“Oh,” she said, like he’d startled her. “Hi, Caleb.”
He fought past his annoyance, trying to remember why he was here. “How are you? It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. Things have been crazy.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Liv laughed like he was a comedian about to get a syndicated sitcom, even as Matt’s nostrils flared. “Why would my sister be avoiding you?”
“I wouldn’t be.” She rolled her eyes. “You know how sensitive Captain Integrity is. He’s a delicate flower.”
“Yeah? Well, he better have stayed in his own pot.”
“Simmer down, Matty. Do I look like the kind of woman who gets taken advantage of?”
Matt shrugged, but a hint of a smile tugged his lips upward.
“Caleb’s the one you should be worrying about.” She finally turned toward him. “Does Jen have you and Joslyn engaged yet, or is she going to let you go on a date first?”
He held up his left hand. “Do you see me wearing a ring?”
Her gaze found Joslyn, and her brow wrinkled like she was reading through an absurdly long arrest report. “I can’t believe that’s the kind of woman Jen thinks you need. She’s usually better at setting people up.”
A minute ago, he’d been annoyed with Jen and all too eager to get away from Joslyn, but Liv’s teasing made him protective. “Joslyn seemed nice.”
“Nice?” Liv asked, like he’d called Joslyn a serial killer.
“Responsible. Put together.”
“If we’re gonna talk about our feelings, I’m outta here.” Matt grabbed a beer from the fridge, then headed to the living room. Alex and Rafe followed.
Liv smirked. “You do realize that you’re describing the female version of yourself, right?”
He wished. “So?”
“You really think you can be happy with someone like that? You need someone to shake you up. Jar you out of your routine. You and Ms. Ideal Woman would spend your entire lives waking up the second the alarm rang, going to work, eating a healthy dinner, watching the news, and then going to bed by eleven PM.”
That was exactly what he wanted, but not when Liv described it in that disdainful voice. “Just because I don’t neglect my responsibilities doesn’t mean I can’t be spontaneous.”
“If you say so. Anyway, that’s not the real problem.”
“And what is the real problem, Dr. Love?”
“Was that sarcasm, Captain Integrity?” Her eyes glinted with triumph.
“Never mind,” he muttered.
Too late. Liv had sensed a weakness and she was moving in. “The real problem is, there’s no spark. I saw the way you looked at that woman, and you were not thinking about banging her.”
The words echoed off the walls of the empty kitchen—where had everyone gone?—and, all of a sudden, he couldn’t think about anything but sex. “How do you know? You can’t read my mind.”
“I can tell when a guy is thinking about sex. And you, my friend, were not.”
“Oh yeah? How do I look when I think about sex?”
She took a delicate sip of her cocktail. His frame of vision narrowed to her lips against the glass. Her throat working as she swallowed the icy liquid.
“You look hot,” she said, finally.
He felt hot, like the temperature in the small room had shot into the hundreds. Why the hell were they alone? Didn’t anyone need another beer or a bruschetta?
As if in answer to his prayers, the timer above the oven buzzed. Jen rushed in, with Becca crawling a few feet behind her, and the dangerous wildness drained out of Caleb’s veins.
As Jen lifted a pan of lasagna out of the oven, Joslyn reappeared. “Can I help with anything? Please, put me to work.”
“Absolutely not.” Jen searched for an empty space on the counter for the pan. “You relax. Caleb, can you pour Joslyn a glass of wine?”
“That’s okay.” Joslyn’s blush returned. “I can get it myself.”
Liv widened her eyes meaningfully, like Joslyn had somehow proved her point, and Caleb grabbed the open bottle of Cabernet from the kitchen island. “No worries. I’ve got it.”
Becca pulled herself upright on one of the cabinets. She squealed with accomplishment and started making her way across the room, using the cabinet handles to keep herself balanced.
He stopped to watch, marveling at her speed. The last time he’d seen her, she’d barely been able to stand and now she was practically running, headed straight for—
“The oven!” He hurled himself across the room, breath wheezing through his lungs. Too late. He was going to be too late.
