Chapter Seven
Alara
“Does it bother you?” I asked when Chris paused to look at the townhouse.
“Does what bother me?”
“That these guys you used to rank alongside are, well, more established?”
“I won’t lie and say I’m not envious about Lorenzo, Emilio, and Brio. Who wouldn’t want a brownstone? But I know I can’t measure my progress against theirs. They didn’t have the same shit to deal with that I did. And I’m back now and ready to make up for lost time.”
“Which isn’t going to be as easy with kids.”
“They’re not babies. Charlotte is only a few weeks away from being a teenager too.”
“I like her. She’s whip-smart.”
“You’re good with her. Both of them.”
“Oh, here we go.”
“Here we go, what?”
“I hear that all the time. ‘But you’re so good with kids!’ Or ‘But you’d be such a great mom!’ Or a thousand other iterations of that. All of it meaning the same thing: that I’m basically making the wrong choice by not having kids.”
“I don’t think you’re making the wrong choice. I think being a parent is one of those things that you have to be sure about. If you’re not sure, you shouldn’t have them.”
“Were they in your plans?”
“Honestly, I never gave it any thought. Back before I had to move home, I was too busy building my career to think about that. Then I was in the trenches of taking care of my mom, my sister, the kids. There was no time to think about what I wanted.”
“And now the decision was basically made for you.”
“I love those kids. And I did make the choice. That said, I’m not sure I would want to start over again with a baby at this age.”
“I like them at Liam and Char’s ages. They’re actually, you know, people.
” I mean, I liked to make faces at a baby or play tag with an elementary school-aged kid as much as the next guy.
But it’s nice to actually be able to connect with a kid, not just answer their very strange and often invasive questions.
“Liam can be a little too much of a person at times.”
“I was a really moody teen too. He doesn’t bother me. His eyebrow piercing looks infected, by the way. You should do something about that.”
“He got that done without permission.”
“What fun would it have been if he had permission?” I shot back. “Come on. Let the kid rebel. At least it was just a piercing, not a tattoo. It’ll close up if he grows out of it.”
“I’m more pissed at whoever did it without parental permission.”
“I don’t think he had it done by anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“That eyebrow ring is cheap silver-plated nickel. No self-respecting body piercer would use that. He probably heated up a pin and did it to himself.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“My father wouldn’t let me get my ears pierced. I did them myself.”
“Your ears aren’t pierced.”
“Nope. Because I did them so lopsided that I had to let them close up.” I’d never admit to this part, but it had also been so painful that I’d nearly passed out. And ever since then, the idea of getting them re-pierced made my stomach twist and my vision swirl.
“Can I ask why your sister seems upset that there’s a lot about you that she doesn’t know?”
“I think some of that is more guilt than anything. Back when she’d been married to her abusive ex, she hadn’t been able to see me or my mom.
Not that it was her fault. But she missed a lot, and I think she still feels like maybe I don’t tell her everything because we had that distance in my late teens. ”
“Is it?”
“No. I mean, maybe in an unintentional way. I went through a lot of difficult shit when she wasn’t around, so I wasn’t used to telling her everything.
Then, well, she was getting married and making babies while I was opening the pawnshop.
We were in different places, so I probably didn’t share as much as I should have. ”
“And she would have worried.”
“So much worry,” I agreed. “When she found out Leo took me to the shooting range, she showed up with a newborn in her arms and demanded I explain why I was looking to learn to shoot right at that moment.”
“We’ve seen how that turned out.”
“It’s a safety thing. I work alone. And while I pay for protection, there’s no guarantee that one of you will reach me in time.”
“That’s fair. Are you really going to read this book?” Chris asked as he held open the door to a little indie bookstore.
“Yeah. I haven’t read something since the alien book for book club. And I finished that like two days after it was picked out.”
“Ah, yes. The… nub,” he said, making me turn and realize just how close he was standing. He towered over me to the left, and a row of shelves was in front of me, making me feel a little trapped. In an intriguing kind of way.
