Dare (San Francisco Brides Book 3)

by Juliano, Celia

  She followed Carlo into the kitchen. It hadn’t changed much since high school. The oval pecan table near the windows covered in colorful curtains, the hutch, the rows of counters and white cabinets, and the island where bread-making had been done, and snacks put out, and kids gathered around. Sophia stood by the stove. Ariella’s shoulders eased down, remembering happier times.

  “Ariella’s here,” Carlo said.

  Sophia turned and tried to smile, but it was only a slight quirk of her lips. “Ariella, thanks for coming. You could put those on the table if you like.” She picked up the casserole dish she’d been taking out of the oven and placed it on a hot pad on the table. “I made the chicken and rice casserole recipe your mom had given me.”

  Ariella nodded. Mamá and Sophia had been fast friends. They’d sat in this kitchen for hours, cooking, sewing, talking, and organizing programs for the church, especially the women’s group.

  Carlo touched Ariella’s shoulder. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes, please, some water.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

  “Let’s sit,” Sophia said, motioning to a chair.

  Ariella slid into the seat, where Mamá had sat countless times. Carlo set a glass of water in front of her. She sipped it, the coolness easing the tightness in her throat. Carlo then set a salad on the table and sat next to Sophia, between them. The red gingham curtains were drawn back. Ariella studied the bare branches of the tree out back. Soon, it would bud with new growth.

  “We’ll say grace then eat,” Carlo said in a quiet voice. He said a quick prayer before serving the food.

  Ariella ate a few bites. She hadn’t had Mamá’s arroz con pollo since…the night before they’d died. She set down her fork and took a sip of water.

  “You okay?” Carlo asked.

  She nodded. “Just brings back memories, being here, and this.” She motioned to the casserole. “It’s delicious, Sophia. Thank you.”

  Sophia’s eyes softened, the tightness in her features almost gone. “I miss her. She was my best friend.”

  “She used to say you were her sister,” she whispered. Which had made Sophia’s coldness to her after her family’s deaths that much more painful.

  Sophia bowed her head, her eyes closed. Carlo encircled his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder.

  “She was so worried about you,” Sophia said, her voice wavering. She leaned into Carlo. “I judged you. I let my own pain and past get in the way of doing what your mom would have wanted me to do. I’m concerned about my son, but it’s past time I honored her memory by accepting you.”

  “I understand. I’m not proud of some of my choices. I can’t change them. But I can change by letting go of the shame. I’ve asked for forgiveness and I’ve felt some peace about it. Joey’s helped me with that. He’s a good man. I want to make a new life, a life I can feel proud of, one my parents would have been glad about too.” She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

  “Did you embroider that?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes.” She held it out. “Mamá did this side.” She fingered the delicate floral stitch-work. “And I did this part last year.” She turned it and showed the vines she’d stitched around the edges. She’d kept all the handkerchiefs Mamá had given her packed away in a thin fabric case, only pulling them out last year. It had brought her some healing, comfort, to add her stitches beside Mamá’s.

  “Beautiful,” Sophia said. “Your mother would have been proud.”

  “Thank you.” Ariella paused, fingering the thin fabric. “I’m so grateful for your family, for how they accepted my family, and how they’re welcoming Layla and me. I have the career I’ve wanted. I have Layla. And I’ve worked hard to be the best woman I can. But I want family too. Can you give me a chance, Sophia?” She kept her gaze steady, hoping.

  Sophia glanced at Carlo then met Ariella’s gaze. Her look was tender, but her mouth still held a tight wariness at the corners. “Yes. If you can forgive me too.” Carlo rubbed her back.

  Ariella rose and Sophia met her with open arms. They hugged. Sophia’s back was tense so Ariella pulled away.

  “You still don’t want me to be with Joe, do you?” She tried to keep her voice soft, but her no-nonsense lawyer tone hardened her words. But she preferred to have things out there.

  “It seems he’s not listening to me… But, no. I think he needs someone…softer, a helpmate. His job is so stressful.” She sat back down.

