Maggie
Smoke Carelli was a dangerous man. I knew that the second he tapped on my window and our gazes locked.
It was in his eyes—those dark, rich eyes of his that could cut right through you. Hard as steel when he had you at a distance. In a split second, they shifted to warm and sweet when he had his guard down, which I suspected didn’t happen a lot.
But as I walked into the dining room not ten minutes ago, spotted Smoke holding Mateo, and saw that kind, protective look in his eyes, something inside me melted.
Smoke was dangerous all right, but I was the one at the greatest risk. It wouldn’t be hard for me to fall completely for that beautiful man.
Mateo hadn’t had many men watch over him, not since Alejandro chose lines of white powder and a dripping, wet needle over his family.
For some reason, my son had taken to Smoke like he knew the man wasn’t the brooding threat I suspected him to be outside on the snowy sidewalk.
“Maggie, eat,” I heard from across the table. I forced a smile on my face when Smoke’s sister Antonia waved her glass at my still-full plate. “If you don’t, Mama or Maria will be by to fill it again.”
“I couldn’t eat another bite.” My stomach was so full, and I’d spent the past twenty minutes pushing the delicious food around, trying to make it look like I’d eaten more.
It had taken everything in me to try to finish the plate the server set in front of me, then Smoke’s mama directed the woman to give me more before I’d finished half of what I’d already been served.
“Better not say that too loud,” Dario, Smoke’s brother, said, leaning on his elbow next to me. He sat on my right with Smoke on my left. My senses were on overload with the attention both men were giving me. “Mama will run down here to spoon-feed you if she thinks you’re too skinny.”
“She hasn’t left you alone much,” I remarked, nodding toward their mother as she moved back toward our end of the table.
“Dario, my love,” Mrs. Carelli said, resting her hands on her son’s shoulders. “Did you get enough? You should eat more. When I think of the food they made you eat…” She squeezed her eyes tight like the ideas she had about Dario’s five-year stint in Riker’s was a nightmare she wouldn’t allow herself to think about on Christmas Eve.
“Mama, I got enough,” he told her. “I promise.” Dario grabbed his mother’s hand, squeezing it before he winked at me and threw me under the bus. “But Maggie doesn’t look like she’s going to finish this plate.”
“What?” Mrs. Carelli jerked her attention to my face, then her gaze dropped to my filled plate. “You don’t like it?”
“Mama,” Smoke said, stretching his arm over the back of my chair again. “Dario is starting shit. That’s Maggie’s second plate, and you keep trying to feed her.”
“She’s a nursing mother—”
“Mrs. Carelli,” I tried, worried I’d offended her, making sure I leveled a quick glare at Dario before I turned to look at her fully. “Honestly, it’s all so delicious…”
“Mama, she ate plenty,” Dario said, shrugging with a half apology I wasn’t sure I bought. “I was just messing with her. You know…it’s been a long time since I’ve been around a pretty girl.”
Instantly, my face heated and the irritation at his teasing vanished. Like his brother, Dario was handsome, tall, maybe a little less refined. Definitely rougher around the edges, but I’d been around enough people who’d served time to know that was what happened when you went away.
Sometimes, it made them awkward. Still other times, it made them very out of practice, like Dario was now. He seemed happy to be with his family, but it had taken four drinks for him to get there.
Now, he was comfortable enough to flirt, and I couldn’t say I hated it. Couldn’t say I hated Smoke’s reaction to his brother’s mild flirting either.
“Too long,” Smoke said, leaning forward to glare at his brother. “Why don’t you try to find another one?” He nodded down the table, motioning to a group of women with their heads together as they looked down the table at Dario and Smoke. “Seems like they’re more interested.”
“Why?” Dario asked, holding his glass in his hands, the grip loosening as he moved closer. “You afraid of a little competition?”
Oh. My. God.
“Not even if there was any. Which there isn’t.”
“You sure about that, big brother?”
Smoke laughed, his features hard. “Bring it on, asshole.”
I blinked, shocked by their words.
“Basta!” I heard Mrs. Carelli say, then frowned as both Dario and Smoke flinched, cupping their ears. “On Christmas Eve?Madonna Santa!”
