by Laura Lee
“Ugh, I’m so hungry,” Rainey complains.
Brody kisses her on the cheek. “We have been working up quite the appetite lately.”
She playfully smacks his arm. “Cool it on the s-e-x talk. There’s a child in the vicinity.”
“What’s s-e-x?” Nathan asks.
Rainey gets an oh shit look on her face. “That sounds like a great question for your mom and dad, sweetie.”
Devyn rolls her eyes. “Thanks a lot, Lorraine.” She turns to Nathan. “Honey, we’ll talk about it when you’re a little older.”
“Aw, Mom,” Nate whines.
I mess up his hair. “Don’t worry, dude. Trust me, you’ll have plenty of time to think about it and talk about it later.”
Devyn sticks her tongue out at me. “Not helping, Drew.”
I shrug. “What? It’s true. The little guy’s already off to a good start playing with his schlong all the time.”
“What’s a schlong?” Nathan asks.
Oops.
“DREW!” Devyn shouts.
“What is it, Mommy?”
She sighs. “He’s talking about your penis, honey.”
Nathan giggles. “My penis is funny. It’s all squishy and stuff. But then sometimes it sticks up.”
Everyone laughs at that one. My nephew is never light on entertainment, that’s for sure. Especially since he became obsessed with the good ol’ pork n’ beans. What can I say? Guys are fascinated by their junk. And if I’m being honest, we never really outgrow that. We just learn to censor ourselves better as we get older.
Devyn hangs her face in her hands. “I’m fighting a losing battle, aren’t I?”
Riley pulls her into a side hug and kisses her temple. “Pretty much.”
Devyn looks toward Rainey. “You’d better be having a girl. There is way too much testosterone in this bunch.”
Rainey laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Have you guys told your parents yet?” Devyn asks.
Brody shakes his head. “We’ve told hers but not mine.”
I shift in his direction. “Why not?”
“Because he’s scared of his mommy,” Rainey offers.
Brody flashes her a glare. “I’m not scared.”
“Yes, you are,” she insists.
He throws his hands up. “Okay, fine. I’m afraid of her. That woman is terrifying when she wants to be.”
Everyone at the table gives Brody shit for that one. Except me, because I can’t stop wondering what she’d do if she found out that I secretly married her daughter.
“Do you really think she’d freak out?” Riley asks.
Brody finishes chewing. “Once I tell her that we’re waiting to get married until after the baby’s born, yeah, I do. She’s so fuc...uh, fudging traditional sometimes.”
I smirk at his near slip-up. “She’s bound to find out soon enough. You’re better off just telling her before Rainey starts showing.”
“Nuh uh,” Brody replies. “To be honest, I’m kind of hoping that Charlee or my dad will do something monumentally stupid. She’d be so focused on that, that it would take the heat off of us. The odds of that happening though are slim to none.”
Eh...I’d say those odds are much better than you think.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHARLEE
My mother once told me, “The simpler the dish, the more obvious the mistake.” I didn’t really understand it at the time, but as I grew older and more experienced in the kitchen, it sank in. Take eggs for example. There are countless ways to prepare them. Scrambled, fried, poached, boiled, so on and so forth. Whatever your choice, your cooking skills—or lack thereof—will be painfully obvious. If you forget that an omelet finishes cooking on the plate, it will be overdone. If you don’t position the spatula just right when flipping a fried egg, the yolk will break. If you skip the ice bath after removing a hard-boiled egg from the pot, the fluffy yellow center will be circled with gray. Details matter. Presentation matters. The smallest action—or inaction—can make a huge difference on the final outcome.
That last part is what I’m hyper focused on each and every time I step foot into a kitchen. It’s why I do what I do so well. As I garnish each frittata wedge with some arugula and freshly grated parmesan, I step back to admire my handiwork.
“Perfetto.”
“You’re welcome to stay over anytime if I wake up to this every morning. Especially if you’re half naked and speaking in Italian.”
I jump a little as Drew startles me. “Shit! Why do you always sneak up on me?”
His laughter rumbles in my ear as he presses his chest to my back and wraps his strong arms around me. “Are you fluent?”
“Nah. I like to say I speak Italian-ish. Growing up, my mom often mixed Italian and English into the same sentence—still does, actually—so I learned what I know from reading the context.”
“Well, it’s sexy as hell.” He pauses a moment. “That food looks almost as delicious as you. What is it?”
“A frittata.” I stab the eggs with a fork and turn around to feed him a piece. “Your fridge was surprisingly well stocked.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “I like to eat.”
I chuckle. “So I’ve noticed.”
The last time I woke up next to Drew, I was hungover and in shock so I never got to appreciate how adorable he is first thing in the morning with his rumpled boxers, tousled hair, and sleepy lids. As his lips wrap around the tines, my skin tingles, remembering how that mouth felt floating over my bare skin last night. Drew chews slowly, looking at me as if he can read my mind. His gaze is filled with so much heat that I drop the fork the moment he swallows and lunge for him. He lifts me with no hesitation and pulls my legs around his waist as he carries me out of the kitchen.