  The front doorbell rang. Carlo walked out to answer it.

  “I know. I want to be that person for Joe.”

  Other footsteps joined Carlo’s sounding from the hall. Ariella turned.

  Joe and Carlo walked in. Joe wore his uniform and he was a handsome sight in the dark navy pants and shirt. Her chest felt lighter, because he was here.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all,” Joe said. “So, when Dad and Grandpop called me about this lunch, I thought I’d drop in during my break.”

  “Have you had lunch?” Sophia said.

  Joe shook his head and sat next to Ariella. Carlo set a plate in front of Joe, who served himself some food.

  Joe began eating. Ariella smiled at him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Sure, thanks. Just water.” He watched her as she rose.

  She went to the cabinet, got a glass, filled it, and walked back to the table. She set Joe’s glass down, and sat again.

  Sophia glanced at Ariella and then at Joe. “Joe, honey, I’m sorry. You’re my son and I’ll always worry about you, but I know you’re a man now.” She fingered the tablecloth.

  Joe looked at her. He stood, went to Sophia, and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

  Sophia nodded and patted his hand. “Eat your lunch. I know you don’t have long.”

  Joe smiled at Ariella as he sat back down. He ate a few bites. His radio went off. He listened for a moment. “Gotta go.” He waved to his parents and kissed Ariella’s cheek. “See you on New Year’s?” he whispered.

  “Yes.” She caressed his arm as he walked away. Things were resolved with Sophia. And Joe had wanted to see her. A fizzy feeling lifted her. Things were working out, just like Joe said.

  ***

  After dinner that night, she and Layla sat in Grandpop’s small living room with him, watching Miracle on 34th Street. Layla seemed to have fallen asleep on Ariella, who had her cuddled next to her. Nico, the security guy, stepped into the room, frowning. He glanced at Layla.

  “What’s going on?” Grandpop said in a quiet voice.

  “Reports that a guy in Joey’s unit’s been shot. I can’t find out if it’s him.”

  Layla stiffened against Ariella, her breath stopped for a moment. She must have not really been asleep.

  Grandpop leaned forward. “Find out.”

  Nico nodded and strode from the room.

  “Layla?” Ariella smoothed her hair.

  Layla gripped her arm, still huddled against her. A few tears fell onto Ariella’s arm. “He’ll die, just like Daddy.” Layla’s voice was small.

  Her limbs felt heavy. She stroked Layla’s hair. “No, honey.” But she didn’t know it wasn’t Joe, couldn’t promise Layla that Joe was okay.

  “He’ll die. He said…” Layla’s tears choked the words. She cried and cried.

  “It’s okay, mí niña.”

  Layla shook her head and huddled herself into a ball. Ariella tried to take her in her arms, but Layla’s little body was stiff. Ariella glanced at Grandpop, her eyes searching his for some help.

  “Your mom is right, Layla. He’s okay.”

  But Layla wouldn’t be comforted. Ariella held her as best she could. Her stomach knotted. How could she get involved with Joe, if this was how Layla reacted to even a hint of the risk he was in every day? She couldn’t do that to her baby.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Joey rubbed his forehead. He opened his car door and took a deep breath. The
quiet rhythm of the nighttime city around him made the past twelve hours seem even more surreal. He just wanted to get some sleep, but his stomach told him “no.” That energy bar he’d had hours ago wasn’t enough, especially not after this kind of day. He plodded into the back door of Sal’s.

  “Joe, that you?” Uncle Sal peered from down the hall. The restaurant’s lights, which should have been dimmed at this hour, gleamed from the open door.

  “Yeah. What’re you still doing down here?”

  “What’d’ya think?” Oh boy, must be family—that was the only time Uncle Sal lapsed into slang. “How about something to eat? I’ve got your favorite warming.”

  “Thanks.” A bowl of minestrone and some bread on the side might just be worth having to see whoever might be here.

  He walked into the restaurant. His parents stood together with Grandpop and Ariella nearby. She was a sight, in a classy grey pantsuit. She looked every inch the lawyer she was, but the sweet glance she gave him peppered buckshot at the barriers he’d made.

