Mauro approaches me before I reach him. “Bad news. Rain is coming so they’re covering up and heading out for the day.”
I look up at the sky, the dark clouds fast approaching. “This is what those spare days I put into the schedule are for. No worries.” I slide by him to go into the house.
His tools jiggle in the box so I know he’s two steps behind me.
“Just me and you today,” he says once we’re both in the house.
“I’m going to tackle the basement.”
“I was going to start the drywall, but maybe I should go down there with you.”
I laugh. “I can handle it myself.”
I head through the large living room to the dining room and kitchen. We’ll need to pick our paint colors soon. There is supposed to be a crew in here over the next few days to lay whatever drywall Mauro doesn’t get done. He’s been amazing at arranging the help. His men work all day with the strongest work ethic I’ve ever seen, never cutting a corner. Compared to my other projects, this one is going a thousand times smoother.
The wooden steps creak on my way down to the basement and I remind myself for not the first time that old houses make strange noises. Nothing to freak out about.
Grabbing my sketchpad to figure out how we’ll configure the basement, the fact that Mauro said he was going to kiss me outside lingers in the forefront of my mind.
I still don’t understand why he was so angry earlier, but maybe it’s better to just let it go unexplained.
An hour later, I’ve got my plans to go over with Mauro. When I step onto the top of the landing of the staircase I see that the sky appears even darker and angrier than earlier.
“A storm is definitely on its way.” I shut the back door, the cool rush of air igniting a cascade of goose bumps along my skin.
I turn to find Mauro there, his shirt stripped off, long forgotten on his toolbox. Sweat glistens off the curves and crevices of his muscular body.
Did I say I was cold? It’s suddenly like an oven in here. His hat is on backward which I’ve realized he only seems to wear when he’s working. It reminds me of the high school version of himself.
It takes me a second, but I realize that Snow Patrol is playing through a small Bluetooth speaker to his right.
The night from forever ago rushes back to me. This was the song playing on the radio when I drove him home.
I sit down on the dining room table we didn’t have the heart to remove and watch his corded forearms strain as he lifts a sheet of drywall. He really is a man’s man. So different than any other man I’ve dated. They were all good with their heads. Engineers, professors, accountants. Mauro holds more sex appeal than all of them put together.
His looks are what drew me in all those years ago. The cocky quarterback every girl wanted. An Adonis of a guy that all the girls dreamed of taming. Now years later, after getting to know him better, it’s clear that I never really knew him back then.
That night under the stars on that baseball field that I saw as a moment of bonding and trust on his part wasn’t. The man that’s standing in front of me now isn’t an unsure boy taking an opportunity when it presented itself. He’s so much more than a handsome face. He’s smart, considerate, and hard-working. I need to get my expectations back in check.
“The storm is going to be here any minute.” Mauro talks directly to the wall. “I’m trying to just finish this wall then we can head out.”
I pull my legs up to my chest and let a contented sigh out. This view coupled with the promise of being unable to do anything but lay in bed listening to the rain. Or reading a book. I love these lazy days.
“Do you like thunderstorms?” I ask, never letting an opportunity pass where I can get to know him.
He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. More just the steady rain than the thunder and lightning.” His answer is nonchalant so I don’t offer my own opinion and he doesn’t ask.
Finishing up the wall, he drops the X-acto knife in the bin and studies his work. “The crew I hired should be able to finish over the next few days. We’re really making progress.”
Whereas I’ve always done days of framing, followed by days of drywalling, followed by days of mudding and taping, Mauro decided on a different plan of attack. One where one group immediately follows the first and so on. I think it’s going to work well and it’ll definitely reduce our turnaround time on the house.
“You do good work, Bianco.” I nod at the wall.
He grabs his t-shirt drying the sweat from his face and tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. God, he’s gorgeous. Not a stray hair anywhere on his chest and I can’t help but want to run my tongue over the planes of his rippled abdomen.
“Can I ask you a question?” He takes a sip of his water.
“Sure.”
“Have you hooked up with my brother before?”
“Luca?” My mouth hangs open for a second before I begin laughing. “Absolutely not, no.”
Mauro doesn’t laugh nor does he smile. “Cristian?”
My mood sobers a bit with the realization that he’s serious. “No. Why would you ask me that?”
He tries to shrug it off, but I’m not letting this go. Is this the reason for his earlier anger?
“Mauro?”
“It’s stupid, but he seems almost protective of you when I talk about you to him.” He lifts the hat off his head with one hand and the fingers on his other, thread through his hair. “He’s really worried about me hurting you. When I asked him if I was stepping on his toes, he said no, but I know my brother well enough to know I’m missing something.”
His eyes bore into mine, asking me to clarify his brother’s reaction. My initial reaction is an inward celebration that he’s been talking to his brother about me. It’s all clapping and jumping around and happy times inside. But my head makes its way into the conversation and I know that now is the time. I need to fill in some of the blanks for him.
I pat the table next to me. “It’s time we had that talk.”
