“I’m fat? Good one, dude. This ass is juicy, not fat.” She punctuates her words by smacking a hand off the side of her butt, which sends a rush of blood straight to my dick, something that just should not happen when one is wearing shorts as tight as mine. “And my tits are outstanding.” She smacks both of her breasts from underneath, one after the other, in rapid succession, making them jiggle deliciously.
I press my fist to my lips to fight back a groan. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on her body.
She’s right, she’s not fat. But she is curvy, and I am one hundred percent certain that her curves will fit perfectly in my hands. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure those curves were made for my hands. And I can’t wait until I get to prove myself right.
“That guy is an idiot,” I say, turning away so she doesn’t see the effect she’s having on me. “You’re gorgeous.”
I expect the compliment to throw her off, maybe bring a little of that cute pink back to her cheeks, but instead she turns a glare on me. “No one said I wasn’t gorgeous, Nick. The guy said I was fat. Fat and gorgeous are not mutually exclusive, you know. Women can be fat, thin, gorgeous, ugly, and any combination of those descriptors or a million others. And you know what else?” She takes a step closer and jabs her finger into my chest. “None of that shit matters, anyway. What really matters is what a person is like on the inside, and that guy?” She jerks a thumb in the direction Stephen went when he left in a huff. “That guy’s insides are hideous.”
She busies herself with unpacking the rest of the food, cutting off that conversation cleanly. “I assume you have dishes. Can you show me where they are so your crew can start dishing up?They look like they’re about to stage a revolt.” Her head tips back to the door behind her, where a group of hungry looking trainers and a few seniors who stayed behind despite Stephen’s threat linger. “You should probably get going, too, if you want to make it to the hospital before visiting hours are over.”
I catch myself grinning again. Can this woman be any more thoughtful? First, she graciously made all this food at the last minute to help me out after I messed up, and now she’s reminding me to get to the hospital so I can visit Jared. Not that visiting hours would stop me. I’m the closest thing Jared has to a parent right now, and I take that responsibility seriously.
“You’re right. I should get going. Hey, Demetrius? Can you lock up after this? I’m heading out to see Jared.”
Demetrius isn’t with the group waiting patiently for plates and it takes a moment before I spot him sitting at the head of the table, hunched over a plate of lasagna. He’s shoveling it into his mouth like someone’s trying to steal it.
“Dude, seriously?” I ask with a laugh. “You couldn’t show everyone else where the plates were before you sat down to eat?”
Tina laughs when Demetrius hunkers down further and pulls his plate closer. I’m pretty sure he snarls.
“Don’t worry, Demetrius,” she says. “There is more than enough food for everyone. My mother would die if she heard someone I cooked for went hungry. I brought enough to feed you all three times over.”
Demetrius shoves the last bite into his mouth and finally relaxes his grip on the plate, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. He swallows and says with a grin. “I knew I wanted to marry you for a reason.”
Tina’s answering laugh is a beautiful, tinkling thing, and it makes my stomach fall to my feet.Am I too late? Is she interested in Demetrius?
I Peed Myself A Little
Tina
Nick seemed angry whenhe walked me to my car and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Did I do something wrong? Did I go too far when I gave that bus driver shit? Damn it. Men are so strange.
There’s something else I’m even more curious about than Nick’s sudden change of mood. I don’t know why Demetrius was eating like a starving dog, but he didn’t need to worry. I wasn’t kidding when I said my mom would flip if she heard I didn’t bring enough food for people I’d promised to feed. Never mind that, it’s literally my job to make sure people have enough to eat. The shame my mother would experience at hearing aboutme not having enough food would destroy her, because she taught me better. Frankly, it would destroy me, too.
Growing up in what I assume was a typical Italian neighborhood, my mother drilled it into us kids how important it was to make sure everyone got enough to eat. That stereotype of Italian Nonnas plying people with seconds and thirds could have originated with my family. But it was never about force feeding anyone. It was always about making sure everyone in the neighborhood was looked after. No matter what happened, you could count on having a hot meal at almost any house on the street, and that included mine.
