. You know I wouldn’t just stop. Now, I’m picturing all his other disturbingly stubby parts grabbing at her while she smiles and pretends to like it. Ugh. Did you really have to go there?”
The traffic is getting bad. Lots of assholes out, and even more young idiots who shouldn’t be driving reminding me to keep my eyes on the road. I let the faster drivers with the death wishes pass me, and angle around all the geriatric population coming home from the blue-plate specials featured in town. My mind needs to stay sharp, except visions of freakishly shaped little body parts wandering around man-made bouncy ones dance through my head.
I don’t realize Allie is laughing until I glance in her direction. She isn’t making a sound. It’s one of those silent laughs that hurt. Yup. Here she is, clutching her belly, her head thrown back, and little puffs of air releasing in tiny spurts. Then it happens. She can’t take it anymore. The sweet sounds of her hysterics fill my cabin like the laughter of angels who just placed a whoopee cushion on St. Peter’s chair. I don’t know if angels are allowed to pull practical jokes. But if they did, their laughter would sound like Allie’s.
“Fine. Crack up,” I tell her. “But there’s some shit you can’t unsee. Minute fingers making grabby motions are in my top ten, second only to bearded women with equally bearded penises.”
“You didn’t even see it!” she counters.
“I did so. But we were in Tijuana and it was a total accident.”
Allie is officially hunched over, curling into her stomach as if her insides will spill out if she lets go. “I meant the grabby little fingers,” she says. At least, that’s
as much as I make out through her bursts of giggles.
“It doesn’t matter.” I tap my temple. “It’s all up here. Jesus, how did you put up with that all those years?”
I shouldn’t have gone there, knowing what that dickhead did and how her family responded. What happened still hurts her. She didn’t just lose a man who claimed to love her, she lost her family the day they took his and Valentina’s side.
Instead of growing sad like I expect, she says something I don’t. “I’m not sure.”
“Neither am I,” I say, knowing she’s always deserved better.
A smirk forms around her cute face. If I were to ask her how she thinks she looks when she smirks, she’d probably assume she looks silly, not alluringly naughty.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.
“You know you can ask me anything,” I say.
Although she doesn’t say anything right away. “How do you know Andres has stubby body parts?”
“Men know these things,” I answer truthfully.
She nods as if she picked up on something obvious. “You mean the locker room.”
I stop at a light. Considering the weather, everyone in Philly seems to be out tonight. “What do you mean the locker room?” I ask, swiveling so I can better see her. “I never dressed anywhere near him. Even if I had, I wouldn’t be looking. Guys don’t look. We have what you call above the waist precision focus.”
“All right then. So how do you know he wasn’t . . .” Her gaze drops to my lap. I think she catches herself and jerks her head up. “Gifted,” she stammers.
“Not all of us can be,” I admit. Hey, she was probably wondering, might as well put her worries to rest.
“Um . . .”
Is it hot in here? No, it’s just Allie’s blush.
I let her off the hook. Well, somewhat. “So, let me ask you this. If you weren’t talking about Andres and his lack of suitable body parts, what were you talking about?”
Allie fusses with her skirt as if trying to straighten it. “I was talking about displays of affection between us.”
“Us?” I say, accelerating forward. I know what she means, I just think she needs to be the one to say it.
“Yes. I think my family may question our relationship if we’re not affectionate to some degree.” She plays with her hands. “It was different with your family. There I could sit on your lap, we could embrace, and that was enough. A restaurant isn’t the type of atmosphere that allows those types of exchanges.”
“No. It’s not,” I agree, liking how this sounds. I also love how flustered she’s getting. Damn. I would love to be the man for her. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand. I may even pull out your chair. But only if you’re good.”
She giggles. “So, all those times you’ve pulled out my chair for me, and all the doors you’ve opened to allow me through, have only been because I’ve been good?”
“Yeah. You should see what I’ll do if you’re naughty.”
At once her humor dies and my temperature spikes. Did I really just go there? My foot slides off the gas when she bites down on the little freckle on her bottom lip. I quickly work to regain control. Forget the pseudo-malfunctioning seatbelts. I’m going to get us killed if I don’t pay attention.
Allie is a little distracting. Who the hell am I fooling? Allie is making it almost impossible to drive. “You were really into character at the game,” she says. “The way you stroked my back and played with my hair was a sweet way to remind your family we’re together.”
“I was imitating, Killian and Sofia,” I admit, not that I minded. “And at times, Wren and Evan. But I didn’t hang tight to your ass. It’s something Finnie does with Sol. I didn’t think you’d like it, seeing how the first, and the second time I did it, you seemed ready to kill me.”
“It’s not that I didn’t like it. You caught me off guard and I wasn’t expecting it.”
She stops herself. I think it’s because she revealed more than she wanted to. But then, it’s like the misery that surges suddenly punches her in the gut. I don’t tell her that after a few passes of copying my sibs, my motions became as easy as breathing. Based on how sad she seems, I think I already said too much.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hating how miserable she appears.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were emulating anyone.” She sighs, her chin dropping. “I thought you were embracing and enjoying our time together.”
