Fired (Worked Up Book 1)

by Cora Brent

  “So what happened in New York?” she asked with curiosity.

  I thought about how to answer that. “What happened was what had to happen,” I said. “How about I take you to dinner tonight and tell you all about it?”

  She poked me in the chest. “We have to work tonight, mister. You’ve got a freezer to fix.”

  I shrugged. “A man can’t work every hour of the day. There are bigger priorities at stake. And I heard about this really great pizzeria I want to take you to.”

  “I’d like that,” she said quietly. Then she glanced around at the landscape of downtown Phoenix. “So where do we go from here? All the love stories on the big screen never cover what comes after the hero carries his girl off into the sunset.”

  I glanced up at the blue sky. “It’s only early afternoon. Sunset won’t happen for hours, so I guess we’ll need to wait around awhile to find out. Maybe we should find a bench.”

  Melanie kissed my cheek. “Always the wise guy.”

  I took her hand. “You really want me to tell you what happens next?”

  She batted her pretty eyelashes. “Please do.”

  I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it gallantly. “You already know. What happens next is us.”

  Soon enough we did head back to Esposito’s. I held the door open for Melanie, and she tilted her head back for another kiss. I was glad to give it to her.

  As evening approached I told the kitchen staff I was taking a few hours off. Then I formally knocked on the door to the office. When Melanie appeared, I held my hand out.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  She laced her fingers through mine, and I led her out the front door of Espo 2. We stopped on the sidewalk, then turned around, and walked right back inside like we were any other couple who’d just arrived for a dinner date.

  “We’d like the finest table in the house, please,” I informed Patsy, who was standing by at the hostess desk.

  Patsy winked and grabbed a couple of menus. “Right this way,” she said, and led us to a cozy table in the back.

  Melanie blushed as I held her chair for her. Then we both settled in and looked over the menus we already knew by heart.

  “I believe I’ll have the cheese pizza,” Melanie said after she scanned the menu. “I’ve heard it’s quite tasty. What about you, Dominic?”

  “I think I’ll try the same thing.” I set the menu down, and looked up to find Jessica, one of the servers, staring down at us.

  “Um, I’m sorry to bother you guys,” she stammered, “but Tim said to let you know that the kitchen is nearly out of mushrooms and basil. They need more right away.”

  I shrugged. “That’s just going to have to wait.” I took Melanie’s small hand and pressed my lips to her soft skin. “I’m busy.”

  “Okay,” Jessica said with some uncertainty. She glanced back toward the kitchen, then looked our way with a smile. “So, are you ready to order?”

  “We’ll have a large cheese pizza,” Melanie said. Her eyes were dancing, and she looked positively radiant. I loved knowing that I was the one who made her happy. At the same time I kind of felt like a dirty bastard because I was already making plans for what was going to happen when I got her alone.

  “Send over your best bottle of wine, too,” I told Jessica. “It’s a special occasion.”

  Melanie giggled and squeezed my hand.

  “Dom, do you think you’ll ever get tired of pizza?” she asked in a teasing voice.

  “Never,” I said without hesitation. “And you?”

  She shook her head and gave me a serious look. “Never.”

  We stayed at that table for two hours. We went through a full pizza pie and three-quarters of a bottle of wine. I told her everything. About Beth, about Steven, about yesterday’s events in New York. She told me about running into her ex and about how much she missed her sister, Lucy. She also admitted that she still had trouble processing the grief from her parents’ deaths and how Donna’s funeral dredged up all those emotions again. When she shyly asked if we could try to make her father’s legendary tamales soon, I promised it would be a top priority.

  As my girl tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear while a sweet smile played on her lips, I thought about how I’d been so wrong about something important.

  Once, I had earnestly wished that I’d met Melanie Cruz in another time, in another place.

  Now I realized that it always had to be this time. It always had to be this place.

  EPILOGUE

  MELANIE

  Fourteen Months Later

  The party was pretty much over, and it wasn’t even midnight. It had been a small family affair at Espo 2, in any case. There would be some cleanup to do, but tomorrow was New Year’s Day, and the restaurant would be closed so it didn’t matter.

