Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Valentina
I’m no prude. One can’t live in foster care and then in a world of men and be precious about covering every inch of skin. I use my body to my advantage, and I’m not ashamed to say it. Isn’t that what men do when they use their physical strength to their advantage every fucking day?
I’ve got a body men like, and therefore, I wasn’t horrified when Deuce walked in on me in the bathroom.
I was mostly horrified he saw me sprawled out and dazed with green goop all over my leg.
My pride would have preferred to be in skimpy lingerie or poised just so on the bed when he walked in on me.
He hasn’t seen me naked since I was a teenager and I’m so much more seasoned now, in all the best ways.
Sadly, he got the klutz version of me instead of the sexy siren.
I hear his bellow of a laugh out on the sales floor of Saint’s Suits.
I’m huddled in the back storage room like a dirty secret, barking orders from my phone and putting together the best damn Battle of the Boutiques this small town has ever witnessed.
I’m at my best barking orders, which sadly hasn’t happened much today.
Twice now I’ve blinked and realized I’ve been staring at the blank wall for who knows how long, reliving the bathroom scene.
Not the naked part.
The part where I leaned into Deuce and felt a steel pipe in his pants. A not-so-little present, just for me.
The part where Deuce trailed his fingertips across my skin and I felt it in every secret part of me.
The part where he lowered his head and we breathed the same air for a split second before being so rudely interrupted.
Shit. There I go again, staring at the damn wall with a flush to my cheeks. Bettina would be horrified to see me so distracted by a man. Hell, I’m horrified to be distracted by a man.
Especially Deuce.
The thing is, the day I shot up the porta-potty broke the tension between us. Sure, we’ve still been teasing each other ruthlessly, but there’s no heat behind it. We’ve become…friends.
Gah. There it is again. My least favorite f-word.
But it’s true. We make conversation easily in the car, while making dinner together, even when Deuce brought me along to his dad’s latest chemo treatment. What else could this be but a budding friendship?
I still don’t trust his story about telling people the details after we slept together, but damn, that was over twenty years ago.
When I stepped back from organized crime, I told myself I’d let go of some grudges just so I could have some peace in my life.
My panic attacks couldn’t handle any more stress, so I was forced to let stuff go.
Bettina has grudges she’ll hold fisted tightly even after they lower her into the ground.
I don’t think my nervous system can handle being burdened by hate that way.
“You good for dinner with Betsy, Silas, Rhett, and Mary London?”
Deuce’s voice makes me jump. I spin in my chair and give him a dirty look. It’s a reflex. He caught me daydreaming again and it’s flat-out embarrassing.
“Tonight?”
He grips the door to the storage room, holding it like a shield. I can only see his head and one well-dressed shoulder. His expression is unreadable.
“Yep. They’ll bring the babies too, so maybe you should watch a few YouTubes about how to hold them.”
I glare so hard my vision narrows to a pinprick of light. “I hope the inevitable diaper explosion happens when you’re holding the baby and some of it gets in your mouth.”
His face contorts into a grimace. “Damn, V, that’s just cruel.”
My victorious smile feels like the old me.
Deuce rolls his eyes and barks at me to be ready in thirty minutes before he closes the door and leaves me to daydream some more.
This time I’m picturing him holding a little baby that looks a lot like him, green eyes and dark hair.
It’s a stupid daydream because babies aren’t meant for people like me or Deuce.
Right on time, Deuce collects me from the storage room and carries my exploding binder for me, along with the takeout bags we pick up from Divine Dragon before heading for home.
I keep telling him I can help, but he won’t let me, so I walk unencumbered down the sidewalk while he struggles.
He carries on about a particularly difficult customer while we drive home.
It’s the kind of chatter that doesn’t require my commentary, the kind that’s meant to fill silence.
I watch him with narrowed eyes as we set up the table for dinner with his friends.
He’s chatting incessantly, which isn’t like him.
He’s also always where I’m not. When I put down napkins, he shifts to the other side of the table to straighten a chair that doesn’t need straightening.
When I get a lighter out of the junk drawer in the kitchen to light the candles on the table, he shifts out of my way, putting the island between us.