Holy shit. She wanted me to mean it. I’ll admit, at first, it was awkward and I was sure my family would call me on it. But each time my knuckles swept along her spine, she settled against me, and everything felt natural.
I never would have guessed it actually meant something to her, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to hurt her.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I don’t expect you to do anything if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”
The hotel comes into view and so does all its glory. Marble steps leading up to an extravagant entrance are cloaked with red carpet, welcoming anyone with enough bills to pay for their two-grand-a-night suites.
I pull in behind a Porsche, watching one of a team of valets hurry toward me. I set my truck in park and catch Allie’s stare. “Don’t worry about me,” I murmur. “I won’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable.”
I slide out of my truck and toss my keys to the valet. He’s a young kid with decent reflexes. Without missing a beat, he catches the keys and hands me a ticket. I march to Allie’s side, and as if we’ve done it a thousand times, she easily slips her arm through mine.
“What if Valentina and Andres are expecting more than just handholding?” she asks, eyeing the stone steps ahead instead of me.
“Like I said, I won’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable.”
CHAPTER 14
Seamus
We walk through a foyer of black granite and steel and head straight to the elevators. I’m not one for glitz and glamour. I prefer sitting at a dive bar, eating wings, and shooting the shit. That doesn’t mean I can’t handle what’s coming.
Money doesn’t intimidate me. Neither do assholes who think they’re better ‘cause they have it. I’m hoping Allie feels the same way. But I can sense her nervousness as easily as I feel the wool of her black cape rub against my arm.
Ordinarily, I’d keep yapping like a dog on steroids. But I’m not too dense to know she needs a moment. I let her have it, keeping her arm hooked through mine, reminding her she’s not in this alone.
I hit the button to the 50th floor, holding the door open to allow an elderly couple through. The man nods his thanks, adjusting his position so he and his wife face straight ahead.
“It’s a little cold tonight,” Allie says.
I watch the numbers change on the screen as we jet upward. I thought we were long past idle chitchat and remind her with my next comment. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you warm.”
Her eyes round as the woman standing in front of us turns back to glance at us briefly. The man turns too, offering me an encouraging wink.
I whisper into Allie’s ear. “Just getting into character. What do you think?” My lips hover close enough to brush against her skin. “Should I kick it up a notch?”
“No,” she stammers. “This is good.”
I ease away from Allie, noting how tense she appears, and how she didn’t seem to welcome my lips so close to her skin. I barely touched her. But if she thinks I’ll keep my hands to myself in front of Valentina and Andres, she’s dead wrong. I owe it to Allie to show them all she can have anyone she wants.
The elevator door opens with a ding. Allie keeps me in place, giving the elderly couple as much distance as the small space between the elevator and the restaurant allows.
My gaze takes in the area. Between the foyer and the combined floors, there’s enough marble and steel to build a castle and a few villages. Unlike the ancient look of a castle, the entire building screams ultra-mo
dern and would be happy to tell any would-be castle to fuck off.
We walk casually forward. There’s only a yard or so keeping us from the hostess desk. But the acoustics are enough to send the wave of murmurs from inside to greet us. Okay. Maybe not greet us.
There’s a coolness in the air and a heavy sense of entitlement. I’ve felt it when I’ve dined at so-called exclusive places. I guess that’s why I prefer local pubs and neighborhood restaurants. The people there are out to be out and have a good time. The owners are decent, they know you by name and want to run a nice place. Restaurants like this one are all about their reputations and need to maintain a high-level clientele.
The elderly couple is greeted by a tall woman with a bun on top of her head. We’ve given them enough time to give their names and be escorted to their seats.
“Welcome to Savate’s Steakhouse,” the second hostess says when she sees us. “Do you have reservations?”
Like Allie, the hostess is in a tiny black dress. But Allie looks better and definitely acts better. “I’m afraid our dining area is otherwise filled for the evening.”
Allie smiles at the snub, which is a lot better than how I take it. The hostess can probably guess I’m not a member of any country club.
“Party of four under Valentina Mendes,” Allie adds coolly.
The woman lights up. “Oh, yes,” she says, letting us know she recognized Valentina and how honored she was to be in her presence. “Your party is ready for you. May I take your coat?”
“Yeah. You could,” I say. I chose not to wear a coat, unless you count the jacket of my Dior suit. Don’t be surprised. I can be classy, and Evan was a real pal to lend it to me.
In one smooth move, I slip Allie’s cape from her shoulders.
“Ah, I’d rather keep it on,” she says.
The dark environment casts a shadow along her irises, adding to her allure. Good for her. Not so good for me. Jesus, it’s getting harder for me to stay in the friend zone, where I’m pretty sure she expects me to stay.
“Why?” I ask. I already know the answer. She’s having second thoughts about whether we can pull this off and feeling insecure, rather than owning how fantastic she looks.
