Hook

by Chelle Bliss

  She’s smiling. That’s a good sign. Or she already thinks I’m nuts, and I’ve just confirmed every thought she has about me. “Having problems?”

  My shoulders sag forward as I groan. “This damn machine. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to get such a complicated contraption.”

  Betty laughs as she steps into the middle of the shop. “I’m sure Angelo can figure it out,” she says.

  “Maybe I’ll ask him for help.”

  “He loves helping.”

  She’s selling him hard. She doesn’t have to with me. I already know he’s a diamond in the rough. The way he treats his kids makes my empty womb crave to be filled.

  “The shop’s coming along nicely.” She glances around. “I’d guess you like pink.”

  “Eh,” I mutter. “I’m more of a red girl, but that’s a little too jarring for a cupcake place.”

  “Who said?”

  “The designer I hired. She said pink and cream are more inviting. She gave me the psychology behind the color theory, but for the life of me, I can’t remember. Anyway, is there something I can help you with?”

  “I wanted to talk about earlier.” She pulls the gloves off her hands and keeps her eyes on me. “I hope you didn’t think I was being too pushy.”

  “I’d never think that.”

  She was forward, but her honesty was a breath of fresh air. I always get Roger’s opinion, but since he has a penis, his opinion isn’t always on point.

  “Why don’t I grab us two drinks from the bar, and we can finish our chat?”

  “How about some cocoa instead? I still have so much work to do. If I start drinking, I’m going to end up in bed way earlier than I want.”

  “Cocoa, it is.” She slides into the pink velvet banquette I had specially made for the shop and places her gloves on the tabletop.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell her before I head into the kitchen to grab two mugs and the cocoa I’d been heating on the stove.

  Even though I’ve been in Chicago for years, my body hasn’t gotten used to the cold. Growing up in the South, anything below sixty was enough to cause my body to go into shock. Cocoa had become my staple to get me through the cold winter nights, especially since Mitchell died.

  “Here we go.” I take the seat across from her and place the two mugs in front of us.

  She wraps her slender fingers around the mug, soaking in the warmth. “When’s the grand opening again?”

  “In a week.” I sigh. “I’m so far behind, and my contractor is a flake.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  I shrug. I’ve learned not to depend on anyone, even when money’s involved. “I should’ve planned for this, but I was too caught up in the excitement, I didn’t have a backup plan.”

  She lifts the mug to her lips and blows across the top. “It’s hard to plan for the unexpected sometimes.”

  Isn’t that the truth? I never expected Mitchell not to come back from his mission. When we married, I knew what kind of life I was getting myself into. Military life isn’t for everyone. I accepted his long absences because he always came back to me. I knew he was in danger every time he went off to God knows where, but never once did I imagine my husband wouldn’t come home. Sure, I knew women who lost their spouses in action, but I never thought I’d be in the same shoes.

  Naïve, I know.

  Looking back, I realize I was a complete moron. Mitchell was bigger than life, and he always seemed invincible.

  “Maybe you need to go out for an evening and unwind. All this stress isn’t good for you.” She takes a sip, eyeing me over the rim.

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I know Angelo could use a night out too.”

  I love this woman. She doesn’t leave much to the imagination. She doesn’t just drop hints, she hurls bombs.

  “I’m sure it’s not easy for him with the kids.”

  I know she wants me to take the bait, but I don’t. An evening out with Angelo would in no way be a hardship. The man is handsome, sweet, and just one look at him and my body’s about to do the horizontal mambo.

  She waves me off. “I’ll watch the kids. They’ll only be little for a short time. I spoil them while I can. You two should go out and get to know each other better.” She smirks.

  I lean forward and set my mug on the gray and white marble table. “Can I be frank, Betty?”

  She nods.

  “I don’t think Angelo’s ready, and I’m not sure I’m the right one for him.”

  She stares at me for a moment and doesn’t speak. I’m truly flattered she wants us to spend time together. What girl wouldn’t be when a hot guy’s mom thinks you should get to know her son better?