  “Joe, son, we’re glad you’re okay.” Dad placed a hand on his shoulder.

  Mom put her hand over her mouth then hugged him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She released him.

  “Holding up, eh?” Grandpop gave him an appraising look.

  He shrugged. “Sure. Thanks for letting everyone know I was okay.” Tim, who’d been shot, wasn’t okay. He rubbed his eyes.

  Uncle Sal emerged from the kitchen with food on a tray. “Sit.”

  Joey sank into the nearest chair. His skin prickled to touch Ariella, but if he held her now, he wouldn’t let go. Uncle Sal set the steaming bowl, its tomato-y scent making his stomach rumble, in front of him followed by a basket of bread, a small plate of olive oil, and a cup of coffee off to the side. He ate a few bites of the warming soup.

  “Coffee’s decaf,” Uncle Sal said.

  Joey nodded. His shoulders hunched, heavy from the feeling of being watched.

  Uncle Sal motioned his hand. “Everyone, sit. Sis, why don’t you help me bring coffees out.”

  Mom nodded. Dad, Ariella, and Grandpop sat at the table with Joey.

  “What brings you all here?” Joey asked in between bites.

  “Ariella,” Dad said. “And, of course, we all wanted to see you’re okay.”

  “I’m a cop, Dad. This stuff happens. You know that from Uncle Max and cousin Jim.” Still, he himself needed a reminder.

  “Yeah, well…”

  He was being a little harsh. Stuff happened, but this was his first up-close experience, and he was raw from it, seeing his fellow cop and former classmate, Tim, die in front of him.

  “Joe,” Grandpop said in a conciliatory tone. “Given how we left things the other day, we felt we needed to see you. To apologize. To let you know we’re family, we’re on your side.”

  He tore some bread off, dipped it in his soup and chewed a bite. He’d heard those kind of words so many times. And every time, eventually, more of the same came around. Still, he loved his family. His methods of distancing, compartmentalizing, had seemed effective, but not when it came to Ariella.

  “Made up with Mom earlier. I accept your apology. But I don’t get why you all made the choices you did.” He glanced at Grandpop.

  “I did it to protect Ariella.”

  “From me?” He clenched his jaw.

  “No. Because she asked me to not tell anyone. Even your Aunt Teresa didn’t know the details.”

  What could he say to that? Part of him said he was Grandpop’s great nephew, so he should have put him before Ariella’s request, but more of him respected what Grandpop had done for Ariella, and her need to make her own decisions. He didn’t like some of her decisions, but he respected her and…he still loved her. But he was in the middle of the street about whether that love would be enough.

  “That couldn’t have been easy,” he said. Taking another bite of soup, he glanced at Grandpop and Ariella.

  She squeezed Grandpop’s hand, her eyes alight with gratitude. Then she clasped her hands and met his gaze.

  “My Teresa understood.” Grandpop fingered the wedding ring he still wore.

  “She was a great lady.”

  “And so’s this one.” Grandpop glanced at Ariella.

  Joey nodded, but said nothing more. The food warmed his body, but exhaustion flooded him too. The kind of bone-weary tired that wasn’t just physical. Mom and Uncle Sal came out with coffees for everyone. They all sat, Uncle Sal and Dad keeping the conversation going as the rest sipped their coffees and Joey finished his meal.

  Grandpop rose after the coffees were drunk. “It’s late, and Joey needs to sleep.”

  Dad rose too, and waited for Mom to stand, holding her chair for her. Joey got to his feet, meeting Mom’s fierce hug, and Dad’s lighter one.

  “We’re glad you’re okay. See you soon?” Mom said.

  “In a few days. I’ve got work.”

  Mom nodded and they walked out. Uncle Sal cleared up and said goodnight. Joey thanked him. He stood rooted to the spot, his whole being needing Ariella, needing her warmth, her softness.

  “Shall we?” Grandpop held out his arm to Ariella.

  “Don’t go,” Joey croaked out. He grasped her hand.

