Exploding: A Mafia Romance (The O'Keefe Family Collection #1)

by Tuesday Embers

  Vince chuckled, a deep and velvety sound Fallyn had been endeared to when she’d been a child. She hadn’t heard him laugh in years. “Maria woos me, yes. She has all sorts of things that keep me coming back against my better judgment.”

  “Thing one and thing two?” Fallyn asked, motioning to her breasts.

  Vince barked out a laugh, looking years younger as a genuine smile washed over him. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  Fallyn watched his cool demeanor fall to the wayside. “Huh. You look younger when you’re happy. Haven’t seen you look like that in a long time, kiddo. A smile looks good on you.”

  Vince blanched. “Kiddo? I’m twelve years older than you!” The smile he’d not accessed in ages spread across his sculpted lips, revealing a roguish dimple in his left cheek. “I guess it has been a while since I’ve had a good laugh.”

  “That’s a shame. That’s the thing about all work and no play. See that you schedule yourself some time to just be. If you’re anything like Killian when he took over for Daddy, you’re no doubt running yourself ragged. You’ll be no good to Maria like that – in the kitchen or the bedroom.”

  “You brought back a mouth when you came home, Little Keefer. A mouth and no shoes.” He pointed to her bare feet. “I remember you mousier, running upstairs whenever Papa D and I came over.”

  “That’s the thing about men with guns.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, dumping the ruined caramel and starting over with fresh ingredients. “I’m home now. You can stop by for éclairs whenever you like, but keep the others away until the truce sticks for more than a few months.” She motioned to the fridge. “Grab the cream for me?”

  Vince moved to the fridge, unsure how it was that he found himself helping the O’Keefe girl in the kitchen. “Where’s your double boiler?”

  “Just dump it in the pot. I don’t need a double boiler for caramel.”

  Vince rolled his eyes at her and fished around under the counter for a medium-sized steel mixing bowl. “See? That’s your problem. You’re taking shortcuts. You have to use a double boiler, or the cream will heat unevenly and much too fast. I thought you studied cooking in school.”

  “Um, I know you’re not criticizing my food. You just had my éclair shoved in your mouth two seconds ago, and you were begging for more.”

  “Begging?” His eyebrows rose, astonished at the ease of her moxie and how endearing he found her playful fights. “I didn’t beg.”

  “You said, and I quote, ‘Fallyn, I thought I knew what life was about until I tasted your éclair. Now I know how foolish I was to call anything before it a life. Please give me more. Please, I beg of you! Beautiful woman, give me more of your baking!’” Fallyn shrugged. “I mean, I thought you were being a little dramatic, but it’s cool.”

  Vince laughed. “I said all that, did I?”

  “I’d be willing to sign an affidavit to that effect.”

  He filled the pot with an inch of water and set the mixing bowl on top, pouring the cream inside and turning on the flame. “Begging’s one thing you’ll never hear me do. See? Now it won’t scald.” He shook his head to scold her, looking down on her demure smile that had never looked more appealing or left him more confused. “Caramel without a double boiler? Irish girls.”

  “Oh, suddenly you’re the king of baking?”

  “I own four restaurant chains!” he reminded her, incredulous she was mocking him with a scandalous smirk on her pink lips. Everyone in his life aside from his girlfriend and his family was too afraid of him to tease him, and his girlfriend and family didn’t have that playful desire in them. “You’re something else, Little Keefer.”

  “A little tip from me to you on women? Once we’ve graduated from pigtails, we don’t like to be called ‘little’ anything. I’m twenty-five.” When Vince went to add the brown sugar, Fallyn stopped him. “Wait, I have to add the cayenne next. I have a system.”

  Vince scoffed. “A broken system. Cayenne doesn’t belong in caramel, Litt—Fallyn.”

  “He can be taught!” she declared, reaching down the shaker of cayenne pepper and unscrewing the lid. She toed her heels back on so she didn’t feel so dwarfed in her own kitchen. “Scoot over.”

