Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GIOVANNI
The jackass jumps about two feet when my grandmother speaks through the vent, eyeing the wall like he thinks the house is haunted by the ghosts of Italians past. Then he does the wise thing and takes off as if his ass just caught fire.
No doubt, the nonnas are about to storm into the room, but Bianca shuts the door behind him and turns toward me.
“Why’d you do that?” she asks.
I gesture at the door. Beyond it, I can hear rapid-fire conversation, so it would seem the nonnas are ushering Mr. Mayor off with plenty of commentary.
Good. It shouldn’t be easy for him. He’s a prick, no question about it.
I knew it from what Bianca said, obviously, but the moment he opened his mouth, his smarmy-little-fuck status was verified.
He deserves worse than an inquisition from a couple of nosy nonnas.
A man like that should be fed to the wolves.
Bianca’s still staring at me, so I say, “Tell off that asshole? I wanted to. It felt really good. I enjoyed every minute of it.”
“You know what I mean.” Her voice is almost shaking, and I realize she’s genuinely distressed. Crap. I didn’t mean to upset her. I hadn’t even known it was within my power to do so.
“I thought you wanted me to pretend we were in a relationship.”
“Sure, but you went above and beyond. You didn’t have to cut a deal with him.”
I laugh, because although I hadn’t gone into that conversation intending to do that, there’s no denying it happened. “I think I did. Mr. Mayor doesn’t talk in any other language, and I liked watching him squirm. Didn’t you?”
She smiles despite herself. “I’ve never seen that expression on his face before.”
“You think he was sweating? Because I think he was sweating.”
She places a hand on my bare arm, her simple touch radiating through my body. “Definitely sweating. Thank you, but I know you don’t want people watching you…talking about you. We don’t have to do all those things together.”
“You challenged me to make an apple pie better than The Clean Plate Club’s, and you know I like an audience. Now I’ll have one. Do we have enough time to plan this thing? I guess I should have asked first.”
She’s still staring at me with those big brown eyes. They look almost liquid now. “You were magnificent.”
Let it never be said that I don’t have an ego, because those words pump blood straight to my cock.
Admittedly, it might be because she said it, but I decide not to entertain that possibility. Still, I’m an idiot, so I say, “Will you admit I was magnificent last night too? Way more than a seven out of ten?”
She gives me a mischievous smile. “Maybe I have a more exacting scale than you’re used to.”
“You’re an exacting woman, so I’d have no trouble believing that if I hadn’t just met your dipshit ex. There’s no way he ranks higher than a seven.”
She holds my gaze, standing up to the challenge, exactly the way I knew she would. “Just because he’s a dipshit doesn’t mean he’s bad in bed.”
I clasp a hand over my chest. “You wound me, Bianca. Especially if you have no intention of actually letting me prove myself to you.”
The air between us thickens, and I curse myself for being too impulsive for anyone’s good. She’s going to tell me to get bent, and I’ll probably deserve it.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” she finally asks.
I shrug. “Yeah, a little.”
She raises her eyebrows. “But you’d still fuck me?”
Leave it to her to put it out there.
My cock has a Pavlovian response to the word fuck, but I take in a long, slow breath. I let it out, reminding myself—and my cock—that nothing is going to happen between Bianca and me right now, and it would be best if nothing happens between us ever.
“I’d consider it if you asked nicely,” I say. “I promise it would be a ten out of ten experience.”
She shakes her head, possibly amused and possibly disgusted. “I genuinely can’t tell whether you’re joking, but I told you, I’m not in any place to date anyone, and my one qualification for a random hookup is that the guy doesn’t sleep in the room next to mine.”
I snap my fingers theatrically. “I wish you’d told me that before I told both of our exes we’re sleeping together.”
“You told your ex, too?”
She sounds interested, which pleases me.
“I emailed her the news after she offered to leave her husband for me,” I say. “So hopefully she won’t try to climb into my bed again.”
“I wouldn’t mind having the chance to tell her off,” Bianca says, her eyes lit up.
God, she’s gorgeous. I really wish she weren’t. My life is already such a shitshow. It would be nice if something were simple, the way it was yesterday, with just the two of us sitting in the dark, enjoying the beauty of the night.
“I’d like to see you do that,” I admit. “I have a feeling that would be a ten out of ten experience too. You are good at putting people in their place.”
I was serious. If there were a reality TV program that showed Bianca Murphy ripping people a new one night after night, I’d watch every single episode on repeat.
