“What are you doing?” he hisses at them. “Go back inside.”
“Evening,” I say lightly.
His mother pulls me into a hug. Then she makes me lower my head so she can smack kisses onto my cheeks and pinch them. Her fingers grip me with the strength of power tools.
Antonio’s father levels me with a solemn stare. I think he aims for intimidation, but he’s half my size and his eyes are very kind.
“Bring my boy back safely,” he says, crossing his arms. He narrows his eyes and adds, “Before midnight.”
“I’m twenty!” Antonio splutters.
“Yes, sir,” I say politely, doing my best to appear intimidated.
I ignore Antonio’s heated glare.
“I promise I’ll take good care of him.”
Antonio opens his mouth, then closes it, scandalized.
We walk toward my car, and I open the passenger door for him.
His mother waves from the porch.
“Have fun, boys! Drive safely!”
Muttering to himself about “getting betrayed by family,” Antonio slides in and buckles his seatbelt.
A curl falls across his forehead, and I want to tuck it behind his ear. Instead, I allow myself half a second of admiring how beautiful he is until I close his door, walk around the car in a daze, and get in.
Nothing in my life has ever felt more right.
CHAPTER 40 – ANTONIO
“Sorry about that,” I say, the memory of Mom’s vice-like grip on Caspian’scheeks burning into my brain.
Caspian’s smile is warm. “Your parents seem wonderful.”
“They are, but Mom has a prospect book.” I grimace. Why did I bring that up? It makes my family sound like a cult.
“A prospect book?” His eyes crinkle in amusement. “What’s that?”
“It’s a—a boyfriend list Mom keeps,” I mumble.
Caspian gives me a look that I feel low in my stomach.
I fidget with the charms in my bracelet. “A few weeks ago I went on a date with a guy who owns a tarantula. I hate spiders.”
Why am I still talking?
His forearm shifts on the steering wheel and my brain shuts down. The sleeve of his shirt rides up just enough to show muscle I absolutely can’t deal with. He must work out a lot. Arms like that don’t just happen. They’re built. Earned. Used. My thoughts slide somewhere dangerous when I think about him using those muscles. I wonder if his abs are equally unfair. I want to see them.
His hands tighten slightly on the wheel as he turns. They look so capable and steady. I imagine them on my body, and immediately regret having an imagination. Then I realize he’s looking at me.
I snap my gaze away, blushing so hard my ears would probably glow in the dark. My face couldn’t get more obvious if it tried.
“Spider-Man excluded, have you liked any of the prospects?” he asks, his voice low and slightly teasing.
“I’ve always liked the part when I get to go home.”