I run my restaurant the same way. Sure, it’s not the most profitable business model, but if it’s not good for my bank account, at least it’s good for my soul. I’d rather have integrity than money any day.
I pull my car into my spot behind the restaurant and walk around to the stairs leading to my apartment. A quick peek at the restaurant window shows Chloe has indeed changed the painting again, a sure sign of another slow night. Thank goodness for Nick and his poor planning skills. The money he’ll pay me for the next few days of catering will go a long way. Maybe he’ll want to make it a regular thing? I don’t know how often he hosts these retreats, but catering them could be the thing I need to get Wings and Pizza out of this slump we’ve been in. At the very least, it will get the word out. I’ve never put much thought into advertising, and it shows. That woman at Nick’s gym didn’t even understand the walk-up window.
It must be a common misunderstanding in Tuft Swallow, too. The only person who ever orders from the walk-up window is Wade Biddescombe, and he hardly counts. As the realtor who’s renting me the place, he has a vested interest in the success of my business. If it weren’t for Wade, I’d have no customers at all some days. Who would have guessed the mobster who usedto show up in my neighborhood from time to time, the man all us kids called Uncle Gianni, would one day be my personal hero?
Not that I’ve ever let on that I know who he is, and he’s never confirmed that he recognizes me, but that doesn’t matter. I know it’s him. Whatever brought him here, whatever made him change his name from Gianni to Wade, well, that’s none of my business. He looks out for me by keeping the rent low and ordering enough food to keep my business afloat, and I look out for him by paying my rent on time and keeping his secret. I think that’s a fair trade.
But if this thing with Nick becomes a regular gig, maybe I can do more than keep my head above water. It’s something worth exploring, anyway.
My mind flashes to an image of Nick this evening, in his tight shorts and nothing else, and I can think of another thing I might like to explore. That man is the most perfect combination of muscle and fluff I’ve ever seen. People assume all women want a man like Demetrius, all hard angles with muscles that make it look like he’s been cut from marble, when the truth is many women, like me, would be happier with a bigger man. A man with a little meat on his bones. A man who looks like he could rock your world in the bedroom and then cuddle the heck out of you for hours afterward. I can almost picture him hovering over me, looking down at me with lust-filled eyes, teasing me, ready to thrust into me and... Yeah, I wouldn’t mind finding out if Nick is that kind of man, not at all. Not if the throbbing in my lady parts is anything to go by.
But that’s a thought best saved for another day. I need to get back to the restaurant so Chloe can go home. If she’s lucky, maybe she can convince her date to reschedule. First, though, I need to change my underwear. That brief fantasy of Nick aboveme has caused some serious flooding in my panties. If anything makes working long hours unbearable, it’s wet undergarments.
The steps up the outside of the building to my apartment are dark, making it hard to pick out my steps. That’s odd. I never turn that off. I guess the light must’ve finally burned out. After at least five years using the same light bulb, that makes sense. Even the best LED bulb on the market won’t last forever, and I don’t know how long that one had been there before I moved in. I’ll see if Wade will help me change it tomorrow. He will be around at some point. His presence is the one thing I’ve been able to count on since I’ve moved here. For a former mobster, the guy is an excellent landlord.
My door swings open with a gentle touch, and I step into my tiny living room, shuck my shoes on the mat that serves as my entryway, and take the four steps to my bedroom. Tiny house living has nothing on this apartment. The only difference is my bed is in a tiny bedroom instead of a loft.
I reach out to flick the lights on so I can see what I’m doing, but the moment I do, an icy coldsomethinggrips my wrist, and I freeze in terror. You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes in times of extreme danger or physical stress? All I saw was pizza. And maybe a little Nick, but I’m sure that’s because I was already thinking about him.
A hoarse voice whispers a warning.“You’re not safe here.”