  Gio and Tara had been here earlier, but they left when little Leah started to get tired. At nearly two years old, she was a sassy, dimpled little thing who managed to charm everyone she met. Tonight her doting parents announced that she would be a big sister next summer.

  “Don’t worry.” Tara laughed as I hugged her. “I’ll find a way to squeeze into my bridesmaid dress in April.”

  “If not, we can just drape you in a very large lavender sheet,” her husband suggested cheerfully. Tara made a face and then silenced Gio with a kiss.

  The year had passed so quickly. As I sat at a corner table with a glass of wine and played with the ring on my left hand, I could hardly believe we were on the verge of starting a new one. I held my hand out and smiled at the way the candlelight got caught in the sparkling diamond. Dominic had proposed on my birthday this past May. He also sold his condo in Tempe and bought a quaint Tudor-style cottage in an historic neighborhood two miles away from Espo 2. I loved living there with him. Luke and Lando didn’t seem to mind it either. They spent the bulk of their time idly lounging on the bench at the front picture window and waiting for us to come home.

  “Do you want some, Melanie?” asked a sweet voice, and I realized ten-year-old Alice was standing beside me holding out a plate.

  “Sure,” I said, surprised that I’d been so immersed in my thoughts I hadn’t heard her approach. I had thought everyone was still in the kitchen, rolling old-fashioned zeppoli in powdered sugar.

  The girl watched me closely as I chewed and swallowed.

  “They’re delicious,” I said truthfully, reaching for another one.

  Alice smiled. She seized any opportunity to be in the kitchen, begging her father to teach her everything he knew. Her fourteen-year-old sister was slightly less impressed with kitchen activities, but Maya liked the restaurant, and on special nights like tonight, she was happy to be at her father’s side.

  It was nice having more family around. Dominic and Gio had extended a very generous job offer to their cousin, Steven. As soon as his daughters were done with school last summer, he’d moved them all to Phoenix. Alice and Maya were sweet, affectionate girls, and I went out of my way for them, taking them shopping or just lending a sympathetic ear to the problems of childhood and adolescence. We motherless girls needed to stick together.

  Soon there would be even more family around to keep us company. Lucy had called last week on Christmas Eve to tell me she was moving here. Her museum had suffered some huge funding cuts, and staff was the first thing on the chopping block. It might be in poor taste to start cheering when your sister is delivering her bad news, but I couldn’t help it. I was overjoyed she’d be close by. Lucy didn’t mind my enthusiasm. She laughed and asked if she could get hired to serve pizzas if her other job leads didn’t pan out. Of course, I’d told her, even though I knew she was kidding. That was what families did. We took care of each other.

  Alice and Maya wanted to go home and watch some New Year’s Eve special on television, so Steven herded them out with lots of waving and Happy New Year wishes. I waved back, noting how Steven had changed since he moved here six months ago. He looked like a man who’d had a painful weight lift
ed off his chest. He seemed happy. He even had a tan in the middle of the desert winter.

  “Bye, Stevie,” Dominic called as he dried his hands on a white towel. “Happy New Year, girls.”

  When the door whispered closed, Dominic turned his attention to me.

  “What are you doing over there in the corner?”

  I poured another glass of wine. “Getting trashed.”

  He chuckled and sank into a chair at a neighboring table.

  “You’re too far away,” I complained, crossing my legs in what I hoped was a sexy pose.

  Dominic’s eyes traveled up my legs. He shifted in the chair and spread his knees apart, patting his lap. “Come here, then.”

  A delicious lick of arousal rolled through my belly. That was what he did to me. He could get me going with one look, and he knew it.

  I decided to play up my sexy temptress side. I stood up with a toss of my long hair, and I let him watch as I rolled my hands over the fabric of my sleek black dress. When I paused with my palms over my breasts, he shifted again. I knew that hungry look in his eyes. Another few seconds of this, and he would sprint over here and tear something off with his teeth. That was exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

  Picking up my wineglass and grinning over my accomplishment, I took a step toward him. Then the heel of my right shoe broke, and I toppled like a stack of bricks. Luckily I dropped right into Dominic’s lap. Miraculously I managed to avoid twisting my ankle or spilling my wine.

