Smoke
My parents taught me to give.
If you had plenty and someone was in need, you gave until that need was met.
It wasn’t in their nature to be greedy. They may have started their lives in that gray area and left it, I may live there now, but that didn’t mean we were selfish.
It meant we were smart.
Calculating.
Maggie had a need, and I hope like fuck I met it. From the way she lay boneless against me, naked and glorious, I got the impression I did.
Christ, was she hot.
She let go completely, released everything. Did a little giving of her own last night.
She didn’t stir when I moved her onto the pillow, brushing back the hair from her smooth, pretty face. There was no expression on her features. No worry or fear like there’d been when I’d carried her in here before she’d asked me to stay.
The anxious way she’d jerked awake, automatically reaching for the kid, desperate to find him, twisted something inside me.
Hated seeing her like that.
That shit came from fear and terror, like she expected someone to swoop in and steal away with her boy.
Maggie had a secret.
She had worries, and I planned to find out where all that shit came from.
She might not ever be my woman—a man like me couldn’t afford attachments like a woman or a kid—but she needed someone to have her back. That much, I could do.
The sheet fell from my waist when I slipped away from her. I tugged on my pajama bottoms, stretching as I headed for the living room. The snow was everywhere, sheets of it. The sun would melt some of it, but the frigid temps would keep most of it on the ground. The weather would keep us indoors and give me time to work on Maggie and those secrets of hers.
There was a small cry from the hallway, and I walked through the open door, closing it softly before I headed to the second bedroom. Mateo was on his stomach, doing some baby version of a push-up when I walked in. Mateo’s mouth split into a huge grin when he spotted me, and those dimples made an automatic appearance.
“What? It’s Christmas, so you think I’ll soften up? No way, kid.” I reached for him, taking him in my arms, and the dimples got deeper. “Your mama is still cuter, and the dimples still aren’t doing shit for me.”
He reached for my necklace again and gripped it, his eyes brightening when I held him closer.
“You gotta be hungry and…” I felt his ass and flared my nostrils. I hadn’t done this kind of shit since Antonia and Dante were babies. “Fine,” I told him, moving to the foot of the bed to find the pack of diapers and wipes to change him. “Listen to me, kid. I got a certain reputation, you understand?”
He pulled on his foot, muttering gibberish that only he seemed to get.
“I can’t have you telling everybody you got Smoke Carelli to wipe your ass. You get me?”
Mateo grinned, not fighting me as I changed him.
I pulled his leg back into the weird-looking PJs Maggie had him in. I was sure I missed a few buttons. I didn’t have a clue what to do with a shitty diaper, so I left it wrapped up on the bed, and brought the kid with me into the kitchen.
“That,” I told the kid, pointing to the tree and the gifts in the living room Dino and the boys laid out sometime last night, “is why you maintain a good rep. So your boys stay loyal and do good work.”
“He’s a little young for career advice.”
I turned, catching sight of a sleepy-looking Maggie as she stepped out of the hallway and finished a yawn. “Nah. Just a little friendly guidance.” Her eyes closed as she grinned to herself before she blinked, bringing her attention straight to me in the kitchen, holding her boy.
Fuck, she looked good, all rumpled from the bed, her cheeks pink and skin glowing, like all she needed was a good orgasm and a long night’s sleep on a decent mattress.
She must have found my stash of Yankees gear because she was wearing an oversized jersey that buttoned up, the solid blue one I’d worn helping Antonia move.