He breaks away from my mouth. “The eggs are incredible but I’d rather eat you for breakfast.”
My eyes roll back as he bites the delicate skin where my neck meets my shoulder. “Fuck the eggs.”
Drew chuckles as he sets me on the edge of the dining table and raises my arms. “You look hot as fuck in my t-shirt, Charlee, but I need you naked right now.”
He lifts the shirt over my head. I squirm as his lips travel over each area of newly exposed skin until my bare back is resting against the wood.
“How sturdy is this table?”
Drew drops to his knees and hooks my legs over his shoulders. “Sturdy enough.” I didn’t bother with any panties this morning so there’s nothing stopping him from diving straight into my pussy.
My back bows. “Oh, fuck!”
He draws lazy circles around my clit while he teases my entrance with this finger. “You like that, baby?”
I can’t even form a coherent response as Drew devours me like I’m his last meal. I’m a tangle of screams and moans, and mind-numbing ecstasy. God, this man knows how to work my body over like no other. I never knew sex could be so intense. Feel so incredible. My senses are heightened the moment Drew touches me, like every nerve ending is a live wire. Right as I’m climbing to the point of no return, someone starts pounding on his front door.
“Who the hell is that?” I pant.
“Don’t care,” he mumbles into my hot flesh.
The knocking continues as he begins licking me again, followed by incessant ringing of the doorbell.
“C’mon, asshole, open up!”
Drew freezes the second he hears my brother’s voice. I scramble off the table in a panic.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I shout whisper.
Drew hangs his head. “Fuck, I totally forgot.”
“About what?”
He stands and adjusts himself through his boxers. “We were supposed to go golfing this morning.”
“Drew!” I throw my hands up. “You couldn’t have told me that last night so I would be gone by now?”
He gives me a wry look. “We were a little busy last night. It slipped my mind.”
Oh right. We were p
reoccupied with having all the sex. We never even got around to filling out the annulment paperwork.
The knocking is harder this time. “Dude, I saw your truck in the parking garage. I know you’re there.”
“Shit!” I start looking around for the discarded shirt but I don’t see it anywhere. “What if he saw my car, too?”
Drew looks toward the door. “Go in my bedroom and lock the door. I’ll get rid of him.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I practically sprint down the hall until I am safely ensconced in his room with my ear pressed to the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DREW
I wait until Charlee is hidden in the bedroom before answering the door.
“What the hell, douchebag?” Brody pushes his way into my house with Riley close behind. “What took you so long?”
I shut the door behind them. “Oh, please, come right in.”
Brody looks me over, taking in my disheveled state. “Why aren’t you dressed? Tee time is in half an hour.”
Riley is just standing there silently, taking in our surroundings. I watch as his eyes travel over the plated food in my kitchen, to my t-shirt on the floor under the table, before stopping on the chair that I knocked over in my haste to stick my face between my wife’s thighs.
“Did we interrupt something?” he asks.
I scrub my hand over my jaw. “Uh...yeah. I’ve been a little busy and golf completely slipped my mind.”
Brody’s eyes follow the path Riley’s had just taken. He leans closer to me, sniffs the air, and smirks. “Is that why you smell like pussy?”
I start choking on my own damn saliva. “No, I don’t.”
Brody barks out a laugh. “Right, buddy. Do you think I don’t know what pussy smells like? It’s my favorite perfume in the whole wide world.”
Riley’s laughter dies as he catches sight of Charlee’s hot pink purse dangling from the hook in my foyer. Fuck. I hope Brody wasn’t paying attention when my sister was gushing over how much she loved that thing in Vegas. It’s pretty obvious Riley knows exactly who its owner is.
Brody walks into the kitchen and helps himself to a bite of the frittata. He groans when he tastes how fucking delicious it is. “This tastes almost exactly like my mom’s frittatas. Damn, whoever this chick is, she knows her way around a kitchen.”
“How do you know I didn’t make it?”
Brody scoffs. “Right.”
Riley shakes his head in disbelief, probably realizing that Brody will figure shit out if he stays here much longer. “C’mon, dude, let’s take off. I’m sure Drew won’t mind if we go without him, all things considered.”
“Nope. Not at all.”
Brody shovels another bite into his mouth. “Soooo good.”
Riley pulls him by the back of his shirt. “Brody, we’re going to be late.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brody mutters. He points to me. “Don’t think I won’t be hounding you for details later.”
I open the door, hoping to get him out of here faster. “Have fun, you guys.”
Brody laughs. “Yeah, you too, buddy.”
I turn the locks the second the door is closed and heave a sigh of relief. I make my way down the hallway and knock on my bedroom door. “They’re gone.”
Charlee opens the door, wearing another one of my shirts, with eyes as wide as saucers. “I couldn’t hear everything. What happened?”
I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s just say that was a really close call. I thought we were fucked when he started eating the eggs and made some comment about your mom’s cooking. Riley knows, no doubt. He recognized your purse.”
