by Mia Madison
Leaving Lando
An Adamo Story
Mia Madison
Contents
1. Dancing Around
2. The Baby Sweepstakes
3. Adamo Men
4. Negotiations
5. Ordinary Ends
6. Oh, Honey
7. Just Getting Started
8. Promises
9. Next Year
10. Help Me
11. Already Warm
Epilogue
Also by Mia Madison
About the Author
1
Dancing Around
A bitter November wind whips around me as I hurry down the sidewalk, carrying matching paper bags with twine handles. I'm about to reward myself for a hard day's work by feasting my eyes on the most delectable man-candy in town: detective Lando Adamo.
Every weekday afternoon, once the bakery I run with my sisters has closed, I deliver baked goodies to the police station. The cops get the Callahans' thanks for their public service, and I get to flirt with Lando. Normally, I'd want to do a lot more than flirt with him ... but there's a problem.
Actually, two problems. One of them is named Jade, and the other Romero, and they are my sister and his brother respectively. We all met around the same time, but the two of them went and fell in love, and now Lando and I are stuck with being friends.
But I'm determined to figure out a way to solve our mutual dilemma, because, as I said, Lando's the hottest thing around, and it's not fair that I don't get to roll around with him naked. We're both adults. We could be friends with benefits without anyone getting hurt.
Only one more block to go. I stop at a streetlight, and a fiftyish woman, wrapped in a warm wool coat, eyes my bags and smiles at me. "You're one of the Callahan girls, aren't you?"
I smile back. "Yes, ma'am. Brianna Callahan."
"I'm so glad to see you and your sisters doing well. It was such a shame about your father, and then the farm, but the whole town is rooting for you."
"Thank you, ma'am. We're very grateful for all the support."
"Everything I eat seems to go right to my waist these days, but I let myself have something from your bakery once a week as a special treat. It's all so delicious, and you have such an amazing variety."
The light changes. A gust of wind blows inside my open jacket, making me shiver. "Look at me," she says, "keeping you talking in this cold. We'd best be on our way. Have a good evening."
"You too, and thanks again," I tell her, then pick up the pace as I scurry toward my destination.
It's only been a couple of months since my sisters and I opened Callahan's, not long after our farmhouse was torched. It's been less than a year since our father died. But thanks to some amazing support from people in the community, we've pulled through.
As I reach the police station and circle around to the back, my heart beats faster in anticipation. The building is teeming with cops, both uniformed and plainclothes. I follow a pair of uniforms in, exchanging greetings as I go, and head up the stairs to the detectives' bullpen.
Officially, the goodies I deliver are leftovers, but the truth is that my sisters and I sell out of our entire stock more often than not. So I make extra of some things, or commandeer samples here and there throughout the day, putting them in bakery boxes and then into one of our bags, which are silver with Callahan's on them in a bold green script. It's worth the extra effort to make sure I always have a good selection when I show up.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I enter a packed bullpen to a chorus of cheers. It didn't take long for word about my visits to spread, and now virtually every detective in the department finds a reason to be here at four o'clock.
I make a beeline for Lando's desk, then stop cold. It's empty. He's not here.
A swell of disappointment, and worse, hurt, wrenches at me, but I'm well aware of all the eyes on me, so I only pause for a fraction of a second before I keep right on going, pasting a smile on my face as though it doesn't matter to me at all whether he's around.
Which is a ridiculous lie, and everyone here knows it. They all benefit from my ongoing flirtation with Lando, so no one complains that he gets first pick of whatever I bring, before the rest of the squad falls on the remainder like starving wolves. On the other hand, none of them are under any illusion that I make these trips out of the goodness of my heart.
"Two bags today," Detective Whittier says with approval. "What'd we do to rate that?"
I smile at her. "I kept thinking of things I wanted to try, so y'all are the beneficiaries." Setting the bags down on Lando's desk, I'm about to announce that it's first come, first served today when a pair of strong arms circles my waist.
A large, warm body presses against my back, and at the same instant I smell him, that delicious mix of spice and clean manly sweat that never fails to get my libido revving. The sexiest voice in town says in my ear, "How's my favorite baker?"
My nipples go hard, and I get a throb between my legs. I have to clear my throat before I can answer. "You're just in time," I tell him. "I was about to call open season on today's selection."
"I got held up." One big hand squeezes my hip. "I'd never miss one of your visits." He turns me to face him, and I'm confronted yet again with well over six feet of breathtaking masculine beauty.
Eyes dark as sin and twice as hot take in my appearance before he scowls. "You're wearing a t-shirt in this weather?" He yanks me against him, and I have to hold back a groan as my breasts make full contact with his broad, muscular chest, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through me.
His hands dive under my jacket, and then my shirt, to run up and down my back, rubbing briskly. I bite my lip, my arms wrapped chastely around his waist, willing myself not to blatantly writhe against him in front of all these people.
Lando Adamo shorts out my self-control like no man ever has.
"You're wearing a t-shirt too," I point out when I can speak in something resembling a normal tone. "And no jacket."
