27. Chapter 27
The night air was cool, laced with the scent of budding trees and damp earth. Raffe stepped out onto the stone terrace, walking to the middle of the area as though he were simply a man taking a breath. In truth, he was scanning the yard, ears tuned to the smallest shift in the shadows.
He lifted his glass of scotch to his lips, using the movement as an excuse to look around, to survey the trees and shrubs. Unfortunately, he didn’t see anyone.
But, he did hear her footsteps before she spoke.
“Thought I’d find you out here.”
Mia.
She crossed the stones and leaned against one of the columns, her arms wrapped around herself. Her hair glinted under the porch light, messy from the long day, and her eyes—those incredible eyes—were sharp, probing.
“You should go inside,” he urged gruffly, keeping his gaze on the yard. “It’s cold out here tonight.”
She didn’t move. “Why are you so secretive, Raffe? Why won’t you tell me about your past?”
Slowly, he turned to her. For a long moment, he just looked at her, taking in her soft beauty, the long hair that shimmered in the moonlight, the enticing figure that was slowly driving him insane because he knew he couldn’t, shouldn’t, touch her.
“Why don’t you tell me why you were in Europe for so long? Why didn’t you know your grandmother was being drugged?”
The words landed like a blow in the soft silence of the night. “Drugged?”
“I suspect it,” he said flatly, adding a shrug as he sipped his scotch.
“Her transformation that day in the courtroom and then how she appeared later, when we brought here back here.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
“After eating several pieces of fried chicken, Evangeline was a different person.” He swirled the glass of scotch, appreciating the dim light that hid his expression.
And hers. “In less than twenty-four hours, Evangeline morphed from slouched and frail to vibrant and eager. Even slightly mischievous. I’ve been around drug issues many times.
You can’t explain her transformation without something being done to her chemically. ”
Mia saw red as she pushed away from the stone column. Rage burned hot in her chest. “If that’s true, then I’m going to that stupid nursing home first thing tomorrow. I’ll demand her medical records. I’ll—”
“No.” His hand closed around her arm, firmly pulling her closer to his side.
“And you need to lower your voice,” He warned.
“We’re being watched, so be careful what you say.
Voices carry further in the dark.” He offered her his glass of scotch, relaxing slightly when she took a long, satisfying sip before handing it back.
“Also, no going back to that nursing home. You can’t go off half-cocked without a plan. It’s too dangerous.”
She opened her mouth to argue—but the words evaporated from her tongue when he leaned closer still. The anger in her stilled, her pulse skittering wildly. His breath caressed her lips.
And then, without warning, his free hand slid around the back of her neck. The touch shocked her, stilled her. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in as his lips covered hers.
The world went silent, the tension between them igniting explosively.
Her free hand fisted in his shirt, his fingers sliding into her hair.
It wasn’t gentle. It was a clash of need, of fury, of desperation.
For several moments, they couldn’t move away, each of them exploring, kissing, absorbing and needing.
And then a light turned on in the kitchen, washing over them through the window. They broke apart, breathing hard, their eyes locked with the unspoken truth of what they’d just done.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, even as she licked her lips, wanting to hold onto the taste of him.
“Probably not,” he grumbled, his voice low and rough.
She stared up at him, then realized that she was still clutching his shirt. Slowly, carefully, as if she might shatter if she moved too quickly, Mia dropped her hand and stepped back. “Too many secrets,” she whispered, regret lacing her tone.
“Too many,” he agreed.
Mia turned and went back into the house, her thoughts spinning. At the door, she looked back at him, still confused. But she heard a muffled curse from the kitchen. Evangeline was in the kitchen and needed help. With a sigh, she went inside to help her nonna.
Later, as the household settled in for the night, Raffe helped Evangeline into bed. She pretended not to notice his distracted movements, but the knowing look in her eyes told him otherwise.
Mia checked on Freddy, handing him pain meds.
“Not those,” he said with a shake of his head, his dark hair flopping over his forehead.
“Those are opioids. I read about them today.” He sighed and pulled his legs over the side of the bed.
He’d decided to wear only boxers to bed these days.
He’d seen Raffe coming out of his bedroom in only boxers one night and decided that pajamas weren’t for him anymore.
“You’re going to need something,” Mia insisted lightly.
“Can I just have ibuprofen instead?” he asked.
Mia looked down at the prescription, then shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll put these beside your bed, okay? You pushed yourself really hard today, so if you need the extra pain relief, either take more ibuprofen or take some of these. Proper sleep is important to recovery.”
“I will,” Freddy promised, but the look he gave the prescription warned her that he wouldn’t.
That was probably better, she thought as she went to the hallway and grabbed the bottle of over-the-counter pain meds.
She brought him some water as well and he took the pills. “Thanks Mia,” he whispered, then reached out and gave her a quick hug.
Mia stood there, surprised by the hug. Then she hugged the boy in return. “You’re so welcome!” she whispered fiercely.
He released her and slumped into bed, not looking at her. Mia understood that he was embarrassed by his moment of vulnerability and wanted to play it cool. So, she pulled the sheets over his shoulder without another word.
At the doorway, Mia paused, looking back at the boy who was struggling so hard to recover. Who laughed and encouraged her nonna. “Thanks for being here,” she whispered, unaware of Freddy’s eyes staring at the wall as he blinked rapidly, fighting back tears.
At the top of the stairs, she and Raffe met. She thought about telling him about Freddy. But the words wouldn’t come. She was…stunned by the need that pulsed between them. Neither spoke. Both remembered the kiss.
The air was thick between them, humming with the pull neither of them could, or wanted to, resist any longer.
When she went to brush past him toward her room, he caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. Their lips met and the fight was over.
They didn’t stop.
They couldn’t.