“Don’t knock the nub. The nub was very useful.”
“I bet it was.” His smile was teasing, but there was a heat in his gaze as he leaned down slightly.
For one thrilling second, I wondered if maybe he was going to kiss me. But he reached past me, his arm close to grazing me but not close enough. I was almost pathetic enough to lean in so his forearm ran across my breasts.
Yep.
That was the level of wanton I had become.
And I was choosing not to wonder why it wasn’t the hot delivery guy I found myself fantasizing about in bed at night. Or the guy at the grocery store who flirted with me over an end cap full of discount bread. It wasn’t even the damn alien with the nub.
Nope.
It was Christopher’s hand I imagined gliding down my belly, pressing between my thighs, working me with that perfect precision that came from experience.
Nothing about Christopher made me think he was the kind of guy who couldn’t find the clit, or made the mistake of switching up pace or pressure when you were right on the cusp.
No, this was the kind of man who watched you with those intense eyes of his, who could read your body language, who could tell what you needed without having to ask.
God, I needed to get laid.
Before I could rub my tit against him like some kind of animal in heat, his arm moved back.
And there was the book we were there looking for.
Christopher opened his mouth to say something when he looked at my face. Whatever he found there made him pause.
The moment stuttered, paused.
My heart followed suit.
I watched as his gaze dipped from my eyes to my mouth, lingering for just long enough that I knew what his mind was on.
Did I take the chance to wet my lips?
Yes, yes, I did.
Christopher’s breath caught.
His lids closed for a beat.
Then he took a very careful, very deliberate step backward.
“This is the first one. But according to everything Charlotte had to say over dinner a few nights ago, the plot really picks up the most in book two.”
I forced my gaze away, taking a breath I hoped would clear my head of the very vivid image I had of him pressing me back against the stacks, sealing his lips over mine, and rocking his hard length against…
Okay.
Deep breaths weren’t working.
“Maybe I should get book two then too. There’s not a bookstore close to my apartment.”
I walked away from him, hoping some movement and distance might help.
“Oh, boy. There are branded bookmarks,” I said when we reached the end cap where the book series was displayed. “Does Charlotte have one?”
“She doesn’t.”
“Then she needs one too,” I said, plucking two out of the holder. “So, what’s Liam into?”
“Music loud enough to ensure he’ll be partially deaf by the time he’s thirty. Horror movies. Complaining about there being nothing to eat even when the fridge, freezer, and cabinets are full.”
“I once watched one of the Costa teens eat two steaks and three servings of potatoes at dinner. He was as skinny as a garden rake. Where was he putting it all?”
“The difference between Charlotte and Liam is crazy. Even when she went through a big growth spurt last year, she couldn’t eat half as much as her brother. I hope Ezmeray made enough food.”
“She’s got a hollow-legged boy too. Last time I had dinner with them, he ate a whole pizza himself. It was wild.”
With that, we checked out, and I was glad for the chilly night air because not even a walk around the store had cooled off my desire.
And then Christopher had to go do the whole putting his hand on my lower back as he scooted me away from the street-side thing.
I just… snapped.
My hand closed around his tie, yanking him with me into an alley between buildings and shoving him against the wall.
“Alara…”
“Shut up.”
My hands framed his face as I went up on my tiptoes to seal my lips to his.
There was one horrifying second of nothing—no movement, no change in him.
Then all at once, his arms went around me, tightened, pulled me flush to his chest as his lips took over—angling, deepening.
The kiss wasn’t soft or explorative.
It was pure heat and hunger. Lips and teeth and tongues as the fire burned through and out of both of us. Almost as if he was as desperate as I was, like it had been just as long.
His arms tightened, crushing my breasts to his chest, dragging a low, aching moan from deep inside me. He answered with a rumble that vibrated into me.
My hands tightened on the sides of his neck.
But something shifted in him.