He slides up beside me on the table. As embarrassing as this is going to be, he has to know the truth before anything happens between us. His reaction will solidify whether I risk taking a chance on him or not.
19
Mauro
I slide up on the oak table I plan on redoing as a gift to whoever buys the house. The table deserves to have its beauty revealed. I think it’s Amish made which explains how it was able to stay in decent shape since its owners beat the shit out of their house.
Madison’s fidgeting scares me and I’m crossing my fingers that she didn’t have a one-night stand with my brother. Or some secret crush on him. Not that I think she did, but the two of them are definitely keeping something from me.
“So, you know how you’ve been hinting at us kissing?” she starts.
Her tone is back to heavy and somber. I hate it. Loathe it is more like it. I can easily figure out that whatever she has to tell me, she’s unsure how I’ll receive the news.
“Our first kiss would have been over and done with had you let me kiss you at the car.” I smile down at her, teasing, trying to purge the tension from the room.
She shoots me a soft smile and her cheeks color pink. I love pulling that reaction out of her and I can’t wait to have the opportunity to see her entire body flush in that same shade.
“That’s the thing,” she continues.
Her eyes focus in on her entwined hands. Just as I can’t stand the wait any longer, she swivels her body to face me. Her gaze shifts from her hands to my face. Gorgeous blue eyes filled with adoration pierce mine.
“We already had our first kiss.”
“What?” I scrunch my forehead in confusion.
“Back in high school.”
I wave my hand in the air to stop her before she continues. “Is this some joke you’re helping my brothers pull off?” It would be just like them to talk Madison into messing with my head just for a laugh.
She shakes her head, her teeth
biting down on her lower lip like she does when she’s nervous.
“No?” I ask, stunned.
“No.”
“How could I not remember kissing you?” I slide forward, taking her hands in mine.
Rain starts beating down on the house, and light inside is dim now from the dark and stormy skies. I can’t help but relate the storm to whatever story I’m about to hear because seconds ago I would’ve said I had a better chance of being struck by lightning than not remembering that I’d already kissed Madison at some point in my life.
“You were drunk,” she says.
“Were you?”
Please tell me she was and that maybe, just maybe she was able to remember it a little but not fully because if I kissed her when I was drunk, it probably means I did a piss poor job of it.
She shakes her head.
My eyes roll into the back of my head and I look anywhere but at her. Here I’ve been flirting with her based on the idea that we’d never been together in any way and now I find out that we’ve already kissed.
“Okay, give it to me. How much of an ass did I make of myself?” I squeeze her hands and her eyes find mine once more.
“You were a senior. I was a sophomore. It was at a bonfire party.” She pauses for a second and I think she’s testing me to see if I remember anything at all, but my memory is still a black hole.
With my silence, she continues.
She tells me about the party, finding me in the woods, driving me home, “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol playing on the radio, the slide in the park across the street from my parents’ house. Lastly, the outfield of the park I played Little League in.
“You were asking about God’s plan. Talking about how you wanted the trifecta. The career, the family, and the house. It was sweet. Then you asked if you could kiss me.”
A wistfulness fills her eyes as she recollects how she expected to see a shooting star. I wonder how many times her mind has drifted back to this memory of us? The same memory that was erased from mine because of alcohol. I feel an aching loss inside because of that that I can’t comprehend.
Her soft smile leaves her face and her shoulders tense. “My braces cut you.” She cringes, and for the first time her gaze shifts away from mine. “You were bleeding.”
Oh Jesus, what I could have said? It was high school, so I probably reacted like a rude asshole. Did I yell at her for cutting my lip? For all that is holy, please tell me no.
“You didn’t seem to care. You just touched your lip and told me like it was a fact.”
Thank God I wasn’t a complete jerk off. I’d better get to church on Sunday and ask for forgiveness.
“Then we stood up and you asked me if I wanted to swing.” She shrugs, but her eyes are welling with tears.
“Madison.” I sigh, my hand sliding up her arm, past her elbow, bypassing her shoulder, molding to her cheek. “I’m sorry I don’t remember.”
My heart squeezes over the fact that a moment that clearly meant so much to her wasn’t even a blip on my screen.
“Cristian showed up right after, you threw up in the trashcan, and he took you home.” A tear slips down her cheek. “As embarrassing as retelling this story is, you had to know before we move forward because we already had our first kiss, but I was the only one who remembered.”
“And Cristian, he knows?”
She shrugs. “I think he suspected. I actually think he thought we had sex at first.”
I hate that I have to ask her this question, but I need to know. “We didn’t though, right?”
Her face is beet red and she slides out from my hold, her feet hitting the floor. “No. I wasn’t that pathetic.” She begins throwing stuff into her bag. “Telling you was a really bad idea. I need to go. We should’ve kept this platonic. It’s not too late though. We just need to shift gears and forget all of this emotional stuff. Keep things uncomplicated.”
