Chapter 26
Emily
I’ve had the best day. I can’t remember the last time I hung out with the girls. Any girls. I had a few casual friendships back in Queensland, and Sonia from La Riviera was always trying to get me to go out with her, but Mick never allowed me.
He said I needed to make an effort to get to know the other old ladies at the club—that he didn’t trust outsiders—but those women weren’t really my people. I’m far from a snob, but I’m pretty sure most of them didn’t even like me, especially Daisy, the club president’s wife.
Don’t let her sweet name fool you; she’s more like a Venus flytrap than a pretty flower. Since he and Nathan were best friends, Mick was forever trying to pair me up with her.
The problem was that Daisy had a mouth that could make a sailor blush and a habit of getting into fistfights with the other women, as if it were her daily cardio. If I’m being completely honest, she scares the ever-loving crap out of me.
I remember the first time we met. She eyed me from head to toe, then burst out laughing.
“Where the fuck did you find this one, Muzzle? Sunday school? She’s got that squeaky-clean-soul look, and it makes me want to smudge it.
” Then she bared her teeth at me, snapped them together a few times for extra emphasis, and added, “This place is going to eat you alive, little girl. Men like Muzzle break women like you for fun.”
She turned out to be right, on the last part anyway. Maybe I should’ve heeded her warning.
Arabella and Lucia, though, are the complete opposite.
They’re grounded and normal. They’re sisters, but they guard their people fiercely, and today has made me realise I’ve become part of their circle.
From the first day Dominic took me to Lucia’s house, I felt like they understood me without effort.
By the time Peach and I dry off, get changed back into our clothes, and head to the kitchen, the table is already set, and the pizza guy is at the front door.
Romeo and Dante help the young guy carry all the food in, and I watch Dante pluck a few hundred-dollar bills out of his gold money clip and hand them over as a tip.
He always tips the staff well when he dines at La Riviera. I miss working there. I miss Massimo, Sonia, and the rest of the crew. I hope this mess is sorted out soon so I can go back to work.
I’ll forever be ashamed that I let Mick treat me the way he did, and I hate that my poor decisions unknowingly brought trouble to these people.
There are two high stacks of pizza boxes sitting on the kitchen island, which feels like serious overkill for the number of people here. Then again, I’ve seen how these people eat, lavishly, and with enough food present to feed a small Italian village.
Arabella’s busy transferring pasta dishes and salads onto serving trays, so when Lil’ Peach wanders over to her uncle and climbs onto his lap, I step further into the kitchen and offer to help.
Dante picks up one of the stacks of pizza boxes and sets it down in front of Dominic. Immediately, all the men crack up like he’s just delivered the punchline of the century.
“You’re a comedian,” Dominic grumbles, which only makes them laugh harder.
My gaze flickers to Arabella, and when she rolls her eyes, I know she’s not privy to the joke either.
It’s dark by the time we arrive home. We spent the whole day at the Mancinis. Peach was so exhausted she slept the entire drive back. The poor thing could barely keep her eyes open while I helped Dominic feed, bathe, and tuck her in to bed.
Arabella invited us to stay for dinner, but since Peach skipped her daytime nap, she was cranky as hell, so we figured it was better to leave. Arabella packed up some leftovers from lunch, which we had for dinner.
I sat on the side of the bath feeding her little spoonfuls of pasta, while her uncle washed all the chlorine and remaining sunscreen from her tiny body.
I jumped in the shower after that, and it wasn’t until I stripped off that I realised how sunburnt I was. It didn’t seem that bad earlier.
Now, under the bathroom light, I look like a damn tomato.
I’m burnt from just above my elbows—right where my rashie ended—straight down to my hands.
My face and the back of my neck aren’t much better, even though I wore a hat.
That must be from the sun bouncing off the water, determined to cook me no matter how much I protected myself.
I’ve been sun smart ever since I first moved to Queensland and came home from the beach looking like a full-bodied lobster.
The little blisters down my arms and torso eventually merged into one big one, and then I passed out from heatstroke.
I love the water, always have, but after that, it took me a while to work up the confidence to go back out in the sun.
My skin is fair, unlike Lucia’s and Arabella’s. They just seemed to get browner as the day went on. I slapped on sunscreen a few times today, but clearly not enough.
If I’d known I was going to end up like this, I would’ve asked Dominic to swing past the pharmacy on the way home so I could grab some aloe vera cream. I doubt anything would be open now.
