I grabbed her hand and pushed it to the table, making her wobble on her heels. “Sit down before you fall down. How many of these have you had?”
She held up her hand and raised one finger, then snapped it to two. She looked at her drink, the one I’d drunk half of, and bent her second finger down. Grace was well on her way to a terrible Tuesday of regret.
“I read an article this week that said orphans have trouble finding a significant other when they grow up.” She shrugged in a noncommittal way that meant, I don’t know if it’s true or not.
“Well, lucky for me, I have Grams.” I’d been living with her since the day my parents died in a car crash. I rubbed the area on my shoulder where the rebar had lodged. It still ached sometimes, especially when the weather was cold. A constant reminder of a day I couldn’t remember. When I closed my eyes, the canvas of my early life was always fuzzy. I heard the screams. I smelled the smoke. I felt my heart race and plummet to a stop. Then, nothing.
I jumped in my seat when my phone rang. The screen lit up while the “Imperial Death March” played.
“Are you going to answer?” Grace picked up my phone and laughed. “Who’s Vulture?”
Air rushed out of my mouth in a huff. “Landlord.”
She looked down at her phone. “It’s the fifth. Didn’t you pay your rent?”
I pretended to pound my head against the table. The nearly empty martini glasses shook and jingled.
“Paid what I could.”
“Which was?” She raised her hand to Tony again. “Talk of finances requires liquid reinforcement.”
“Not enough.” I drank martini number two just before Tony brought number three. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I was down to a blowup mattress and a lawn chair. The only thing I hadn’t sold was my computer and my phone—both requirements for work.
“Okay. So, what do you want to talk about?”
I needed to have some fun. “Let’s talk about my next date.” I looked over the rim of my glass around the bar. People were pairing up now. All it took were a few drinks and a two on the sexy scale to turn into a ten.
Grace scooted around the booth until her back faced the wall. Her green eyes swept the room like laser-guided missiles. “What about him?” She nodded toward the door where three corporate America men stood sipping dark beer.
“Which one?”
“Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dapper.” She rimmed her glass with her finger until it sang something akin to a B flat.
I looked at the darkest-haired man in the group. He was fine if you liked trust-fund-babies and country clubs. My tastes were less refined. “He’s such a peacock.” I preferred a man who demanded respect with a single look while wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
“It’s always the birds with you.” She leaned over the table as if her sight were failing. After three drinks, maybe it was. “He’s more of a rooster, don’t you think? I love a rooster’s cocksure demeanor—the way they strut their stuff.”
“What you like is their cock-a-doodle-doo.”
Grace burst out a laugh “That, among other things.” She licked the sugared rim of her glass, and I was certain any man looking had just gone weak in the knees.
“What other things?” I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Grace and I had been inseparable since the day I showed up at St. Mary’s dressed in my plaid uniform and my new light-up sneakers. Sisters from different misters, but with totally different outlooks.
“I don’t know. Handsome in that I’ve-got-a-Maserati way. And look at his friend.”
One guy had a beak for a nose; the other, a barrel for a belly. “Which one? The toucan, or the grouse?”
“I like a man with a strong nose.” She looked around the bar again. “Okay, tell me which of these guys is the bird for your nest.”
I giggled to myself because anyone coming to my nest would have to embrace simple living and ramen noodles. My eyes went from man to man until I’d rounded the room. “If men were birds, and I had to choose one, it wouldn’t be anyone here.”
“Oh, come on.” She pinched my arm. She had a way of getting the tiniest bit of skin—just enough to send a pulse of pain through every nerve ending. “Play with me.”
“I’m serious.” I looked at all the pretty boys dressed in Brooks Brothers. “All these guys are birds of paradise. They stand around and look pretty.” I drank the rest of my martini. “They don’t know what they want. They come here and peck at the feed every night... I want the guy who’s not afraid to swoop down and fight for me.”
“You’re asking for a bird of prey.” She bit her lip and raised her brow. “You know they eat everything in their path?”
“Being eaten doesn’t sound half bad.” I picked up my purse and slid out of the booth. “I’ll leave you to your peacocks and roosters. I’ll wait for my hawk.”
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Acknowledgments
Why a mafia book? Why not? I was in the middle of writing the Aspen Cove Romance Series and thought, I’ll write something a little sexier and more sinister, but I also wanted to appeal to a broad audience. Rather than stick to the standard trope, I created a family of men who were mafia by birth and not by choice. When their father dies, they will do anything to separate from the ‘family business.’
I hope you love this series. There are always so many people to thank, but I’ll keep it short this time and thank Michele Catalano for the amazing cover. Darren Birks Photography for the great image. Karen Boston for editing, and a host of avid readers for either beta reading or proofreading. This includes Melissa, Tammy, Sabrina, Judy, and Rebecca, and Janice.
Most of all thank you for picking up this book and investing your time to read my words.
Hugs,
Kelly
Do you like bad boys?
The Boys of Fury Series
Redeeming Ryker
Saving Silas
Delivering Decker
The Boys of Fury Boxset
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About the Author
International bestselling author of more than thirty novels, Kelly Collins writes with the intention of keeping the love alive. Always a romantic, she blends real-life events with her vivid imagination to create characters and stories that lovers of contemporary romance, new adult, and romantic suspense will return to again and again.
Kelly lives in Colorado at the base of the Rocky Mountains with her husband of twenty-seven years, their two dogs, and a bird that hates her. She has three amazing children, whom she loves without reservation.
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Betting On Us (Wilde Love Book 3) Page 18