I hop off the table. Coming up behind her, I still her hand with mine and she pauses. “I didn’t mean the question as a bad thing. I hate the fact I don’t remember and I had to know what I’m up against.” I dip my head down into the crook of her neck, the strawberry scent of her shampoo intoxicating and arousing. “So I know what I need to do to make this right. Madison, I don’t want to go back to being just business partners. Not by a long shot.”
Her body loses the tension of a stretched rubber band. “It’s mortifying that I admired you from afar and you had no idea who I was.”
I ease her around to face me, but her eyes focus in on my chest. Placing my finger under her chin, I nudge her to look up into my eyes. The second our gazes lock, her shoulders relax and I swear she sinks into my body. “I’m sorry that I didn’t notice you in high school. All I can say is that I was a self-centered jerk, but I see you now Madison Kelly. In fact, you’re all I see.”
Both my hands cup her face and as badly as I want to lean in and kiss her right now, our second kiss needs to be special.
“Kiss me,” she asks, her chest heaving with breath, the hard points of her nipples pressing into my chest.
My head fights my heart as I wonder if there’s ever going to be a perfect time for us. She’s just put her heart out there for me. Trusting me for a second time and I don’t want to take advantage. I want her to know I’m in this.
My cock strains in my pants as our eyes swim together in a mix of hazy lust and need. I lick my lip in anticipation and when I can’t stand the building tension between us anymore, I lose all control of my body and my head dips, my heart winning the war.
She licks her lips, her fingers wrapping around my shoulders, rising on her tiptoes. Our eyes fall closed, our lips nearing one another and I can feel her breath on my face.
The tornado sirens blare outside and like a snap of the fingers, our moment is over.
Her eyes widen in fear. “Mauro,” she says my name with a soft plea.
“Basement.” I grab her hand and lead her through the kitchen, down the stairs.
Large hail pounds atop the half-completed roof.
We race downstairs, turning on the lights, but I know with the way the power lines in Chicago are, electricity will be the first thing to go.
“I’ll be right back.” I run back up the stairs.
“Hurry, Mauro.”
Grabbing the candles she had lit before, I find the one flashlight I have in my toolbox. Shutting the front door, I run back into the basement where Madison’s arms are crossed as her teeth nibble on her bottom lip.
“It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” I wrap her in my arms.
“I just hate storms like this.”
The sirens are still blaring. I don’t even remember the last time I heard them sound here. I was probably a young boy.
“It will pass. Tornados don’t hit Chicago.” I rub my hands over her chilled arms.
As we stand in the middle of the basement, her in my arms, her story from a decade ago runs through my mind while I try to gain a flicker of recollection, but nothing surfaces.
“I’m so sorry, Madison,” I whisper and she turns her head to peer up at me with those sweet blue eyes that could make me do just about anything for her.
Her hand caresses my cheek. “I made peace with it a long time ago.”
“Still. I just…I had you ten years ago and let you go.”
A smile plays on her lips. “Who said you had me?” Turning in my arms, she winds her arms around my neck. “Maybe I let you go.”
“You’re way too nice. You should be kicking me in the nuts right now.”
She laughs and her forehead falls to my chest. “Then I guess you’re lucky that I’m a people pleaser.”
The lights flicker once, twice before blackness surrounds us. “Hold on.” I turn on the flashlight and hand it to Madison.
Lighting the candles, I place them around the space and we sit down on a tarp that Madison had down here when she was working.
“Tell me about your parents.” I try to do anything to get her mind of
f of the storm looming overhead.
She looks off over my shoulder. “They’re divorced. My dad lives in Florida. My mom’s in Oregon. This is where everything fell apart.” She glances up at the ceiling. “My dad left and my mom lost herself for a year or so.”
I reach out for her knee, my thumb rubbing back and forth. I’ve never experienced the repercussion of divorce, but I’ve heard enough stories from friends to know how bad it can mess up someone’s belief in love after seeing their parents’ happily ever after fall apart.
“It was so many years ago and if you didn’t think I was a loser before, wait until you hear why I bought this house.” She lets a self-deprecating chuckle escape her lips.
“Hey, let’s get one thing clear, I never thought you were a loser.”
She smiles like she doesn’t really believe me. I mentally mark that down to prove her wrong.
“Reserve your judgment for a moment.”
She reaches out and rubs my shoulder. It’s a casual move, but one she’s never done before. And I enjoyed it way too much.
“I bought the house so that someone could build a happy life here. I wanted a family to love one another and for some other little girl to get the dream I didn’t.”
Nothing could’ve blown me away more than the words that just left her mouth. I’d actually been thinking she wanted revenge of some kind on the place, but it’s the opposite of that. And her reason speaks way too much for who she is. How thoughtful and kind she is right down to why she rehabs houses.
“What about the other houses?” I lean in and my arm rests behind her back. I want that kiss more than anything right now.
She locks eyes with me. “Same.” Her unsure voice continues. “I just want to build a place for families to love each other in, one that reflects on the outside, the love you can find inside. A home is so much more than wood and glass, carpet and stairs. It shelters and protects the people you love most in this world.”
“Madison?” I raise my hand to her cheek.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
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