  She studied him then nodded.

  “Call me in the morning and I’ll send Nico down with the car. Marcella is with Layla.”

  “Nico’s back?” Joey asked.

  Grandpop nodded.

  “Joe and I do have some things to discuss,” Ariella said. “But maybe I should come back in a bit.”

  “If Layla misses you, I’ll take care of her, and Marcella will too. You know how tired she was. She’ll sleep till morning. If she wakes before you get home, we’ll tell her you went for an early walk, eh?”

  Ariella kissed his cheek. Grandpop patted hers and raised his hand as he strode out.

  Joey pulled her closer. He kissed her forehead. She leaned into him. Sliding his arm around her waist, he led her upstairs.

  A dimmed light was on in his apartment. He left it on when he knew he’d be home late. Ariella caressed his hand as they walked into the living room.

  “Can I do anything for you?” she asked.

  “You’re here. That’s all I need.” Damned if he didn’t mean it like he’d never meant anything else.

  She leaned into him and kissed him. He breathed into their kiss, letting it overtake him, mellow the tension, the ache. He gently parted from her.

  “You’re tired,” she said. With a tug, she took his arm in hers and walked him to the bedroom.

  “I’ve got an extra toothbrush in the bathroom,” he said. “And here’s a pajama shirt.” He pulled out a pair of cotton pajamas and gave her the top.

  She took it and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He changed into the pajama bottoms. When she entered the room again, he went into the bathroom. Once he came back in, she was in bed. She fit there, her long frame filling the empty space he usually crowded with pillows. Her dark hair fanned out on the light blue pillow case. He slid in beside her. She snuggled next to him and he enclosed her in his arms, breathing in her light scent, his body melting into hers.

  Closing his eyes, he edged closer to her. She caressed his chest then stilled. Keeping his arm around her, he fell asleep.

  He woke on feeling Ariella move away from him. The early morning light haloed in through the blinds.

  She kissed him quickly. “Be right back.” She slid from the bed.

  Desire energized him watching her stride out, her long legs gleaming, fully exposed under his pajama shirt. When she came back in, she hopped into bed, eyeing him. He caught a glimpse of her perky breasts as the shirt gapped. Pulling her onto him, he kissed her. She responded, straddling him and returning his embrace.

  While she peppered him with kisses, she reached her hand down and stroked him. He tugged at her panties. She stilled his hands.

  “Let me,” she said. With a seductive shimmy, she eased off h
er panties and tossed the shirt aside. Kneeling beside him, she slid her hands down his legs, taking his pants off with the motion. He grasped her arm, wanting to pull her to him. “You relax.” She kissed his arm, placing it by his side.

  Like relaxing was possible with her sexiness right here with him, not just some dream like she had been for the last nine years. But when she stroked his length, tonguing him, a special relaxation washed over him. Her mouth, warm and wet, hardened him until he pulsated with her rhythm.

  “I want you.” His voice was low and raspy. He needed to be inside her, to feel her, to caress her nipples and watch her pleasure.

  She kissed her way up his chest, sliding on top of him again. Holding his hands, she eased herself onto his shaft. He trembled at her moist opening. She took him inch by inch, her focused and delighted expression causing him to grip her hands harder. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen, or experienced, and she wanted him.

  She took him all the way inside her and began a steady, slow dance on top of him. He let out a breath, keeping all his attention on her, on their lovemaking.

  “Ariella,” he said. He met her movements and cupped her breasts, thumbing her pebbled nipples. She cried out and leaned into him, her inner walls gripping him. With increased speed, he kept her now-lost rhythm as she spent herself on him, collapsing into his hands. He came too, both of them riding the peak of climax. Easing her down onto his chest, he caressed her hair. She moaned quietly. He closed his eyes. Scooting, she moved her face next to his, kissing his jaw line.

  He let out a heavy breath. That was intense, their making love.

  He needed to get ready for work. But he had to tell her first. “I love you, Ariella.” He was willing to dare the dream, to try. She and Layla were worth it. And life could be short.