I felt the tension just a second before his hands went to my hips, pushing me backward.
“We can’t do this.” He sounded as winded as I felt.
“Sure we can.”
“Sweetheart, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t fuck my cousin’s wife’s baby sister.”
I had a mouthful of words to say.
But before I could get a single one of them out, Christopher was striding out of the alley and down the street toward the brownstone.
I wanted to be angry that he left me to follow behind like a little puppy. But I needed the couple of minutes to try to pull myself back together.
The last thing I needed was my sister to figure out that something happened between us.
So I let myself fall further behind, hoping I didn’t show up flushed and sweaty.
Christopher waited at the top of the steps, holding open the front door, and I forced myself to charge through, keeping my eyes forward even when I sensed him trying to catch my gaze.
Thankfully, inside the brownstone was chaos now that my niblings had arrived with their unique brand of chaos, making everything about them.
Charlotte was thrilled about her bookmark, and I made it a point to sit between her and Liam at dinner to avoid any chance of conversation with their uncle.
Unfortunately, the configuration meant he was sitting directly across from me the whole time. More than once, I could feel the weight of his gaze, and I made it a point to ask Charlotte something about the book or suggest some places around the city that Liam had to explore when he had time.
I jumped at the chance to offer to clean up the kitchen in an attempt to avoid any further awkwardness.
What I hadn’t anticipated was Christopher’s boldness in coming in and cornering me in a room where there was no easy exit. Especially when he stood right in the doorway to the rest of the house.
“Alara…”
“Just put the dishes on the counter by the sink,” I demanded as I pretended the order of the dishwasher took intense focus.
“Alara, come on. Let’s talk about—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I cut him off. I walked over, snatching the two plates from his hands. “I just hope you’re happy with your decision. Because you’re not getting another chance.”
With that, I shoved the plates into the dishwasher, dropped in the pod, slammed it shut with a flourish, and hit the button.
“Are you going to get out of my way?” I asked when he didn’t budge from the doorway.
He stood there for a long moment, watching me with intense eyes, then finally stepped aside.
“Well, that’s it for me and my little trash traitor,” I said, snatching Tuna off the ground where he was resting with his head on Liam’s feet.
“Uncle Chris, she shouldn’t walk alone,” Charlotte insisted again, her eyes wide with horror at the prospect.
“Don’t worry, kid,” I said, shooting her a wink, “I can take care of myself.”
And I’d rather get mugged than be alone in her uncle’s company again.
“Ez, Brio, spawns,” I said, addressing my niblings, “I’ll see you in a few weeks. Charlotte, thanks for the book rec.”
With that, I rushed out the door before Charlotte could work her magic on her uncle, and I found myself stuck with him all the way to the subway.
“Hey,” Ezzy called before I could get five feet from the front steps.
“Yeah?” I asked, exhaling hard.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen you rush out of here without stealing three days’ worth of leftovers.”
“Oh, well, I have a lot of food at home.” If you could consider two yogurts with questionable dates, a third of a block of cheese, and some bruised apples ‘a lot.’
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, coming down a couple of steps.
Damn older sisters and their keen eyes.
So I did what little sisters do best.
I lied.
“Fine. Just at my kid quota for the day.”
Ezzy glanced back at the window where loud laughter drifted out. “They were exceptionally loud today,” she agreed. “Okay. Well, we should get together. Just you and me. I feel like we’ve been drifting apart lately. I know nothing about your life.”
“What life?” I shot back, only half-joking. “But, yeah. Let’s do it. Figure out your schedule and let me know when you’re free.”
With that, I turned to walk away.
“Alara?”
“Yeah?” I asked, turning back.
“Christopher is nice, huh?”
I worked hard to keep my face serene, knowing she was looking for any sign that her words had some kind of impact.
“Chrissy?” I asked, nodding. “Sure. Salt of the earth.”
I could tell I’d accomplished my mission when she frowned.
“Love you,” I called, then rushed off before she could try again.