by Addison Fox
Daphne hadn’t wanted lunch, her morning pancakes still sitting heavy in her stomach, but she did want to see her best friend, so they’d decided on an early afternoon meet up at Brew You. The crowd was steady, with most of the tables occupied by individuals with laptops and earbuds.
“Make light of this all you want. I’m upset.”
“Why?”
“Because he interfered with a police investigation.”
Jasmine emitted a loud, buzzer-like sound that made more than a few people turn around. “Nope. Try again.”
“He most certainly did interfere.”
“Because he talked to the other child involved in this whole affair thing that happened a million years ago?”
“Yes.”
“News flash, sweetie. You’re not investigating an affair. You’re investigating a break-in, which has nothing to do with this woman Landon and his brother went to visit.”
“Why are you going all lawyer on me?” Daphne blew out a loud breath. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m always on your side. Except when you’re acting like an ass.”
“I’m not—”
Jasmine squelched that one. “Yeah, you kind of are. So let’s now move into the second portion of our coffee date. The real question, to my mind, is why you are being an ass. Because that is so far from your usual MO, it’s not even funny.”
“He didn’t tell me. We were together all last night. Hell, I even had dinner with him and Fender and they both kept mum on it.”
“So now that you know, call him on it. Ask him why.”
And what, exactly was she supposed to say? It wasn’t his business she had gone to see Gretchen Reynolds on formal police business. But that was how she’d found about his visit to Harlow.
Did she compromise her investigation? Let him in on the details? Especially because it was more than obvious Gretchen was hiding something.
Of course, all those things were logical. Reasonable. And sound questions for her to ask, as the assigned detective to the case. But if she were honest with herself, Daphne knew none of them mattered. All that did matter was what she felt inside.
“He didn’t want me to know.”
“Or he’s embarrassed. Look at this from his side. Some woman he doesn’t know and doesn’t care about starts harassing his mother and churns up all these horrible feelings and memories. Those same feelings and memories appear to be tied to a break-in at his office which, my dear, lovely, bull-headed friend, you are determined to find answers to. Maybe the guy just wanted to do a little digging on his own.”
“But he had no right.”
“He had every right. And if you’re going to confront him on this you have to start there. Be mad he didn’t tell you, but be honest about it.”
“You’re not fair.”
“It’s not about fair. And it’s also not about winning, Daphne. It’s about figuring out this relationship that seems to mean a hell of a lot to you.”
Leave it to Jaz to hit the bulls-eye.
“I questioned his mother.” Daphne closed her eyes and let the confession spill out.
“Louisa?”
“No, his real mother.”
“Oh.” Jasmine’s eyes widened into large orbs before she narrowed them. “And what reason did you have for traipsing down that path? Especially when it’s clearly marked ‘no trespassing.’”
“I had to follow the angles. The woman’s got a past. What if she found out about her son’s business and decided to break in?”
“That’s even lamer than the last excuse.”
Daphne valued Jaz’s opinion. She always had and she always would. But the penetrating stare and expectant questions were enough to make her want to run for the hills. “You can get the judge-y look off your face.”
“And you can get your head out of your hot ass. What the hell are you doing messing around in that man’s past like that?”
“It felt wrong not to tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“That I talked to his mother.”
Jasmine flashed over from judgment to pity in the space of a breath. “You did not.”
“If I didn’t tell him it would be like it was too important.”
“You just said you can’t tell him about Reynolds because it’s your case. Why doesn’t the same count here?”
“Because his mother didn’t do anything. She’s clear of this.”
Amber McGee had always been clear of the breach at Landon’s office. It was Daphne who hadn’t been clear. She’d been the one to push her agenda—to poke and prod, using her case as an excuse—and it was about to bite her in the ass.
“Aww, Daph. What did you do?”
Seventeen
Landon balanced himself on the ladder and listened with half an ear to the conversation going on below. His offer to wire and string up the sound for the Rossis’ Fourth of July party had been offered freely, but three hours into the job he figured he’d been had.
Mama Rossi had welcomed him into the living room, handed him a huge box from Amazon and told him to “make it work.” He’d set up the system with no problem, but her continued instructions—given with all the finesse of a drill sergeant during basic training—had him climbing ladders, running up and down to the attic, and configuring a small command center on her iPad, then replicating it on her phone.
And he still hadn’t seen a single meatball.
His latest task—positioning a speaker unit under one of the house eaves—had him contorting his body into unnatural shapes to connect the damn thing.
“Look at those sexy legs.”
Landon glanced down to see Cade Rossi standing at the foot of the ladder. “Fuck you.”
“Be careful. My mother will hear you and put the curse on your relationship with my sister if she catches you talking that way.”
“I heard you use that word no fewer than ten times, and your mother was in earshot each and every time.”
“A, she cuffed me when no one was looking. B, she cuts me a break because I’m a cop. I’ve seen things.”
“Then fuck you twice.” Landon hollered it down, pleased when he got an admiring grin in return.
“You’re okay, McGee.”