  “How much wine have you had?” Dominic laughed, pulling me closer.

  “Two glasses.”

  “Two glasses of red wine make you drunk?”

  “Mmhmm.” I played with the top button of his shirt.

  “Only you, Melanie.” He kissed my neck. We made out for a few minutes, then I laid my head on his shoulder with a sigh.

  “You tired?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair.

  “I was just thinking.”

  “I was thinking too. You were naked in my thoughts. Same for you?”

  “No, I don’t often fantasize about my naked body.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  I pinched him. “Knock it off. I was thinking about how much our circle has grown. It’s really special, Dom, what you guys have built. It’s not just about a restaurant or two.”

  “Or three,” he said. “I was talking to Gio tonight about scouting out places in Scottsdale. Not this coming year, but maybe the year after.”

  “Espo 3?”

  He shrugged and laughed. “Why not? Right now it’s just talk.”

  “Donna would have loved this,” I said, thinking not just of the restaurant but the way the family had come together again, even after all the heartache and long years of painful silence.

  “She would have,” Dominic agreed, and he swiveled his neck to stare up at a picture on the wall.

  Dominic had found that photo among Donna’s things following her death. We’d had the image blown up so it could hang on the wall of Espo 2. It was a picture of Dominic’s grandparents. They were young, maybe in their late twenties. They stood in front of the old Esposito’s with their arms around each other, beaming proudly. It seemed only fitting that they would be here on the wall, watching over the legacy they’d created.

  “Are we still taking our honeymoon in New York?” I asked.

  “Baby, I already told you I’ll take you anywhere.” He slid his hand under the hem of my dress.

  I batted my eyelashes. “What about your promise to never touch me again at work?”

  He snorted. “Broken a thousand times by now. You want me to stop?”

  I kissed him. “Don’t you dare.”

  His hand traveled higher, and his breathing grew heavier. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “Good.” I smiled. “Because I’m never taking this ring off. By the way, I was thinking about the menu for the reception. I don’t want any of that fancy caviar garbage the wedding planner keeps trying to talk us into. We need to serve pizza. Pizza and tamales.”

  He took his hand out from under my dress, gave me a funny look, then laughed out loud. “Pizza and tamales? I guess we ought to pass out heartburn meds for dessert.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m serious.”

  “No,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful is what you are. Pizza and tamales it is.”

  I raised my wineglass to the photo on the wall. “To family,” I said as I toasted Donna and Leo Esposito.

  Dominic took the wineglass out of my hand and kissed me tenderly.

  “To us,” he whispered. “To forever.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Forever beholden to my husband and life partner who didn’t hesitate when I broke the news that I wished to quit my accounting job and write full-time. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Go for it.” Ever since then he’s put up with strange and often grueling working hours, tons of last-minute takeout dinners, and the sounds of me muttering to myself endlessly as I test out character dialogue.

  To my kids, thank you for being my pride and joy. You will always come first.

  To my agent, Kimberly Brower, who has been so amazingly supportive of this story and always maintains infinite enthusiasm for my work.

  To the Montlake team for believing in this project and patiently working with me to craft the best story possible.

  To the readers . . . your passion, your support, and your boundless zeal for the unique worlds found only in the pages of a book inspire all of us to keep creating.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cora Brent is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Gentry Boys series. She was born in a cold climate but escaped as soon as it was legally possible. These days, she lives in the Arizona desert with her husband, two kids, and a prickly pear cactus she has affectionately named “Spot.” Cora’s closet is filled with boxes of unfinished stories that date back to her 1980s childhood (someday she fully intends to finish her first masterpiece about a pink horse that plays baseball), but in the meantime, she’s consumed with her romance novels.

  For more on the author and her work, visit www.corabrent.com, or connect with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/CoraBrentAuthor.