  Vince shook his head with wide eyes. “Not a chance. I’m emotionally invested in this caramel now. I may just take the whole pot home with me once I finish fixing what you broke. Don’t even think about doing that to your customers. They’ll revolt.”

  “Whatever, V. It’s my kitchen. This whole enchilada belongs to little old me. If I wanted to put ketchup, mayonnaise and pickles in the caramel, I guess that’d be my prerogative.” She bumped his side with her hip. “Scoot over.”

  “You put pickles in this, and I’m throwing it out.” He bumped her side in return, laughing at the silliness of it all. He hadn’t joked so easily in years, perhaps too many years that had stacked on top of each other like mindless work horses, ready for only the next day, but not for the possibility of anything brighter. He fought with her hip, laughing and dodging her elbow as she giggled her way between him and the stove, edging him out with her backside. He wrestled with her wrist, trying to twist the spice out of her hand before she ruined his dessert. He thrilled at the joy of the moment, wishing everything in life came this easy. He couldn’t remember the last time Maria had made him laugh, or the last time he’d smiled at anything that wasn’t vindictive.

  When Maria demanded he get her another credit card, that had been funny. But it was nothing to Fallyn’s youthful giggles and playful jabs of how she would “make him pay for all eternity” if he tried to change her recipe.

  They were so caught up in the fun of the moment that Fallyn lost her footing and pitched forward, yelping as she nearly burned herself on the hot pan. Vince’s arm shot around her with his lightning reflexes, his palm landing on her breast as he jerked her backward and pinned her spine to his chest. They were both breathing unevenly from the laughter and the jabbing, and they took a few seconds to catch their breath as they remained stuck to each other.

  Vince took in a lungful of the scent of her hair. She smelled of vanilla and lavender, and before he could stop himself, he knew he had never inhaled a sweeter or more enticing scent. He held Fallyn’s left breast, steadying both of them as their hearts banged against each other’s. Maria’s breasts were painfully fake. It had been a long time since he’d felt a firm pair of natural, full breasts. He listened to her breathing hitch, wondering why neither of them were pulling away from the inappropriate entanglement. His hand screamed at him for retreating as his palm migrated from her left breast toward the center of her cleavage. “Sorry. Did you burn yourself?”

  “No,” she whispered, afraid to break the tension that had come out of nowhere. She realized she had landed herself in the viper’s arms. She had joked with the snake, laughed with him. If her brothers could see her, she knew there would be fallout not even her best diplomatic reasoning could field. “Thanks for that. I nearly burned myself all over.” She turned her wrist and shook a healthy amount of cayenne pepper into the bowl, grinning as Vince hissed in defeat. “I win.”

  “Yes, but your customers lose.” His lips were too close to her ear for the candid business greeting he’d intended. He’d never thought much about Fallyn in the ways that were now running through his head; she was so much younger than he was growing up. She had always been beautiful; there was no denying that, but her time away had transformed the beauty into a bombshell. A bombshell whose breasts he could feel the swell of as she breathed in the sexual tension neither of them were equipped to deal with.

  Her hand reached up and rested on his, tangling her fingers through his atop her breasts. “My heart’s racing,” she admitted, shocked that she wanted his hand to stay where it was. She had never been so daring, and knew she was on the edge of something dangerous. “Feel that?”

  “Mine, too.” His other hand found its way to her side, snaking around her stomach and causing her to arch her back. “I definitely feel it
.”

  Fallyn’s free hand took on a life of its own, reaching up behind her to stroke his cheek, feeling the stubble there and holding her breath when his lips turned to her palm to deliver a silent kiss for her to hold onto long after their moment of insanity had passed.

  He slowly released her, backing up to assume a more respectable distance. “I should go. Please tell your family I stopped by to wish you luck with your store.” He ran his hand through his black hair, messing the tresses that he usually kept perfectly in place. She was disheveling him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about a curvy tornado messing up the balance of his life’s plan. “I really do want peace between our families. Any way we can work toward that, we should.”

