Even underneath the pie mask, I noticed the way Scarlett’s eyes widened.
Mariano started laughing so hard, he doubled over, trying to catch his breath. Marciano was doing the same, but he was goading at the same time by wiping his Mamma’s face.
“Mia,” Marciano said, cleaning Scarlett up, but laughing raspy and low. “How could you do this to Mamma? Your arms have turned into spaghettiand your aim reflects it.”
Mia said she was peeing herself. She was screeching so loud. Brando and Saverio came rushing into the kitchen, and I was not sure what came over me, but I hit them both with the spray. It was almost automatic. A hit first before being hit.
Brando checked his wife before his eyes narrowed on me.
Damn.
The man’s shirt was clinging to every muscle he had, and I could not help but find my husband in his face. A model’s face. A perfect face, except he was as rugged as Mariano, which somehow tipped the scale when it came them being…I was not sure how to exactly explain it. Too gorgeous? None of them would walk a runway, but…they were made for it.
I lifted my hands, and the spray hit him again, making his shirt cling to him harder. Making an apologetic face, I said, “Ooopsie. So sorry.”
The next thing I knew, turning-brown lettuce was being flung at us. Scarlett. She had a good arm.
Thinking back on it made me laugh quietly, and Mariano grinned, as if he knew what memory I was recalling.
What came after was a feeling that warmed me as much as the sip of whiskey had. Mia, lettuce still in her hair, Saverio attempting to pick it out, pulled me in for a hard hug. She told me I was the sister of her heart.
“You have done the almost impossible,” she whispered in Italian—right into my ear, making me shiver. Her conviction was as strong as any of her brothers. “You turned my brother from a racing man to a settled one. All that time…we thought he was out of control, but his heart had always been racing toward yours. You have done what Mamma did for Papà. You gave my brother a home—hishome. He can breathe now. You heal him.”
We hugged, rocking back and forth, and after they had gone, Mariano wrapped me in his arms, kissing me all over the face, then picked me up and took me into our bedroom. I had brought up the idea of telling them we were married. I wanted them to know. He only shook his head, telling me the time for that would come, and then took my nipple in his mouth. I did not remember much of a conversation after that.
Mariano clicked his tongue, bringing me out of my reflections. The black stallion he had connected with turned its eyes up and looked at him. The stallion was grazing, and every so often, he would walk around the mare he had claimed as his. She was pure white, reminding me of a snowflake. I sighed again, and this time, Mariano held me closer. I still did not feel comfortable with horses. I could still feel the shock of my bodyhitting the ground when the horse I was riding rejected me, then took a bite out of me.
Because apparently, I smell like apples, even when I am not trying to.
Mariano nibbled at me, and my shoulders came up to my ears. He laughed, breathy and raspy.
The grin on my face stuck as I recalled the day when Mariano had taken his Mamma out riding. She was as good as he was. She did not have any fear as she mounted the horse and took off, faster than Mariano had. He took off after her, and she laughed as he tried to catch up.
Mariano felt comfortable leaving me. His father was keeping me company. Brando Fausti was a quiet man with intense eyes. As we watched them ride off, I sighed. In one way, I felt as if I needed to say something to him, but in another, silence suited him, and perhaps I did not have to say anything.
“Perhaps…” I started, but I did not know what else to say.
His eyes slowly turned to mine. “Perhaps,” he said.
I resorted to Italian. “Sì. Forse.”
I did not expect it, but when it happened, I had to squeeze the railing of the fence so I would not collapse. My knees went weak.
Brando Fausti had grinned at me.
It was not a sight I saw often from him. His daughter and sons smiled much easier than he did. Each time, it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds after an eternal darkness. When Brando Fausti even grinned, it was as if the sun had broken through the darkness after a terrible storm that felt eternal.
My breath caught.
His eyes swung to mine. “You all right?”
“Sì.” I breathed. Realizing what a force his children were. A famous ballerina as their mother. This man as their father. I cleared my throat. “You do not like horses?”
“I don’t mind them,” he said. “I just don’t care for their teeth.”
This took me off guard. I exploded with laughter, and his thick eyebrows shot up. It was such a Mariano face. I told him so.
He grinned at me again.