And then, somehow, Joslyn was there. She flung herself in front of Becca, blocking the baby from the hot surface and catching hold of her little body so she didn’t fall. Caleb stood between Jen and Liv, who both looked the way he felt—like they were trying to remember how to breathe.
“That’s a hot oven, Becca. We don’t touch the hot oven.” Joslyn’s voice was serious but gentle. So different from his mother’s indifferent tone. Well. Now you know it’s hot.
She was curled around Becca, her protective instincts so natural, so ingrained, that the realization hit Caleb all at once. Jen had been right. This was exactly the woman he’d been searching for.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” At the sound of her mother’s concern, Becca started to cry.
“She’s fine.” Joslyn straightened up, closing the oven with one hand while bouncing Becca with the other, and Becca’s cry faded to a whimper.
“What about you?” Jen checked Joslyn over, sucking in a breath when she got to Joslyn’s left hand. “You burned yourself!” An angry red line ran the length of Joslyn’s forearm. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so distracted—”
“Don’t worry. I can barely feel it.”
“You will once the adrenaline wears off.” Liv crossed the kitchen. “I’ll get the burn cream.”
“You should get that arm under cold water.” Caleb turned on the faucet in the sink, making sure the water ran cool before he motioned Joslyn over.
Apparently Jen’s concern was eclipsed by her matchmaking ambitions, because she suddenly decided to change Becca’s diaper, leaving Caleb and Joslyn alone in the kitchen.
Joslyn’s forehead unknit as soon as she stuck her arm under the water. “That does feel better. I guess it hurt more than I realized.” She smiled at him, simple and sweet and open, and that part of him that was always watching to make sure his emotions didn’t rage out of control finally relaxed. This was what he needed. Someone who would keep him calm. In check.
He cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t the best time…I don’t want to take advantage of you while you’re in a weakened condition, but I’d really like to see you again. Would you like to have dinner next week?”
She jerked in surprise, her arm coming out of the water for a second. “But I thought…”
He fought past the wave of disappointment. “Don’t worry. I can take rejection like a man.”
“I was under the impression that you and Olivia were…involved.”
“Me and Liv?” He huffed out a laugh. “Never in a million years.”
She raised one brow, examining him carefully, and he suddenly understood how such a sweet woman could keep a room full of rowdy five-year-olds in line. It was like she was conducting a thorough search of his brain, cataloguing all the bad thoughts inside.
“Liv is like a sister to me,” he explained. “An annoying little sister I have to keep out of trouble, because Mom left me in charge. Neither of us has the least bit of romantic interest in the other.”
The skeptical frown on Joslyn’s face called up every errant fantasy or dream that had starred his best friend’s little sister. The spark that lit him up whenever Liv accidentally smiled at him.
He focused on his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and calm and ordered, exactly the way he wanted his life to be.
“In that
case,” Joslyn said, “I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“Great.”
Liv rushed through the door, hands full of creams and bandages. “Sorry. I love Rafe and Jen—I do—but they make me look like an anal-retentive clean freak. I had to excavate ten generations of crap to find anything useful in their bathroom.”
She came to an abrupt halt. “Sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
He had the strangest urge to back away from Joslyn, which was crazy, because he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He had every right to ask her out.
“No,” Joslyn said. “Not at all.”
“Well, then.” Liv wedged herself between him and Joslyn, the tube of burn cream in her hand. “Let’s take care of that burn.”
*
Sorry to bail on the party, but I have a ton of studying to do. See you next week at Rosie’s?
Liv sat in the car in front of her Aunt Celia’s house, sticking her tongue out at her cell phone even though her best friend couldn’t see her. Studying, her ass. More like Keri was in bed with her fiancé. Which, to be fair, was exactly where Liv would be if she were engaged to a hot Navy SEAL who might be deployed thousands of miles away at any moment. But that didn’t mean Liv wasn’t going to give her friend a hard time about it.
Have fun with your boy toy, she texted back. Remember to use a condom.