  “The one thing I know is my children. Angelo feels things deeper than most people. Losing Marissa almost broke him. But I also know he’s not meant to be alone.”

  “I…”

  “I think you two would be perfect for each other.”

  “Betty,” I say, thinking about how to put into words what I feel. “I understand his grief probably better than most people in the world. There’s a helplessness and infiniteness to the pain and darkness. It took me a long time before I felt human again. I’ve never experienced such crushing grief. I know your family wants what’s best for him and for him to move on, but until he’s ready, there’s nothing that will open his heart, not even if he finds the perfect person.”

  “He’s lonely. Even with the kids, he’s lonely. I don’t think he can escape the darkness until he finds someone with light. Someone who will remind him what it means to be loved and to be a man,” she tells me and reaches across the table, touching my hand. “I’m not asking you to love him, dear, but maybe be his friend. As you said, no one else understands what he’s going through like you do. Maybe he’ll feel comfortable and open up to you. If nothing else, maybe you can help him see there’s still more life to live.”

  I get what she’s saying. For years, I avoided going to support groups. I didn’t think they’d help. Talking to strangers about something so personal wasn’t easy either. But opening up to people, knowing I wasn’t alone in how I felt did bring peace, even if only for a little while.

  “We could always use more friends. I just don’t want you to think that he and I will be anything more.”

  It almost pains me to say those words. Angelo’s a man I could easily fall head over heels for. He’s a little intense, but Mitchell wasn’t a walk in the park either. Strong men are always a little over the top, and I’ve never been one to go for the hipster type who wears skinny jeans and spouts sweet words. I need a man with a little bite to him.

  Betty nods as she takes another sip of her cocoa. She’s stunningly beautiful with her bright red hair and pale skin. “Sure, dear. Of course. If there’s no spark, there’s no spark.”

  “Betty.” She’s goading me, and I’m falling right into her trap. “I never said there wasn’t a spark. At least, for me. I just can’t rush his heart’s ability to move on.”

  She beams with excitement. “Sure. Sure. I completely understand. Friendship is a great place to start.” She dabs the corners of her mouth with her fingertips. “You said you were having some problems getting work done?”

  I nod and push away the mug of cocoa. “I am. I have a few things that need doing, and I don’t have the skill set to do them.” I shrug. “I’ll have to look on Craigslist and see who I can find in a pinch.”

  “Absolutely not.” She shakes her head. “I have two men next door who can handle the work. Three, if you include Vinnie who should be home any day now for a few days before his spring break ends.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Doll, let my boys help. They love feeling needed, and right now, you’re in need. That’s what we do in this neighborhood. We’re a small little family, bound not by blood but by location.”

  I have a feeling that isn’t always the case. If I were some crotchety old man with a problem, I wouldn’t have three str
apping men helping after their momma sent them over to come to my rescue.

  “How are your boys going to feel about you offering their services?”

  “They’ll do whatever I tell them,” she says with a smirk.

  I have no doubt Betty rules that household. It’s the Italian way. I don’t think I know any Italian man who isn’t wrapped around his mother’s finger. There’re worse things to be. A man who will adore his mother most likely knows how to treat a woman and has learned respect. That’s a way of life I could get behind.

  “Let me see if I can find someone else first. If I can’t, I’ll ask the guys to give me a hand.”

  She nods again and slides out of the booth. “That’s fine.”

  I rise to my feet, towering over her in my high heels. “Thanks for stopping by,” I say, not sure if I should hug her, so I just stand there.

  All doubt is wiped away as Betty puts her arms around me and embraces me so tightly, I almost break down in tears. It’s been so long since anyone’s held me besides Roger. The sentiment is touching, and I know in this moment, not only could I fall for Angelo, but his family too.

  8

  Angelo

  Tate has her face pressed up against the glass of the cupcake shop. “Where’s Tilly?” Tate glances at me before peering through the window again.

