by Piper Rayne
“It’s a great way to make some money on my two days off between shifts.”
“I have no problem filling in my off days.” Luca waggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but you’ll have a family to support one day.” I direct my flashlight into the crawl space.
“Did hell freeze over?” He finally joins me, kicking a few boxes to the side with his black boots.
“No, but don’t you ever think about it? I mean, I’m twenty-nine—”
“And I’m twenty-seven. You can forget about me getting married anytime soon.”
“Upstairs is secure!” Cristian yells down from the top of the stairs.
“Thanks, pig!” Luca yells back.
“Real original.” Cristian’s footsteps barrel down the steps. “Can we get the fuck out of this nightmare now?”
I turn around, pointing the flashlight at him. “Shut the fuck up. This is gonna be someone’s dream house when I’m done with it.”
“If you say so.” The t-shirt still tied over his nose.
“Did you know Mauro’s looking for a wife?” Luca says.
I punch him in the shoulder.
“I didn’t say that.”
Cristian says nothing, just glancing between Luca and myself.
“Why aren’t you surprised?” Luca asks. “Are you two shitheads having meaningful conversations without me? You know if you two get sucked into the whole marriage thing, Mama’s gonna double down the pressure on me.”
“First of all, stop giving girls you want to blow off the number to the deli,” I say. “It’s getting old and it only advertises the fact to Mama that you’re with a different girl every week.”
“Week?” Luca asks, a smirk saying ‘if you only knew’ on his lips.
Cristian rolls his eyes and heads up the stairs.
“Did you hear about the girl who bought him?” Luca follows Cristian, but he’s already cleared the stairs by the time we get to the first step.
Hell, he’s probably out the front door.
“Can we please concentrate on the house?” I ask, exasperated.
“It’s a lot of work, but I’ll help you out depending on what you’ll pay me.” He waggles those damn eyebrows again. A move he thinks is cute, but I’m not some chick he’s trying to pick up. One day he’ll meet his match and I’ll have a bowl of popcorn ready to watch the show.
“I have to get the house first,” I say.
He picks up a dead plant on the windowsill in the kitchen and it falls to the counter in one big hunk of dried dirt.
“So, you’re doing it then?” Luca asks.
“I’ve seen some other houses and they’re not feasible. This is the only place I can afford and still make a decent return on.”
He nods. “All right, I’m in. I can squeeze in a day or two.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
He laughs and we leave the house, the Realtor shutting and locking the door behind us.
“So the auction is next Tuesday at the courthouse,” she says. “Get your funding or bring your checkbook. I doubt that many people want this house, but you never know.”
She holds out her hand. “And if this is successful, maybe we can continue to do business.” Her smile tips up a notch.
I shake her hand. “Thanks.”
She gives one more inspection to the three of us and then heads down the stairs.
“Maybe she’ll drop the commission rate if you sleep with her.” Luca elbows me.
I shake my head. “Not interested right now.”
“Sometimes I think I’m the mailman’s kid around the two of you fucking saints.” Luca jogs down the stairs heading to his bike.
Cristian and I follow. “Luca was saying something about your date from the auction?” I ask him.
His shoulders sag. “It’s the fucking Commander’s daughter. Out of all the luck, I get the one girl where if I don’t go on the date, the Commander will be pissed and if I do go out he’ll be pissed. I’m screwed either way.”
“Is she good looking?” I ask.
“Does it matter?”
“Is she worth risking your job to get laid?” Luca chimes in as usual.
“She’s a fucking knockout, but you guys know her,” Cristian says.
Luca and I look at one another. “Who?” I ask.
“She’s friends with Madison and Lauren.”
“Who?” I ask again, my forehead scrunched.
“Oh that’s right. They weren’t cheerleaders.” Cristian shakes his head and gives a wry laugh.
“What does that mean?” I ask, crossing my arms in defense.
“Lauren and Maddie went to our high school, but they weren’t in your crowd.” Luca laughs.
“Whatever. So the Commander’s daughter went to St. George, too?”
“No. I don’t know how she knows them, but it was Maddie who bid on me for Vanessa.”
What is he talking about? Maddie, Lauren, and now Vanessa. None of the names ring a bell.
“Why would someone bid for someone else?” I ask.
“Lauren said they thought it would be fun,” Luca chimes in again and I’m wondering how they’re in the loop, but I’m not.
“Sucks for you two,” I say with a laugh.
They both widen their stances, share a look of amusement and cock their eyebrows at me.
“Hate to break it to you, but Maddie didn’t bid on you. Lauren did.” Luca laughs while Cristian chuckles.
“I’m going out with a Madison and she didn’t go to our high school. Which reminds me.” I pull out my phone.
“Maddie is Madison, you idiot,” Luca says. “Her and Lauren were my year.”
“I went to high school with Madison?” I try to let her face come back to me, and though I can picture her bright blue eyes and long chestnut hair, nothing about her is familiar from high school.
“Yes, but she definitely wasn’t hanging out at the bonfires and football pep rallies.” Luca grabs his helmet off his bike. The only responsible thing I’ve seen him do in the last few years.