She took a deep breath, but she couldn’t convince herself to open the car door. She was still off-balance from seeing Caleb at Rafe’s house last night. She’d spent the last three months avoiding him, picking up extra shifts at Hannigan’s during family functions he was likely to attend and even faking sick once. She’d figured Captain Integrity wouldn’t tattle about the tattoo without talking to her first—his strict moral code would never allow that. And if she avoided him for long enough, maybe he’d forget all about Permanent Ink.
But one look at him last night had been enough to prove he hadn’t forgotten a thing. If Joslyn hadn’t provided such a good distraction, the moment of truth would’ve happened already. And here she was, tempting fate again. But she couldn’t ditch her cousin Ella’s engagement party. She’d have to hope that, for once, her family had remembered Caleb wasn’t actually a Voretti, and thus shouldn’t have to suffer through the four weeks of mandatory family “fun” leading up to Ella’s wedding.
Liv adjusted her left sleeve, even though there was no way the closely fit silk could’ve crept up far enough to reveal the tattoo. Then she forced herself out of the car. As she navigated the flagstone path into the backyard, she tried to think happy thoughts.
Though it had only been a week since her parents had promised her the loan, she’d already gotten a tip on the perfect location for Designs by Olivia from a realtor friend. The second she’d seen the huge plate-glass windows, high ceilings, and crown moldings, she’d known the space was perfect. It wasn’t up for lease for another month and a half, but her friend had promised her first dibs on the place as soon as it was available. Which meant every step she took brought her that much closer to opening day.
That thought was enough to coax her to crack open the back gate. She surveyed the throngs of people holding paper plates filled with lasagna and braciole. Her twin brothers Matt and Alex were hanging out by the pool, but there was no sign of Caleb. So far, so good.
“Olivia?”
Liv jumped, snagging her sleeve on the latch. Her heart rate kicked up into the stratosphere. Don’t rip.
Don’t rip. Don’t rip. Don’t rip.
She eased the fabric free. There was only a tiny hole in her sleeve, so the tattoo was still covered. Still, her grandmother was staring at her.
“What is wrong, Bella?”
“Nothing!”
Nonna’s bright pink lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “You have problem.”
“No I don’t.” Liv’s tattoo throbbed. Was it her imagination, or was Nonna staring right at it even though it was fully covered? “I’m just…you know…not in the mood for a party.”
“You love the parties.” Nonna took Liv’s arm and hauled her forward.
At least, with Nonna Hazel at her side, her other relatives wouldn’t get too close. “I’m tired. That’s all.”
“You young people think it is waste of time to sleep. You spend all night at the bar or the club and then you wonder why you are so tired.”
“I was at Rafe’s. And I left at nine.” Liv didn’t add that she’d stayed up until two AM reworking a dress for her Design Divas collection.
“Hmm.” Nonna stopped under the peach castle-style gazebo Uncle Alberto and Aunt Celia had built for Ella’s eighth birthday. Her narrow-eyed gaze burrowed right inside Liv’s skull, but all she said was, “Would be too bad not to show off this outfit. You made, yes?”
“Mmmhmm.” Liv peeked past Nonna Hazel’s perfectly set white curls, making sure the cluster of Vorettis by the Jacuzzi was Caleb-free.
“Is very nice fabric.” Nonna Hazel grabbed Liv’s sleeve, rubbing the black silk between her thumb and forefinger, and Liv pulled away so fast the sleeve almost tore off.
Nonna smiled placidly. “What do you call?”
“It’s, uh, silk.”
“Is lovely. You will make for me, yes? For my Ella’s wedding?”
“You have got to be kidding,” interrupted an unpleasantly nasal voice.
Great. Bridezilla had found them.
“Ella Rose!” Nonna Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “This is no way to speak to your Nonna.”
Liv turned to face her cousin head on, trying not to smirk. Today, Ms. Perfect was dressed in peach from head to toe. Peach headband. Peach tank. Peach tennis skirt. Peach ankle socks. She’d even found peach sneakers.
“Well, of course you’d look gorgeous in anything, Nonna,” Ella said. “But you know my colors are peach and sea mist. You can’t wear black to a peach and sea mist wedding. It’s bad luck.”