  “Maybe she’s not in yet. Let’s go, Tate. Grandma’s waiting, and I have work to do.”

  “Maybe she’ll bring me more cupcakes today.” Tate runs to my side and grabs my hand. “They were so good, Daddy. Weren’t they?” She gazes up at me, wanting nothing more than my attention.

  “They were delicious, kiddo. Thanks for sharing with me and Brax.”

  She smiles. She’s proud of herself. The greedy little thing only gave me half of one cupcake, but it was a start. She’s never been one to share food, especially dessert. She’d sooner stab you in the hand with her fork than give anyone a bite. She did give Brax an entire cupcake, so I’ll take that as a sign of progress.

  “Think Tilly can come over sometime?” she asks, totally throwing me for a loop.

  I look down at her, and she’s gazing up at me with so much hopefulness in her blue eyes. “Maybe, Tate. Tilly’s a very busy lady.”

  “Maybe have her over for dinner. Everyone has to eat,” she says like she’s thirty years old instead of seven.

  “We’ll see,” I tell her because the last thing I want to do is kill all her joy at eleven in the morning.

  She still hasn’t forgotten about the horse, something I may never forgive Daphne for mentioning in front of her.

  “It would make me so, so happy,” she says as we walk through the front door of Hook & Hustle.

  The kid has me wrapped around her little finger. She knows it. I know it. Hell, the whole world knows I’m hers to command. Every little girl has her father right where she wants him, and Tate’s no exception.

  “Grandma!” Tate takes off across the bar, running straight into my mother’s waiting arms.

  “Hey, kiddo. Ready for a fun day?” Ma lifts her off the floor in the biggest bear hug.

  I carry Brax around to the back of the bar with me and set him on top, letting him play with his Transformer for a few more minutes. His tiny feet dangle, kicking the wooden cabinet underneath. “You want something to drink, Brax?”

  “No.” He doesn’t even look at me. He’s too fixated on the toy in his hand.

  “I want to go ice-skating at the park today,” Tate tells my ma, filled with so much excitement at the thought, she’s almost shaking.

  Lucio walks through the front door and shivers. “Damn, it’s cold out there. I’m so sick of this weather.”

  We’re all over the long winter. There have been moments when I thought about joining the other half of my family in Florida, but I can’t bring myself to leave my parents behind.

  “Don’t take off your coat,” Ma says to Lucio and then turns to me. “I have something I need both of you to do for a bit today.”

  She’s up to something.

  “Who’s going to watch the bar?” I ask.

  “Your father and I will.” She tilts her head, slowly crossing her arms. “I ran this bar more years than you two have. I think we can handle it.”

  “What on God’s green earth do you want us to do?” Lucio asks as he rubs his hands together, trying to warm up.

  Ma pitches her head to the side. “Tilly needs help at the shop.”

  “Wait.” Lucio tilts his head. “She needs what kind of help?”

  “Her contractor went MIA. She needs a hand finishing a few projects so she isn’t late for the grand opening next week.”

  “I’ll do it.” There’s no way I’m leaving my parents in charge of the bar, and I sure as shit don’t need Lucio to help me give Tilly a hand. “Lucio can stay here.”

  “I’ll help, man,” Lucio says immediately.

  “No. It’s a one-man job.”

  My mother’s smiling for some odd reason. “That’s fine too.”

  Lucio shrugs. “I’ll be here if you need me,” he tells me before taking off his jacket.

  I place Brax back on the floor, guiding him toward his grandma. “Be good today. Listen to Grandma,” I tell him and Tate.

  Tate gives me a little nod. “We always are, Daddy.”

  Ma walks over to me and places her hand on my arm. “Thank you,” she says. “I have a good feeling about this girl, and I hate to see her struggle. She’s been through enough.”

  “I’ll take care of her, Ma.”

  “You’re a good man, baby.” She touches my cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want Lucio’s help?”