  Fallyn touched her chest where his hand had been, her eyes wide at the thoughts she had been entertaining mere seconds ago. She nodded slowly. “I’ve been saying that all along.” She cleared her throat, standing straighter. “If you really want peace, give it time and tread lightly. Keep an eye on Joey and Tony. They tend to run their mouths, and some of my brothers have hot tempers. Bad combination. Killian wants what you want, though. Daddy put him in charge, so I’d appeal to him. Ignore the others if they seem resistant to the truce. Kill can handle his own people.”

  Vince took in her lovely face and mulled over her words. “I can deal with Joey and Tony. Any way you can get Carrigan to stop driving his patrol car around the edge of our neighborhood every night? It makes everyone edgy.”

  Fallyn nodded. “I can ask him to stop, but you know Carri does what he wants.”

  “You have more sway than you realize. I’m not expecting you to work miracles, but a word or two from you might help.”

  “You’re overestimating my reach.”

  Vince paused a beat, and then reached forward to wipe a bit of flour off her cheekbone. For those precious seconds, he ignored his inner voice screaming for him to back away from the fire he didn’t recognize might start burning within him if he stood too near her warmth. “I know better than to underestimate your reach, Little Keefer. Enjoy the flowers and that terrible, disgusting caramel you’re making.”

  Fallyn’s heart pounded as Vince let himself out the backdoor and out into the alley. “My name’s Fallyn!” she called over her shoulder to him. She turned back to the stove, glad that no one had seen the strangest exchange between a D’Amato and an O’Keefe.

  6

  Spread Too Thin

  For Fallyn, the next morning was just an extension of the night, which she had worked clean through. She had taken to only going home for a shower and to change clothes, indulging in the briefest periods of rest at the shop when she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

  Her hands were shaking with exhaustion, feeling too feeble and thin as she pulled the last pan of muffins out, having made more than she had the day before so she was not caught unprepared. Declan promised her a cashier transferred from one of his stores who was due to be in five minutes ago, which put her ten minutes ahead of Jen. The orders for custom-made cakes were stacking up, and she hadn’t even had a moment to touch the slips that called to her, taunting her that she would fall behind and her brothers would have to swoop in and keep her from drowning. Danny had secured her a catering gig for four hundred at the law firm where he worked, and she worried how she would ever fill such a large order, and still keep on top of everything else.

  Then there were thoughts of Vince with his hand pressed against her breasts. It still gave her guilty chills that she tried to shake off, but secretly she reveled in the thrill he gave her. She kept sneaking peeks at the flowers he’d brought, knowing they were a peace offering and nothing more.

  Fallyn shook off her exhaustion, determined she would finish the muffins, the cupcakes, the pastries and every other detail before she passed out. Long ago had she toed off her heels, instead roaming around the kitchen with bleary eyes in her bare feet.

  “Hey, workaholic. Did you really sleep here again last night?” Jen greeted her friend as she clocked in and fastened her apron in place. Her shoulders slumped as she took in the bags under Fallyn’s eyes. “Please tell me you slept.”

  “I did. Just had to get in early to fire everything up.”

  Jen stood in the middle of the messy kitchen and waited until Fallyn passed in front of her to grab her friend by the shoulders. “Slow down. You don’t have to work this hard. I know you’re lying to me. I know you didn’t go home last night. When was the last time you went out? Did anything other than this bakery?”

  Fallyn wiped a line of lime green icing down her temple in an attempt to mop some sweat off her face. “It’s a new business, Jen. I have to stay on top of things, or I’ll lose it. I’ll lose everything. I’ve worked so hard to get my own place. I can’t drop the ball now!” She could hear the hysteria in her tone, but she couldn’t tame it.

  Jen shushed her kindly, rubbing her hands down the length of Fallyn’s arms to calm her. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re not dropping the ball. This is a thriving business, but you can’t keep at this pace. Declan sent over one of his cashiers, right?”

  “He hired her originally. Not me. He did.” Fallyn lowered her chin in defeat. “Declan doesn’t think I can do this, but I can!”