She smiles at me, but it drifts off her face too soon.
“Have you actually looked at the posts online?” she asks. “I’m sure people are going to show up at the apple barn today. They’re going to want to see you.”
I rub the knot at the base of my neck. “I haven’t looked, but I have a pretty good idea what they say. We’re madly in love, I’m hiding out in your farm, and wouldn’t it be a great thing for hundreds of people to barge in and introduce themselves to us?”
“More or less. A few people said I wasn’t hot enough for the great Shirtless Chef.”
“Ridiculous. It must have been Janine using different usernames. No one who wasn’t jealous would say something so stupid.”
She smiles. “Sure, we’ll go with that. But what are we going to do?”
“Are you saying my problem is now ours?”
“It is, yeah,” she says with a decisive nod. “You made my problem yours, and I’m making yours mine. How do you want to handle this? Should we close the farm to visitors today? We opened early yesterday for the hard launch, but we usually open the apple barn and pumpkin patch at twelve.”
That’s only a couple of hours away…
Maybe no one will show up, and we’re worrying about nothing, but odds are, people will come.
“Why don’t we tell them I really did get amnesia? It’ll make for a great story, and Eva will feel vindicated.”
Bianca’s smile is more half-hearted this time. She’s undoubtedly sick of my bullshit, so I add, “We’ll go with the story we came up with outside. They’ll like that. It’s less teleromanzi and more Smut Slut romancey, but it’ll do.”
Her mouth twists to the side. “They’ll want to know when to expect a new video from you.”
“When I know, I’ll tell them,” I say with a lightness I don’t feel.
“You need to learn to make an apple pie as good as the one at The Clean Plate Club before the pie contest. That would make a good video.”
A good video that would publicize Apple Ridge in general, and her family farm in particular, no doubt.
“We’ll see.” My voice is chilly, and the flirtatious atmosphere that’s been building between us breaks, as if a storm just blitzed through and altered the landscape.
Guilt filters back into her expression, seeming to confirm my suspicion. Instead of calling it out, I reach around her and open the doors, our nonnas nearly spilling inside. They’d been standing directly behind them, perhaps pressing their ears to the wood.
“There was no room for us to crouch beside each other by the vent,” my nonna says, completely unapologetic. “This is better.”
The front door hinges are so bereft of WD-40, I can hear them opening from across the house.
“Is Mr. Mayor back for more?” I ask, glancing at Bianca.
Her brow furrows. “I doubt it. He looked like he’d seen the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“Maybe Giovanni’s admirers are already arriving,” Nonna Rose says excitedly. “I’ll go make more coffee.”
“I help you,” Nonna Francesca tells her before turning back toward me. She pats my cheek, then Bianca’s. “You send those women away, Bianca. You’re a good girl.”
She pads after Nonna Rose, and I whisper to Bianca, “You think she would have said that if she’d heard you ask if I want—”
She stomps on my foot, and I’m grinning like an idiot when Theo Murphy stomps into view in a flannel shirt, looking like he’d very much enjoy kicking my ass.
Naturally, the smile slips off my face.
“Can I have a private word with you?” he asks gruffly.
“Anything you have to say to him, you can say in front of me,” Bianca insists.
We’re still standing in the sunroom, light beaming down on us. It’s impossible to believe that twenty-four hours ago, I was still anonymous. Now, it feels like a giant spotlight is focused on me.
Theo gives me a pointed look, and no way am I going to let this guy think I’m hiding behind my woman.
Well, not my woman. But even so…
I turn toward Bianca and say, “I’ll talk to him alone.”
She gives me a disapproving look. “So you can have a manly, Y-chromosome talk without me?”
“Exactly,” Theo says, cracking his knuckles.
“How mature of you.” She points at him. “You already know the photo of us was posed. I texted you this morning.”
“So there’s no harm in me having a friendly chat with my buddy Giovanni.”
“If you so much as touch him, I’ll do that thing I did when you were twelve.”
Theo flinches, but his expression is not devoid of amusement. “I hear you, loud and clear. The neighbors the next house over probably do too. You know what, I wouldn’t be surprised if the strangers who were peeking into my window this morning heard you too.”
Shit. I should have thought about that. While this house is hidden away in the trees, his is within spitting distance of the apple barn.
“I’m coming back in five minutes,” she says harshly. “I’m timing you on my phone.”
I seriously doubt she’ll leave at all. I’d put fifty bucks on her listening at the door.