"Jacket's hung on the back of my chair. I was in another part of the building, not outside." I'm not facing his desk anymore, but now that he mentions it, I remember seeing it there. "And anyway, I'm a guy. We don't get cold as easily. More muscle."
I can testify -- because I've watched him shoot hoops in nothing but gym shorts and shoes -- that Lando is ripped with a capital R. He is hotter than I am in every sense of that word; being pressed against him is like hugging a furnace.
He's also way too bossy.
Which is why, even though I love being this close to him, and wish we could do it with neither of us wearing any clothes, I pull back. "I can't wear long sleeves when I'm working; it gets too hot in the bakery. And someone stopped me on the way here to talk, or I wouldn't have gotten cold."
He scowls at me again. "Bring a sweater to work with you. Or a hat and scarf and some gloves. Or all of the above."
"Yes, Dad," I say in my most sarcastic voice -- and let me just note that my sarcasm dial goes all the way to 11.
His eyes flash. I'm going to hear about that later, when we don't have an audience. For now, he lets it, and me, go, and moves around me to look in the bags. "What have we got today?"
I take a moment to savor his tight ass and strong thighs, hugged by faded denim. "Bag number one has double fudge brownies, snickerdoodles, chocolate chip cookies, scones, bear claws, and red velvet cupcakes. Bag number two has a few experiments."
"Right. One snickerdoodle ..." He draws it out and hands the rest off to the nearest detective to be divvied up among everyone else, then grabs the other bag. "Now let's see what we have in here."
I always bring snickerdoodles, because they were the first thing I ever baked for him -- though I didn't know, at the time, that they wer
e for him. Jade had to come down to the station to ask for a restraining order, and my other sister, Quinn, and I went with her.
So I brought along a plate of cookies ... just to be neighborly.
And there was Lando, looking like he was not only present the day they handed out sex appeal, he also got the portions of everyone who failed to show. The fact that he's fifteen years older than me only makes him hotter. He's all man, and I have no doubt he knows exactly what he's doing in bed.
We had instant chemistry, but before we could act on it, Romero and Jade fell hard for each other, and now they're engaged. Which makes things a bit awkward. I’m not looking to settle down, and I’m certain Lando isn’t either. I’m saving my share of income from the bakery, and someday in the not too distant future, I’m going to hit the road.
So there’s no way we can be anything but friends with benefits — but if we manage to make a hash of it, we’ll hurt everyone around us. And Lando and I, we love our families. Neither of us wants to do anything stupid.
I’m ready to take the risk, though. He’s driving me mad with lust. If the man doesn't make his move soon, I'm going to make it for him.
"What's this?" he says, holding up a little round cookie.
"Chocolate-pecan shortbread drop."
"Mmm." He pops it in his mouth and chews, thoughtfully, taking his time. "Winner," he announces, and I flash him a delighted grin. Honestly, I don't bring anything to share that I don't already think is good ...but it satisfies me deep down, in a way I can't fully express, to have Lando appreciate my creations.
He samples, and approves, my Black Forest Pudding muffins, apple cider spice cookies, caramel shortbread, pumpkin crisps, and cranberry-ginger cake. "Amazing," he says when he's finished his last bite. "If they gave out Oscars for baked goods, you'd sweep 'em every year."
I flush with pleasure. Lando snags his jacket from his desk chair. "You done for the day?"
"All finished." My sisters and I start work early in the morning, so by mid-afternoon we've already put in a long day. We close at three, and spend another hour cleaning up and getting things set for the next morning.
"Good." He slings an arm around my shoulder. "Let's go get dinner."
As I wave goodbye to everyone, I catch a glimpse of Detective Stuart. He and Romero had a run-in that first time my sisters and I were here, and since then, he acts like the Adamos and the Callahans are all his sworn enemies. He's eyeing Lando and me, his mouth twisted.
I'm tempted to flip him off, or stick my tongue out at him, something mature like that. But I don't, because I've got better things to think about. Like the big, hot hunk of man at my side, and whether tonight will finally be the night we stop dancing around and get down to business.
2
The Baby Sweepstakes
Brianna Callahan is going to be the death of me. Red hair, big gray eyes, curves a man could sink his teeth into, and plenty of sass. I wanted to fuck her about half a second after I met her, and time has only made things worse.
As I walk her to my truck, I try and fail to keep my dick from getting hard, just from the scent and feel of her against my side. I open the passenger door, watching her gorgeous round ass while she climbs up. Once she’s inside, I go around to the door on my side, but I have to take a moment and adjust myself before I join her.
When I’ve got the truck going, I crank the heater up. I don’t need it, but Bree does. Just as I start to put the truck in gear, my phone rings.
The readout says it’s Jade, my brother’s fiancee. My first thought is that something’s happened to Rome. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lando, it’s Jade. Have you got a minute?”
She sounds normal, not scared or stressed, and I relax. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I don’t know if Bree’s mentioned it, but next week is her and Quinn’s birthday.”