  “Of course you can,” Jen soothed her friend. “You just kept a shop girl from getting laid off and saved yourself the headache of having to sift through yet more resumes to fill the spot. Have you looked at the resumes for hiring a second baker?”

  Fallyn turned her head guiltily in the direction of the stack of resumes sitting atop her desk in her office. “Not yet. I wanted to see if I could handle it all myself back here.”

  Jen looked her straight in the eye, cupping Fallyn’s chin. “You can’t. No one can. Even with an extra baker, you might still fall behind. This is a lot of work, and your food is the best. The quality will start to suffer if you’re muscling through every day. You have to hire someone today.” A fist pounded on the backdoor. “See? That’s probably the new cashier now. You need to get some space. Get some air. Take those resumes and go home for a bit. Get some sleep. You’re no good to me half-dead.”

  Fallyn’s lower lip quivered, and she blamed the offense on the extreme nature of her exhaustion. It had been too many nights she’d worked around the clock. She flung her arms around Jen’s neck and squeezed. “Thanks, Jen. I’m so tired, I can barely see straight.”

  “Well, then you’re not driving.”

  “I’ll just catch a quick nap at my desk after showing the new girl around the place and training her.”

  “How about I train the new girl, and you go home.” Jen opened the door, revealing a leggy blonde in a short skirt that looked to be in her mid-twenties. “I can see why Declan hired you,” Jen simpered, extending her hand to the girl. “I’m Jen. Welcome to Sweet Somethings. Do you have any experience with a cash register?”

  “Three years retail. I’m Hannah. And you’re the owner? Fallyn O’Keefe?” She turned to greet Fallyn with a bright smile that Fallyn was sure would attract customers for miles. Declan had an eye for that sort of thing.

  “Yes. Good to meet you.” She handed Hannah an apron and was about to start in on showing her around, but Jen had other plans.

  Jen placed her hand on her best friend’s back and lightly shoved her toward the door. She trotted to the office and gathered Fallyn’s things, placing the stack of resumes, the pink purse and heels in Fallyn’s hands. “Go find us a new clone of you. Go home, take a shower, take a nap. Come back at noon. Sound good?” Jen didn’t wait for a response. “Good.”

  Fallyn stood in the back alley, flabbergasted that she’d been kicked out of her own store. The air was crisp in the early dawn, and she breathed in the scent that was not laced with the constant refrain of sugar she’d been inundated with. She knew she should go home, but the constant call of work would only be solved with hiring a second baker. She drew in several steadying breaths, slipped on her heels and strolled down the street to see if anything was open so
she could sit down while she leafed through the stack.

  Sweet Somethings was the only place that opened at six, which guaranteed them a solid morning crowd. Fallyn meandered back to her store, but knew she wouldn’t be able to get inside without Jen throwing her back out again. So she took down one of the white aluminum chairs that had been stacked on the patio and flopped down into it. With how overly tired she was, the rigid back and unpadded seat could have been a luxury sofa. Fallyn started reading the first resume, determined not to have another day like yesterday happen every day of her life.

  After the third lackluster recounting of a person’s employment history, Fallyn’s eyes began to droop. She fought off her exhaustion valiantly, getting through two more resumes and ruling them unfit before her head found its home on the tabletop. Fallyn shut her eyes, leaving the bakery to take care of itself.

  7

  Handguns and Accepting Help

  A man’s hand ran down Fallyn’s back, softening her trek back to wakefulness. “I can do it by myself, Declan,” she murmured, not bothering to open her eyes.

  “Am I so forgettable that you’re confusing me with another barista already?” came a voice that was certainly not her brother’s.

  Fallyn’s eyes flew open, and her head shot up, a resume sticking to her cheek as she whipped her head around, shocked that it was almost mid-morning. “Jiminy Cricket! What time is it?”

  James chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say ‘Jiminy Cricket’ who wasn’t ninety. It’s eight o’clock.” He took in her puffy eyes and slumped posture. “When was the last time you got a solid night’s sleep?”