My smile grew. “I’m old, aren't I?”
Mortification had her gasping. “You heard that?”
“Your sister’s voice projects.”
“Inever said you were old,” she wailed.
“No. You said I was hot.” I snagged a hold of her hand but kept the tangled knot loose so she could break free if she chose to. “I’m messing with you. If you don’t mind being seen with my old ass?—”
“Hot ass,” she burst out, making me snicker.
“—then I’d like to be seen with yourhot asstoo.”
“It’s very hot. Too hot.” Kitty huffed. “I think you make me stupid.”
“I don’t think you’re ever stupid.”
Her fingers tightened around mine. “I know how old you are. Y-Your file at the hospital…”
“And I know that you’re a lot younger than me, Kitty. Is that a problem?”
“No. No problem.”
“You normally date guys your own age?”
“Late twenties?”
I let my smile grow once more. “Well, I guess you’re going to learn the difference between fucking around with boys and then switching to a man,bedda mia.”
FOURTEEN
KITTY
That I passed out was a given considering how many travel sickness pills I’d taken to get me through the whole flight.
That I passed out next to the sexiest man I’d ever met was mortifying.
That I passed out and woke up with a drool spot on the pillow that he had to have tucked behind my head—shoot me now.
And that I nearly choked on my orange juice when Stan had told me I was about to experience what it felt like fucking around with a man instead ofboysproved that Goddidexist—he decided to knock me out to spare me from eye-fucking Stan the entire flight.
There was only so much mortification a woman could handle while sitting beside a literal Adonis.
When Ma insisted that Jesus would save me, I hadn’t expected such affirmative action.
“Kitty.”
His voice was my alarm bell as I slowly rose through the layers of chemically-induced slumber.
My eyelashes fluttered when I took him in, absorbed that piercingexpression, those dark eyes—I felt pinned in place. Raked over hot coals as he devoured me with a single look.
He had the face and stature of a bruiser. Having been raised in my family, it was far from a detractor. If anything, it added to the pinching sensation that made an appearance in my stomach around him. See, muscles and brute strength in my world meant protection.
And apparently, my inner mob brat really dug that.
“Stan.”
He had ridiculously long lashes. Unfairly long.