“I’ll be better when I get my hands on a plate of your mother’s meatballs. That’s the going rate for audio-install slave labor.”
“You’ll get paid soon enough, young man.” Daphne’s mother slipped out of the house, her hands on her hips as she stared up at him. “And I heard the cursing. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“I do. And since she’s the one who taught me that gem, I figure it’s okay.”
“Cheeky.” Giavanna Rossi shook her head. “I like it. Now, you put that last screw in and then come down here. I’ve got your meatballs all set out.”
“You’ve got mine, too?” Cade asked, his eagerness hard to miss.
“When you finish helping your father set up the picnic tables you get yours. Until then, they’re for our guest only.”
“You put your guests to work like this?” Cade asked.
“Yes. Now go.”
Cade appeared to take the swat at his head in stride and wandered off toward what Landon assumed was the garage. The Rossis had a nice home, but he had no idea where they’d stored all the furnishings, grills, and other items needed to throw what he could assume was an extravaganza.
And an extravaganza it was sure to be.
The smells coming out of the kitchen had had his stomach growling since he’d arrived, and there had been a steady stream of work in and out of the house for the past three hours. Daphne had disappeared shortly after they’d arrived—put to work on some duty—so he didn’t even have her to bounce his questions off of.
He finished twisting in the last screw and then took a look over his handiwork. The speaker was hidden, but it would effectively broadcast the sound they wanted. It was a slick little system and, with the lack of wires, should last a bit lo
nger than whatever they’d been using in the past.
He’d also tested the pairing with the base unit that sat inside and confirmed it worked, allowing Mama Rossi to control the entire system from her iPad or phone whenever she wanted.
And after only a few short hours in her company, Landon knew Mama Rossi liked being in control.
Not that he blamed her. Even with all of her children grown, her home seemed like barely organized chaos. In the last three hours, he’d become reacquainted with all four of her sons, one of their wives, a few grandchildren, and a pack of cousins, neighbors, and famiglia, as Mr. Rossi had called them with a shake of his head.
It all made Landon realize just how much he valued quiet. While he loved them now, it had taken him some time to adjust to his mother’s Sunday dinners, the volume of people and conversation overwhelming at times. His mother had always understood that, and after a requisite period of socializing, she’d often let him go up to his room or return to a video game with his brothers.
Funny how the freedom to do that had actually given him a reason to try a bit harder at the dinners, staying to talk even after he’d been given the green light to leave. Glancing around now at the volume of chairs and tables set up in the Rossis’ backyard, he was grateful he’d honed the skill.
“Meatballs are getting cold. You coming down?”
The order snapped him out of his review of the backyard, and he climbed down the ladder, careful to position his feet rung by rung. He generally avoided the clumsy routine, long used to the size of his feet, but he wanted to step gingerly. If Cade Rossi was already giving him shit, he’d never hear the end of it if he ass-planted after falling down the ladder.
He wended his way through the back entrance of the house and on into the kitchen. The promised plate of meatballs sat on the table along with several hunks of fluffy Italian bread and a fresh beer.
“Wow, Mrs. Rossi. Thanks.”
She turned from the stove. “Thank you for your help. The music sounds wonderful, and I know my grandchildren will love the voice controls.”
Landon smiled at that as he tucked into his plate. She’d enjoyed the voice controls, too, ordering up a series of songs on the base unit from Frank Sinatra to Dean Martin to the soundtrack for Sex and the City. Dinah Washington played now, and the music complemented the meatballs and the warm smells that permeated the kitchen. If Landon closed his eyes, he could almost believe he’d fallen into a time warp.
Did people really live like this?
He knew it was somewhat hypocritical of him, seeing as how his mother had worked her ass off to make a normal life for him, Nick, and Fender, but even she hadn’t managed home-cooked meals every night and feasts built from scratch on the stove.
The nostalgic quality was charming, but he could imagine the life would be oppressive for a young girl who dreamed of catching bad guys and fighting for the underdog. Those choices weren’t compatible with standing at a stove all day, and it was easy to see where they’re would be friction points.
I want in, Landon. My whole life has been about being shut out. Diminished, somehow, because I’m not my brothers. Because I haven’t followed the right path. Because I have ambition or interests, or because I simply don’t want to follow some dumb set of expectations laid out for me at birth.
In his misery over her announcement that she’d contacted Amber, Landon had forgotten the details of what Daphne had spilled in the heat of their fight. Now that he’d had time to cool—and seen the added context of what she came from—her words made a certain sort of sense.
She was loved—that he didn’t doubt—but she wasn’t understood.
“You enjoying the meatballs?”
“Yes, very much. They’re delicious.”
“You’re enjoying my daughter, too.”
The conversation was so reminiscent of their discussion a few days before at Stewey’s that Landon couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I enjoy your daughter’s company very much.”
I might even love her.
“She’s quick to give her heart. Especially in situations when it bleeds.”
Landon stared hard at Mrs. Rossi’s back, but she remained facing the stove, endlessly stirring whatever she had in the pot.