“Well, shit and she doesn’t even want to go out with me? Her friend bid on me?”
Luca straddles his bike with a grin. I look over to Cristian, but he’s putting his shirt back on and starts fiddling with his earbuds. They obviously think this conversation is over.
“Yeah, but we’re all in the same boat.” Cristian’s thumb moves over his phone screen. “Maddie’s awesome and I think you’ll have a good time with her.”
“She seemed pretty quiet and way too accommodating,” I say.
Luca kicks his stand up, letting the bike rock a little under him.
Cristian’s hands freeze on the screen of his phone. “And that’s bad?” he asks.
“I want a woman who knows what she wants. Has her own damn opinions. Doesn’t just agree with everything I say.”
Cristian peeks over his shoulder, a look of amusement that matches Luca’s. “You want a girl to come up and grab your nuts?”
“I want a girl who knows what her favorite food is, has an opinion about where she wants to go for dinner, likes whatever sports team she likes and doesn’t default to my favorites.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, digging out my keys for my truck.
“Well then, Maddie might not be the one. Like I said, she’s nice.” Cristian slaps me on the shoulder. “Treat her good though, okay?” He inserts one earbud.
“What do you think I’m going to do, leave her in Garfield Park?”
He puts his other earbud in. “That’s not even funny man. I have a friend in that district and the shit that goes down there...” He shakes his head.
Cristian loses the entire point of my statement—the fact I’m not a jackass. I’m not Luca.
“It’s one date,” I say. “And who knows, maybe she’s nice but still has a wild streak.”
Christian again glances over to Luca who’s smiling like he’s fucking Mickey Mouse.
“Well, good luck on your date,”
he says.
Cristian jogs away and Luca’s bike starts up.
I head to my truck.
The conversation is over, but I’m curious now.
Where’s my damn yearbook?
Chapter Five
Madison
I peek through the window of Dice and Spins before deciding to wait outside. My habit of arriving ten minutes early is making me feel awkward while I wait for Mauro to show up. Maybe I should round the corner and wait to make a dramatic entrance like a woman who is fashionably late—one who struts across the pavement, her legs elegantly stepping one in front of the other as she unbuttons her coat and lets it slide down her arms behind her for the mystery man to take while she shakes out her hair. All while the man who’s been waiting on pins and needles for her to show is mesmerized thinking how blessed he is to have this gorgeous woman walking toward him.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
“Lady!” a man yells and I look up to see a bicycle barreling right toward me. The guy seems to be about my age with a satchel over his back, a long stream of blonde hair coming out from under his helmet and a nasty ‘get the fuck out of my way’ look on his face.
“Sorry.” I sidestep, only to run into another pedestrian on the street.
That person puts their hands on my shoulders to right me and keeps on walking without a word.
Heat scorches my cheeks and I step forward thinking I’ll just wait inside and look like the girl who has no life and has been crossing days off on her calendar with big red Xs until today.
Not that I did that.
Okay, I did. But I do that every day though. It had nothing to do with Mauro.
A large hand grabs the door handle of the cafe before I can.
“Hey, Madison,” Mauro says, opening the door with a polite smile.
He wore cologne. It’s the first thought that comes to my head. The woodsy cedarwood scent makes the city vibe disappear behind me. That and the way his dark jeans hug his strong thighs in just the right way and the way his grey Henley shirt makes his eyes look a dusty shade of blue.
“Hi, thanks,” I mumble, stepping into the cute café. One that Lauren and I have spent hours in competing with each other over Scrabble, Monopoly, or my personal favorite, Life.
The door shuts with a swoosh behind us and we stand on the welcome mat. A lot of booths are already taken with families and teenagers alike enthralled in their games, appetizers, and drinks sitting forgotten at the edge of their tables.
“I’ve never been here,” Mauro says, extending his arm forward, allowing me to lead.
“It’s fun. We pick a game, order some food and then play.” I guide us to the back of the room to the ordering station.
“What game is your favorite?” he asks, his gaze roaming over the bookcases of board games to our left.
“You pick.” I’m not really sure what Mauro would want to play, if anything. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should have suggested a quick tapas place. Somewhere where our date would go quickly and he wouldn’t figure out what a nerd I am. He probably thinks this place is totally juvenile.
Oh, God. Sweat is starting to gather at my temples. I don’t know if I can do this.
“Lady’s choice,” he winks and my stomach does a triple backflip worthy of an Olympic gold medal.
“How about…Boggle?”
He doesn’t smile, but nods. “Sure.” There’s an uneasiness on his face I can’t help but notice.
I should’ve picked something else, but Boggle doesn’t take long to play. I don’t think he’d enjoy being tormented with a three hour game of Monopoly.
“We can always play something else,” I say.
He grabs the box from the bookcase. “No. It’s your night.”
The reminder that he’s only here because I paid for him to be here is like a bucket of cold water on my face. He’ll amuse me by playing a few games, making small talk and having a bite to eat before he disappears forever this time.