The mattress bounces when she plops down beside me. “Shit.”
I turn toward her and brush some hair behind her ear. “That was probably a sign that we should nix the whole, take advantage of our marriage while it’s legally binding plan.”
She nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I swipe my thumb over her plump bottom lip. When I get to the middle, her teeth snake out and press down on my nail, right before she takes the entire thing into her mouth and sucks like it’s the best motherfucking lollipop in existence. My dick instantly salutes her, ready for action.
“Maybe one more time for the road,” I suggest.
She releases my thumb and straddles my lap. “That’s an excellent idea.”
There’s no way in hell once more will ever be enough but I worship Charlee’s body like it’s my last chance, just in case.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHARLEE
“Carlotta, what’s on your mind?”
I finish buttoning my chef whites as I face my boss, Mrs. Pistorio. She and her husband opened Pistorio’s, the Italian restaurant where I work, over thirty years ago. I started as a hostess while I was in culinary school and Mama P quickly put me to work in the kitchen once she learned what I could do. The kitchen had been run by their family since day one, but as Mama P got older and couldn’t stand on her feet for too long, I took over as Head Chef. She says I’m like the daughter she’s never had and her sons are a bunch of useless chooches that she can’t trust with such responsibility.
“I’m okay,” I assure her. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Like what?” she asks.
So here’s my dilemma: Whenever I have a problem that needs hashing out, I go to my mom for advice. Yes, I’m thirty-one-years old and I shouldn’t need to go to my mommy, but she’s my best friend, as strange as that sounds. I don’t go a single day without talking to her and I have breakfast with my parents almost every week. She’s tough as nails and can be a little overbearing at times, but she’s also an incredible listener and she actually has a really great sense of humor when she’s not too busy busting your balls. Mama P reminds me a lot of my mom, though she’s slightly less intimidating. Obviously I can’t tell my parents or my brother about the whole drunken wedding situation so if I’m going to solicit anyone’s advice, it would be hers.
I sigh. “You have to promise not to judge me for what I’m about to tell you.”
Thankfully, Mama P and I are the only ones here right now since she and I handle the prep on most nights. We don’t open for a few hours so the auxiliary staff hasn’t clocked in yet.
“I would never judge you,” she insists.
“Okay...so you know how I was in Vegas for that bachelorette party?”
“Sì.” She nods.
“Well, I kinda...sorta had a little too much to drink. A lot too much to drink, actually. And I did something I wouldn’t have done sober.”
Mama P arches her perfectly sculpted brows. “And that would be...?”
I wince. “I got married. To my brother’s best friend, Drew.”
She straightens her spine and gives me a toothy smile. “Well, that’s lovely dear. Congratulazioni.”
Huh? That’s the last reaction I was expecting.
I throw my hands up. “What do you mean, ‘Congratulations!’? That doesn’t really apply to this situation, Mrs. P.”
She frowns in confusion. “Why not? Marriage is a wonderful thing.”
“True...for some people anyway. But getting married while you’re completely blitzed isn’t exactly a smart thing to do.”
She shrugs. “Sometimes the heart recognizes its match before the head does. Love is a funny thing.”
“Love? I didn’t say anything about love.”
“Do you not love him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, I like him. A lot. And we’re really compatible...sexually. But I definitely don’t love him. I barely know him.”
“Joseph and I knew each other for one month before we married. And we were like newlyweds for the next forty-five years until he passed.” She makes the sign of the cross. “God rest his soul.”
I lean my hip against the stainless counter. “Mrs. P, no disrespect, but times were very different back then.”
She gives me an oh please gesture.
“Again, sometimes the heart recognizes its match before the head does. It doesn’t matter what the date on the calendar says, or how long you have known each other. Love is not always rational so stop trying to force it into some carefully constructed box. Carlotta, you’re a free spirit. You have zest with everything you do. You’ve never been a conformist. Why would you start now?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s complicated. Drew and Brody are like brothers. If Brody found out what happened...he’d be pissed and he’d take it out on Drew.”
Mama P’s lip twitches. “Well, technically speaking, they are brothers. In law.”
Did I mention that she can be a smartass?
“Not for long. We’re getting the marriage annulled.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Uh...because we got drunk and married in Vegas?”
“So? You got married for a reason. You owe it to yourselves to try.”
I sigh. “Regardless of whether or not anything happens with Drew, getting our marriage annulled is the right thing to do. Besides, my mother would kill me if I got married without her present. She was pissed enough when I told her that I didn’t want to get married in a church.”
Mama P rolls her eyes. “Your mamma will be fine. When all is said and done, she just wants her children to be happy. Even my boys, as stupido as they are sometimes, I love them and wish them much happiness.”
I chuckle. Her sons truly are idiots more often than not. I should know; one of them works in my kitchen and the other three wait tables.
“I guess you’re right.”
She tsks. “Of course I’m right. Let me ask you this. What’s the harm in spending more time with Drew and seeing if something’s there? Something more than physical.”
I already know there is. The question is, how much more? “We’d have to keep it quiet.”