What the hell is he doing? He’s acting weird. Shifty. Acting like he’s guilty of something and now I have to figure out what.
Mary London bursts into the house with Rhett and a tall teenager in tow. She’s all hugs and kisses and smiles, despite looking tired with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.
“Landry!” She hugs me in the kitchen where I’m pouring water in crystal glasses, careful not to squish the little bundle of pink strapped to her chest. “That dress is amazing on you!”
I look down at it, realizing I’ve started to get used to all these florals. I wouldn’t say I like them, but they don’t startle me any longer when I see myself in the mirror.
“Thanks.”
She hands me a serving spoon. “Deuce said to give this to you and ask for a slotted spoon instead.”
I look over her shoulder at Deuce who is busy entertaining his guests. “Something’s up with that guy.”
“I’ll say!” Mary London gushes. “He can barely focus. He’s constantly staring at you. That boy is smitten!”
I’m already shaking my head. That can’t be right. If anything, Deuce has put some physical distance between us since the bathroom incident. We talk and interact like friends, but anytime I get close, he gets skittish. In fact, I’ll prove it.
I take two water glasses and head for the dining table, passing through where Rhett and Deuce are chatting.
I purposely brush too close to Deuce. He jumps back like I held my knife instead of water glasses.
Placing the glasses on the table, I take a moment with my back to him to try to figure out what’s going on.
Is he…is he embarrassed about having a boner when I was naked??
The idea makes me positively gleeful. A new idea forms in my head, a way to tease Deuce that’s just too delicious to deny.
I spin on my kitten heel and prance back into the kitchen, slowing only briefly to trail my fingertip across Deuce’s chest as I walk by.
His muscles jump in reaction, confirming my theory.
Oh, he thinks a little physical space is going to stop him from wanting me?
I don’t fucking think so.
The door opens again and Silas and Betsy waltz in with little Harlow Jean in tow.
She makes a beeline for me, arms in the air.
I pick her up and hold her in midair, stupefied as to what she wants me to do.
Her arms and legs start to kick and I have to pull her into my body to keep from dropping her.
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses a wet kiss to my cheek before going limp and lying on me.
“Ahh, she likes you,” Betsy says, rubbing her belly. “Thank God. Maybe I can have half a second of peace to eat dinner tonight.”
I open my mouth to reject the idea that I’ll be taking care of this little human in any capacity, but Betsy’s already left the kitchen to join the guys.
I look down at Harlow’s mop of dark blonde curls tucked into my neck and start to sweat.
She’s pretty warm. Does she have a fever or are all kids like little heat rocks?
Deuce calls me into the dining room, so I head that way, hoping I’m holding Harlow properly.
She doesn’t make a sound, so I guess she approves.
I sit down with her in my arms and Deuce loads up my plate since my hands are currently unavailable.
While the others eat, I formulate a plan.
It’s not until halfway through dinner that Harlow lifts her head suddenly and grins at me, clearly awake now and happy to be on my lap.
Betsy comes around the table and swings her out of my grasp with a grateful whisper. “Thank you. You have no idea how nice that was to eat without her climbing on me.”
I smile at her like it wasn’t that big of a deal and wave goodbye to Harlow, who waves back with a giggle. Honestly, she’s pretty cute. I have to pull my dress away from my body and fan myself though before I can dig into the warm noodles.
Now that I’m not on kid duty, I put my plan into action.
Slipping my foot out of the heel, I stretch it out under the table and make contact with Deuce’s ankle.
His fork clinks to his plate, but he doesn’t look my way.
I drag my toes up his leg, over his slacks, and up his knee.
He tries to pull his thigh away but ends up bumping the table instead.
I freeze. Water glasses slosh and he tries out a smile when his friends look his way.
“Sorry about that.”
It takes everything I have to keep a straight face. Then I trail my foot up higher on his thigh. His hand darts under the table and he grabs my foot in a death grip. I smile over at him, and when he glances my way, his eyes are shooting darts.
Goddamn, this is fun to see him rattled.
When we can’t eat anything more, we push away from the table, and collect our plates. I slip my shoe back on and stack my plate on top of Deuce’s.