“Is worse luck to talk back to your Nonna.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. Think about the pictures. When you look through my wedding album, you’re not going to want to look all washed out compared to everyone else.”
“Washed out? I do not know what is this washed out.” Nonna Hazel wandered off, muttering under her breath. Liv didn’t speak much Italian, but she was pretty sure she recognized a couple of curses.
Ella rolled her eyes. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“Speaking of beds,” Liv said, “I’m pretty tired, so—”
“Don’t even think about it.” Ella grabbed Liv’s arm, her manicured peach claws digging deep. “We need to talk. You know how Annabelle is taking that extended honeymoon? Well, last night, I realized she’s not going to be back in time for my big day.” Ella rolled her eyes toward the peach turret roof. “Who takes a three month honeymoon?”
Liv had a vague memory of saying something along the same lines to Annabelle herself, but hearing the words come through Ella’s peach gloss lips made her bristle. “A workaholic who hadn’t had a vacation for the past five years.”
“The point is, it puts me in a really bad position. I can’t have an uneven number of bridesmaids and groomsmen. So I’ve made a decision. I’m going to add you to the wedding party.” Ella beamed, like she was waiting for Liv to compose a sonnet to express her gratitude.
Liv’s hands clenched into fists.
Perfect. She’d been in Ella’s presence for sixty seconds, and she’d already regressed back to age three, when there was only one way to resolve a disagreement.
Do not punch your cousin in the face at her engagement party.
Liv took a deep breath and concentrated on her store instead of the satisfying crunch her fist would make if it connected with Ella’s cheekbone. The huge windows, letting in plenty of natural light. The plush ottomans where shoppers would rest while they admired her dresses or waited for a friend in the fitting room. The old-fashioned mirrors that would reflect the rich, jewel-toned fabrics.
When her fists
had unclenched, she extracted Ella’s claws from her arm. “I’d love to be a bridesmaid, but I’m really busy.” That wasn’t even a lie, and Liv gave herself a mental pat on the back. She was totally pulling off this emotional-maturity thing. “I’m working extra shifts at Hannigan’s. And I have to get my collection ready for the Design Divas finale challenge.”
At the mention of the competition, which had been airing on a local TV network, Ella’s mud-brown eyes took on a calculating gleam. “Perfect! They can film everyone in the wedding party trying on their dresses. You know—for those background pieces about the contestants they always do. And you’ll be able to tell them how my sense of style inspired your designs. Well, the good ones. Not those weird, all-black things you make sometimes.”
“Actually,” Liv took pleasure in informing Ella, “I’m going through a black period right now. Everything is black—shirts, pants, dresses.”
“Everything?”
“Absolutely everything. But don’t worry. I totally understand that you won’t want to be associated with me on the show. In fact, it’s probably better if I’m not too closely involved in your wedding. What about Keira? She’d love to be a bridesmaid.”
“Too short. Not that I mind. But you know how upset Brandon would be if she ruined the symmetry of the pictures.”
“Meg?”
“Have you seen how much she weighs now?”
“What about Claire?”
“She’s swamped with work.”
More like she doesn’t want to be in Bridezilla’s wedding either.
“Besides, I want you.” Ella threw her arms around Liv, like Liv was a life-sized peach plush teddy bear she’d won at the fair. “I’m so excited! We’re going to have the best time!”
Even Ella’s perfume smelled like peaches, and with each breath, the width of Liv’s windpipe shrunk. She wrenched herself free of her cousin’s grip. “I don’t know, Ella. I—”
“There you are, Livvy!”
Liv swallowed the rest of her sentence. Her parents wouldn’t appreciate her telling Ella to go to hell, even if she was doing it calmly and maturely.
“Aunt Franny! Uncle Tony! I’m so glad you’re here.” Ella threw her arms wide for a hug, but was careful not to make actual contact with either of Liv’s parents, probably afraid of contaminating her outfit with sauce from their overflowing plates. “Now we can tell you the great news!”
Pretty in Ink (Voretti Family Book 3) Page 4
