It didn’t seem all that bad to me but I’m betting she is feeding off a long history of bad memories. “Sugar, if you can shoot a weapon, you can do this.”
“Right. Bring it on.”
She clicks the speaker back on as her mom shouts, “Too fast.”
A virtual fork in the air, Nonna argues. “Presto.”
“Ignore them. What you’re doing is perfect.” I put the dough in a bowl, cover it, and stick it in the fridge.
“Wait. You’ve done this before?” She stares incredulously at me and I wink.
“I’m a man of many talents.” In truth, I haven’t but I found some footage online and have been using it as a reference.
Apparently, we’re the proud owners of a new pasta machine. After unpacking it, I read the directions and attach it to the table’s edge.
“Good.” Nonna applauds with a wrinkled smile. “Riposa.”
“What does that mean?”
Sam, studying my phone, glances up as she interprets. “Rest, sleep, to let die.”
“Is she referring to you or the dough?” I snicker and Sam pokes me with a spoon.
“Not funny.” Leaning over she ends the meeting then types into the chat window.We’re having technical difficulties. I’ll have to call you back.
Then, she drops into a chair and pours herself a large glass of wine, and gulps. “Oh, my fucking God.”
With my thumb under her chin, I left her lips for a kiss. “Traumatized for life?”
“Uh-huh. Doomed to fast-food.”
“Could be worse, could be snakes.” I grin, reminding her of the one time she insisted on attending a worship service with my family down south.
Her eyes twinkle and one side of her mouth lifts. “I could suggest we add serpents to Bingo night.”
“Or perhaps, you and I could let a few loose in the choir loft.”
“Can you imagine?” She snickers. “Seriously, though. How do they train snakes to only bite sinners? I mean, think about it logically. The snake was the tempter in the Garden of Eden. Seems to me he’d poison the saints, not the other way around.”
“I’ll give you the pastor’s number. Maybe he can explain it to you.”
“Maybe I will.” Giggling, she stands, opens the fridge, and takes a peek at the dough. “Why do you get to rest? I did all the work.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sam
With his black clothes ghosted with white flour, Suds looks down and grimaces. “Next time, we cook naked.”
“Why wait?” Imagining sex while the pasta rests, I place a heated kiss on his lips but his response is cool.
Dammit.Rubbing my hands together, I form a ball of dough and stick it on his nose. “Perfetto.”
My grin fades when he removes it from his face and sticks it down my shirt. Then, as I reach to remove the stickiness from my cleavage, he holds my wrists.
“Say uncle.”
“No way.” I twist in his grasp, bend an elbow, and… oh shit. Catrina jumps on the table and noses my mother’s favorite bowl off the edge.