I should be happy. He’s not in my sector of the dating pool. Maybe after tonight, I can finally put my childhood crush to rest.
After the mental pep talk, I order a trio of hummus with vegetables and pita bread along with a berry and pecan salad.
Mauro’s still dissecting the menu as me and the girl behind the register admire him. His Adam’s apple is prominent while his neck is stretched out to read the menu above us. His strong forearms that have probably axed down thousands of doors are crossed over his chest. I can’t even fault the girl for staring at him like he’s the latest Hollywood heartthrob because he looks exactly like that.
His head tips back down and the two of us try to act like we weren’t just fantasizing about what he’d be like in bed. If he noticed or felt our stares, he ignores them.
“I’ll have the combo platter with wings, moz sticks, and potato skins. And a Miller.”
I guess I should order a drink. If anything, it will make me feel less intimidated by him. Liquid courage, right?
“Can you add a glass of Riesling to our order?” I ask.
The girl smiles and hands us a number.
I open my purse to grab my wallet, but Mauro hands her a card before I have a chance.
“Hey, I’m supposed to pay,” I complain.
He signs his name on the electronic device. “You paid enough. My treat.” He winks, but it comes across as more playful than seductive.
She hands him back his card and he puts his wallet in his back pocket.
“Thank you,” I say.
He holds up the box in his hands. “Lead the way.”
The girl behind the register smiles at us, though it’s probably mostly to Mauro. I grab the order number which is at the top of a long metal stick and head farther back to where there are still a few empty tables.
Don’t think about how he’s walking right behind me.
Good thing I wore my ‘bounce a quarter off my ass’ jeans.
I slide into one side of the booth and his large body folds into the bench across from me.
“Would you rather a table?” I ask, wondering if this will be uncomfortable for a man his size.
“No. I’m good. But thank you.”
The Boggle box sits in the middle of the table and we both stare at it for a minute.
“Would you rather eat before we play?” I ask—anything to fill the awkward silence.
He leans back in the booth. “Whatever you want.”
Again a reminder that I paid for his time tonight. I could kill Lauren for this.
“You decide.”
He shakes his head. “No, please.”
“Well, they’re usually fast with the food orders, but we can probably get one game in.” I grab two notepads and two pens from the stand on the table that includes extra timers and dice in case the ones that are supposed to be in the box are missing.
“I think my brother Luca would love this place.” He looks around, taking the cap off the pen.
“He is pretty competitive, right?” I ask. I can talk about Luca. I don’t know a ton about him other than that he played four sports in high school and still graduated in the top five percent of our class.
“Competitive is an understatement. He’s like the idiot who would challenge Hulk Hogan to an arm wrestling match and expect to win. Everything is a competition to him.” Mauro’s lips curl and my stomach decides it’s time for some gymnastic moves again.
“I do remember him being sure of himself.” Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
He snaps his fingers and points. That flipping in my stomach quickly stops and starts churning instead.
“Luca told me you went to St. George?” The fact he states it as a question is like a knife in my back.
Our school wasn’t that big and I know he was two years older than me, and I wasn’t close to his social hierarchy, but we did share that one night.
It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t remember me, I remind myself.
; “I did.”
“I don’t remember you.” His face doesn’t hold any arrogance with his comment. It looks more like he doesn’t understand how I don’t ring a bell to him.
“Well, people can change a lot in nine years.”
His lips tip up into a half smile. “I hope you’re right. I was a little self-centered then I guess, but who isn’t in high school?” He shrugs.
Me. I want to raise my hand. I wasn’t.
Wanting to veer as far away from this conversation as possible, I pry the box open and shake up the pieces in the plastic container.
“Do you know how to play?” I ask.
“I think so.”
“Just try to come up with as many words as you can. The letters have to touch and you can’t use a letter twice in one word.”
He nods and poises his pen over top of the paper.
I place the plastic container in the middle of the table, taking off the cover and flipping over the timer at the same time.
Barely able to concentrate, I come up with a few five letter words but mostly three and four ones. My eyes flicker to the timer because this whole game thing was a bad, bad idea. The silence is excruciating and the late realization that I made our date somehow educational instead of fun sets in.
“Time’s up,” I say.
Mauro’s sheet is filled, but I can’t read a lot of the words because of his bad handwriting.
He leans back, propping his paper up so I can’t see his answers.
“If you want to go first.” I hold my hand out and he doesn’t argue.
“Okay.” He rambles off his list and I pretend I don’t have some of the words.
Don’t ask me why. Maybe because I don’t want to castrate him with the first game we play. He seems bored and losing would probably make him even less interested in being here. I feel like we’re both mentally checked out from the date.
I guess it just confirms my belief that Mauro might be nice to look at and a great hero in my dreams, but in real life on a real date, we aren’t compatible.
I lie, allowing him to win because I made him come on this date. I don’t even bother to read off my five letter words.
Thankfully, I can tuck my notepad away and repackage the game when the waitress comes over with our food. The bartender is there as soon as she’s done, placing our drinks down on the table.