Slipping into my underwear and pulling a loose satin nighty over my head, I go in search of Dominic to see if he has anything in the house I can use to cool my skin.
I find him in the kitchen, standing over the open pizza box, munching on a slice of cold pizza.
His eyes snap up to me, and he freezes mid-bite, his gaze dragging from my face down the length of my body in one slow, deliberate sweep.
I don’t usually walk around so scantily dressed, not since that first night when I found him in the kitchen in his underwear, but my skin is stinging too much to care.
I take a step closer and hold out my red arms. “Wouldn’t have any aloe vera cream on hand, would you?”
“Christ, Emily,” he grumbles, dropping his half-eaten piece of pizza back into the box and rounding the kitchen island. “Didn’t you put any sunscreen on today?”
“Twice,” I reply with a wince when his hand gently grasps my wrist.
“Shit.”
“If I’d known it was this bad, I would’ve asked you to stop so I could get something for it.”
“I don’t have any aloe vera cream. I think I have some Vaseline, though.”
I grimace. “Vaseline won’t help this.”
“Mrs B, the lady who used to watch Lil’ Peach, your tea-drinking soul sister, has an aloe vera plant in her garden. Would that help?’
“Tea-drinking soul sister,” I repeat with a snort.
He lifts one shoulder as the corners of his lips tilt into a cheeky smirk. “Do you want me to go over and get some?”
“I thought you said she was in an assisted living facility.”
“Yeah, she is, but I can ask the new owners if they’d let me cut off a few pieces.”
“You’d do that? You’d go over and ask them?”
He releases my hand and scrubs his palm over his short hair. “Typically, no. I’ve never met them, but I’d do it for you if it’ll help.”
“It would, but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
He audibly sighs, turning to open one of the drawers, and pulls out a pair of scissors. “You didn’t ask, Em, I offered.”
I’m standing at the sink, drinking a glass of water, when Dominic returns.
I glance over my shoulder when I hear him enter, and a smile curves my lips as he holds up four long aloe vera leaves. He looks proud, like he’s just accomplished something heroic.
There’s a faint pink tinge on his cheeks, and for a split second, I wonder if maybe he got a little sunburned too. But then I remember the men stayed inside after lunch while we went back out to the pool. Is he blushing?
I turn to face him as he closes the distance between us.
“They didn’t mind you taking some?”
“I was going to cut a few off without them noticing,” he grumbles, “but they pulled into the driveway as I was crossing their lawn. When I told them why I wanted it, the wife thought it was sweet, which pissed me the fuck off.”
“She’s not wrong,” I say, rolling my lips to hide the smile when he grunts.
He grabs a knife from the drawer, sets three of the leaves on the countertop, and slices down the centre of the fourth. “Give me your arm,” he says.
I extend it, and suck in a sharp breath as the sticky gel hits my skin. Within seconds, the burn begins to ease, a cool wash spreading over the angry red. “Oh, God, that feels good,” I breathe.
Dominic freezes, his eyes snapping from my arm to my face. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask. “Say it feels good? It does, I’m not lying.”
“Don’t say it in that breathy fucking voice,” he snaps.
My eyes narrow. “Okay then, jeez. No need to bite my head off.”
He clears his throat as his eyes move up to lock with mine. “It’s just—”
“Just what?”
“You’re too close,” he admits with a tight jaw.
“I can do it myself then,” I reply, but my backside is pushed up hard against the sink, so it’s not like I can move. “I never asked you to do it, Dominic, you offered.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t understand, do I smell or something? I just got out of the shower.”
He glances off to the side before saying, “You smell like cupcakes, Em. You always smell like damn cupcakes.”
“And that offends you? You devoured the cupcakes Peach and I made the other day.”
When his gaze returns to mine, I can see the conflict in his eyes as his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. “No … it affects me,” he admits, tilting his head back with a frustrated groan. “You do something to me, Emily. I shouldn’t be this affected by you.”
I stare up at him, still not fully grasping where he’s going with this.
He releases my wrist, and I watch his nostrils flare as he exhales. He slices another aloe vera leaf down the middle before moving to my other arm.
I dip my eyes, still confused, trying to make sense of his words, but then I suck in a sharp breath when I notice the bulge pressing against the front of his jeans.
“Oh,” I murmur, snapping my gaze back up to his face.
“What?” he asks.