“I’m not sure why her heart would need to bleed with me.”
Mrs. Rossi did turn around at that. “Don’t you?”
“If you have a point, why don’t you come out with it?”
“My daughter deserves a man who will give her his whole heart. Not pieces. And not the parts that are convenient or easy.” She laid the wooden spoon over the edge of her pot and wiped her hands on her apron as she walked over and took a seat.
The warm hand that reached out and gripped his was strong and gentle all at once. “She thinks I don’t see or that I don’t understand. But I do. I’ve understood from the first, and every day I have to battle my fears that she will be alright. That she’ll come home each night and lay her head on the pillow.”
“A cop’s life.”
“And the lives of those who love them.” Giavanna squeezed his hand. “A woman like that, one with that sort of dedication and focus—she needs a man who understands that. Who understands her.”
“I think we’re figuring it out.”
“Then remember you need to tell her when she asks.”
“Tell her what?”
“Tell her where you came from. Tell her what made you. What drives you.” Giavanna stood up and pressed a kiss to his head. “And you have to tell her what scares you.”
Although they’d spent every night together, Landon made an excuse to Daphne about a few things he needed to finish up for work to get ahead of the time off for the holiday. She hadn’t seemed bothered by the request, and he’d promised her he would swing by and pick her up bright and early the next morning.
It hadn’t fully been a lie—he was behind on a few projects—but a few hours after heading home he was no closer to touching his computer than he was getting off the couch, the Yankees game blaring in his face.
Tell her what scares you.
The instructions were clear enough, as was the underlying directive.
Don’t fuck over my daughter.
God help him, that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he also wasn’t ready to just toss in the towel and spill his childhood secrets into her lap. They were called secrets for a reason, and he had a right to keep his.
A right to the ugly skeletons that still lived in the small apartment on the other side of town.
That was the real muck of Amber’s return. Did she have to re-enter his life just as he’d finally found someone he wanted to share that life with? He had no interest in a relationship with her under any circumstances, but the timing sucked ass.
He wasn’t scared of commitment with Daphne. He felt like he’d been knocked upside down by something with roughly the strength of the Incredible Hulk, but it wasn’t fear.
It was love.
So why did it have to get all fucked up with the reality of his birth mother’s return?
He was past his childhood. He’d had one life for ten years, and then a completely new one for the ensuing twenty-three. All that had come since Amber left his life had been good and precious and positive.
Productive.
Amber McGee might have given him life, but Louisa Mills was the one who’d given him something to live for. A family. A home. A future.
And he’d be damned if he was going to live in the past.
Tell her what scares you.
He appreciated the advice, but he and Daphne just needed to work their way around it. There was no way he was telling her what scared him.
No fucking way at all.
Daphne loaded the iced-down coolers into the back of her brother Antonio’s SUV. She waved at her nephew Tyler, buckled into his car seat, who’d been tossing out orders like the toddler terrorist he was for the past ten minutes.
“I can’t let you out. You’re headed to Nonn
a and Poppy’s.”
“Kisses, Aunt Phe.” Tyler blew kisses at her and that she knew she couldn’t resist. Swinging around to the side door, she pulled it open and bussed his face with kisses until he giggled. Peals of laughter echoed in her ear and she continued, adding tickles to the chubby little legs that spilled over the car seat.
“You said you wanted kisses.”
Tyler’s shrieks lit up the car.
“Kisses, no tickles!” He giggled some more when she made a move to tickle him, waving a little finger at her. “No tickles, Aunt Phe!”
“Sheesh, I leave you alone for a few hours and you find yourself a new man.” Landon moved up behind her and pressed a quick kiss to the base of her neck, just beneath her ponytail. A shot of electricity winged its way down her spine at the kiss, and Daphne felt the air charge around them.
Tyler had been at her mother’s the day before, observing all the party prep, and he quickly waved at his new friend. “Land! Land!”
“Hey there, big guy. You headed to your grandmother’s house?”
At his small, scrunched-up face, Daphne quickly translated for Tyler. “You going to Nonna’s house?”
“Nonna and Poppy!” Tyler shouted.
Landon grinned. “I need to get my lingo straight.”
Daphne smiled back, but even as she did, she couldn’t miss the deep lines that grooved the corners of his eyes. They’d both had little sleep over the past week, their evenings filled with an insatiable appetite for each other, but somehow she sensed something else was the cause.
“You okay?”
His gaze flitted away from hers, settling back on Tyler’s. “I’m great. I’m headed to the most legendary party in all of Brooklyn.”
“Party! Party!” Tyler took up the chant, raising his little fist in the air. Rory had taught him both the day before, and Daphne could only imagine the detox Stella was going to have to put the little boy through after two solid days with his uncles.
Her sister-in-law materialized from the garage, her hands full with a tray of cheese, and Landon moved quickly to intercept her. Stella thanked him and then pointed at his retreating back all while mouthing “He’s great” with exaggerated motions, and adding, sotto voce, “Don’t let this one go.”