I keep my eyes from cutting over to my passenger. “Is that right.”
There’s the slightest of pauses before Jade says, “Is she with you right now?”
“You bet.”
“Ahh. Okay, I’ll text you later with details, but just so you know, Rome and I are planning a party for them here at our place. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“Got it. See you then.”
We disconnect and I tuck the phone away, just in case Brianna takes a glance at my readout to see who called. Not that she’s the sneaky, dishonest type or anything like that. In fact, she’s one of the most up-front women I’ve ever met.
But her lively brain comes complete with an natural inquisitiveness about pretty much everything, so why tempt her?
About my phone, that is. In other areas, I’d like nothing more than to find out just how far her curiosity extends. Romero and Jade are great together, and I’m happy that my brother has found the woman who’s his everything. But when it comes to my sex life, their engagement is damned inconvenient.
One way or another, Bree’s going to be in my life for decades. No way can I do anything to mess things up between us. If I hurt Bree, it won’t just affect her; it’ll ripple out to her twin sister Quinn, and to Jade, and then Rome, and then back to me.
Not that being around her is difficult. She’s smart, funny, loyal, and hardworking. Apart from my serious need to fuck her brains out, hanging out with Brianna Callahan is one of my favorite pastimes. But like it or not — and I fucking well do not — I have to keep Bree in the friend zone.
My cock, though, refuses to get the message. Most nights I dream about her, the kind of dreams that wake me up with a raging hard-on. Worse, my subconscious has some fucking awesome ideas about how, exactly, I should get down and dirty with Bree.
Despite all my best intentions, I’m keeping track of those ideas … just in case.
She hasn’t said a word since the phone call. Usually, the two of us are yakking away a mile a minute. She’s dying to know who I was talking to, but when I don’t volunteer the information, she holds it in and switches tack. “Any interesting cases?”
“Not right now. Just the usual stuff, busting low-level dealers, trying to sniff out the big ones.”
“No offense, but don’t you think the war on drugs is, well, kind of pointless? I mean, it’s been going on decades without fixing anything.”
“I’m a cop, not a politician. It’s not my job to make laws, just enforce them.”
“I know that. But you’re not on duty right now.”
I turn into the Revved parking lot. I’m in the mood for one of my cousin Vic’s burgers, and the menu’s varied enough that Bree won’t have a problem finding something that suits her. Guiding the truck into a parking slot, I shut it off and turn to her.
“We could stand to have more emphasis on treatment, yeah. On figuring out what causes addictions, not just punishing people who have an illness. But I don’t think legalizing everything is the answer. And the pushers and dealers who prey on addicts? I have no problem throwing their asses in jail.”
I open my door and she does the same on her side, sliding down to the ground by the time I make it around to her. When I get there, she smiles up at me and puts her hands on my chest. “Can I come on one of your drug busts?”
Is she crazy? “Absofuckinglutely not.”
Her smile vanishes. “Why not?”
“Bree.” I shake my head, impatient, and escort her to the entrance, my hand at the small of her back. It’s another thing I can’t seem to stop myself from doing: touching her in public like she’s mine. Claiming her in front of other men.
“Bree what?” she demands as we reach the hostess station. There’s a new girl there in her Revved smock top. I used to know all the waitresses, but then, one after another, they all got married to various cousins of mine.
The name stitched on this one’s top is Emery. She’s blonde, probably around Bree’s age, and looks as fresh and wholesome as they come. Girl Scout, choir member, the whole nine yards.
Not my type at all.
We’re just ahead of th
e dinner rush; the restaurant’s never empty, but at the moment it’s not packed. Emery seats us right away, in a booth by one of the front windows. Another new girl, Sierra, comes to take our drink orders.
I get a beer, and Bree asks for water. She’s not twenty-one yet; only nineteen, in fact, though according to Jade she’s about to turn twenty. While she studies the menu, I study her, my own menu at the ready in case she glances up.
Her hair spills around creamy skin, sprinkled with freckles. Until today, only my imagination knew how she felt; I hadn’t let myself touch her without her clothing as a barrier. When I saw her shivering, I went a little nuts, and before I knew it I was rubbing her back.
Soft, and silky smooth, that’s what her skin feels like. Heaven against my hands. If her back feels that way, the inside of her thighs must be …
Fuck. I shift on my side of the booth as my cock springs to attention again. Sierra’s arrival with our drinks is a welcome distraction.
I order a burger and fries, and Bree gets the personal pan pizza with double pepperoni. The girl loves to eat; it’s one of my favorite things about her. “Lando,” she says when Sierra’s gone away again.
“Hmm?” I bet she’s going to ask about coming along on a drug bust again. Lifting my drink to my mouth to buy me time, I try to think of an answer that will get her to drop the subject.
“When are we going to fuck?”
I choke on beer and go into a coughing jag. When I’m recovered from that, if not the shock, I set the bottle down with a snap and stare at her. “What?”
She gives me a cut the crap look. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Bree. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I know you’re not,” she says patiently. “My question was when you’re going to remedy that.”