  I shake my head. “I got it.”

  Normally, I’d be more than happy to have Lucio’s help, but in all honesty, I’m being greedy. I want time with Tilly by myself. The more people around, the more awkward the entire thing could be.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there’s a spark between us. Maybe it’s our pasts that draws our souls together. Unless you’ve lived through that kind of loss, you can never fully understand the depth of the possible heartache.

  “Take your time,” Ma says to me. “I’ll watch the kids as long as you need. Tilly’s waiting for you.”

  I know what she’s doing. I can see her scheme from a mile away. “I won’t be too long.” I kiss her cheek softly. “Thanks.”

  I’m thanking her for watching the kids, but I know she already has her eyes set on a possible love affair and future Mrs. Angelo Gallo. She did this with Lucio, pushing him toward Delilah. Of course, he would’ve found his way to her in time, but Ma and I helped make him come to his senses a little quicker than he would have.

  When I walk out of the bar, I stop on the sidewalk between the two buildings and take a few deep breaths. Tilly knocks me off-kilter. Maybe it’s the sweet way she talks or the fact that she smells like dessert.

  I walk into the cupcake shop, pushing open the front door a little harder than I meant to. I didn’t even see the ladder or Tilly standing at the top, polishing a light fixture, until she screeches in horror and tries to grab on to something. She fails, falling backward, and I catch her.

  “Jesus, I’m so sorry.” I hold her tightly, loving the way she feels in my arms.

  “Scared the fuck out of me.” She gasps for air. “Thank God you caught me or…”

  “I’d never let you fall.” I stare into her beautiful green eyes.

  She’s shaking. “Nothing like almost breaking your neck to remind you of how alive you really are,” she says, trying to play off the fact that I could’ve actually killed her.

  I take in her body, light and soft against mine. “What the hell were you doing up that high in heels?”

  “I always wear heels.” She gives me an innocent smile.

  “Always?” I raise an eyebrow, a bit more playful than I normally am.

  “Always.”

  I can imagine her naked in nothing but a pair of red stilettos, standing at the foot of my bed. My s
tomach flips, liking the idea just as much as my cock does. “I should probably put you down now,” I say, but in this moment, I don’t really want to. “Ma said you needed help.”

  “You don’t have to. I can hire someone online.”

  “No. I would love to help.”

  Her eyes light up. “You would?”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m ready, willing, and able. I’m here to do whatever you need.”

  A playful smile dances on her lips. “Well, I guess you better put me down, or we’ll get nothing done.”

  I’d almost forgotten I was still holding her. “Right,” I mumble, feeling like a tool. “What do you want me to do first?”

  She slides down my body as I release her, a little too close not to be flirtatious. “Well, why don’t I show you everything I have on my list, and we’ll go from there?”

  “I’m your man,” I say and stop myself from continuing.

  Where the hell did that come from? Again, when I’m around Tilly, I don’t feel like Angelo the widower. I feel like Angelo the red-blooded American male.

  Six hours later, we have the majority of her list completed. Her contractor was ripping her off and working at a snail’s pace to get more money out of her. There’s no reason any of this shouldn’t have been finished already. But in a way, I’m thankful. Without his fuck-up, I wouldn’t be sitting next to her on the floor, exhausted and feeling more content than I have in a long time.

  “Tilly.” I lean against the wall with my arms propped up on my knees. “Want to go to dinner with me? As friends, of course.”

  I threw in the last little part so I wouldn’t scare her off, and it makes me feel less guilty.

  “Only if I can pay as a thank you.”

  I turn my head to face her and narrow my eyes. “Absolutely not. I’m asking you, and therefore, I’m paying. I never let a woman pay.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “Is this a date?”

  I rub the back of my neck, wondering what the hell I’m doing. “I don’t know.”

  Am I taking her out as friends, or do I want something more? I’m not sure where my head or heart is, but it’s not in sync with my dick, which very much wants a date with Tilly.