CHAPTER 5.2
1909 Words
When I heard a car door slam across the street, I leaned the other way to see behind Finn and noticed a police car with red and blue lights within the dash rather than on top. Detective Connor Magtanggol was also heading across the street while sporting his own wire-rimmed, extremely hot sunglasses.
Uh oh, big, double, extra uh-oh!
As hot males descended from two directions on me, my car, and Finn, the hotness meter began to ring wildly.
I was so happy I curled my hair.
As they neared, Finn turned but didn't release the pin on me.
What did I just do?
I chose to be cool, but there was a major flaw in that strategy: I wasn't cool.
When Falcone halted a few steps away, his shades didn't leave me despite the fact that he arrived first.
"Babe," he said, but his voice was rumbly in a manner that didn't make me think he was in a pleasant morning mood.
"Hey," I responded.
Magtanggol approached, turning Falcone to gain a clean view of me, but his shades skimmed Finn, his jaw tight, before they fell on me.
"Good morning, Giabella," he said, dismissing Falcone and Finn.
"Uh, morning," I said.
"Do you sleep well?" Magtanggol inquired.
"Not really," I said truthfully.
"Got a cure for that," Finn said, and two sets of sunglasses cut to him, so mine did as well, and I noticed he had his arms folded across his chest and was smirking.
Shit.
Falcone was finished at this point.
I knew this because he pointed a finger at Finn and then at Magtanggol and said, "You... you... speak," and I believed he was the only person on the globe who could get away with it with those two people.
Magtanggol and Finn both moved as he took a step back. So I cleared my door and threw it to. When I did, Falcone, who had turned to stroll across my yard with Magtanggol and Finn, turned back to me.
“Babe. Stay.”
I looked at him through my sunglasses.
Then I lost my cool.
"I'm not a freaking dog!" I snapped angrily.
He was five feet away one second and I was pressed against my car the next.
"If you don't remain, I'll drag you to my car and handcuff you to the steering wheel. It's your call. two seconds."
Obviously, I was correct. Someone was not in a good mood in the morning.
"A police officer is present. I suppose he'll be annoyed if you bring me to your car and tie me to your steering wheel," I told him.
"Magtanggol knows me, and Finn knows me, and I guarantee you, Sweet Pea, I have to do what I have to do to deal with my wife, and not a guy in your yard will help you."
I wasn't sure whether I trusted this assertion, but given how he stated it, I wasn't going to put it to the test. Things were already tight. I didn't need a biker vs. commando battle on my front lawn with Magtanggol calling in the cops.
So I caved, but not in a polite manner.
"You just dropped two notches on the hot-o-meter," I snottily reminded him.
"I'll survive," he said, turning away.
I moved to the hood of my car, leapt up to sit on it, and crossed my arms across my chest as he proceeded toward where Magtanggol and Finn were standing and waiting while watching me and Falcone.
Biker and commando heads swung from me to the macho male, badass huddle. I just stood there watching the three attractive guys converse, their features taut and their eyes not even close to avoiding contact. Shades were locked together. This was a tough conversation that lasted only three minutes. I didn't time it, but it may have been much less.
They then separated from one another. Magtanggol walked over to his car, but he only gave me a low wave. Finn whistled and flipped his fingers, and the army of motorcyclists took off, leaping on bikes and piling up in the van. Finn's gaze was drawn to me, and he placed a finger to his brow and flicked it out before jumping on his bike. Falcone was chatting to a slender but lean and cut man about two inches shorter than him when Magtanggol's car began and Harleys roared, and he rushed to me as the rest of the commandos unloaded what appeared to be crates of equipment.
I got out of the car and stepped in front of him.
"I've just added reason three hundred seventy two to my list of reasons why we are so over," I said. "Had this talk twice, not having it again," Falcone replied, his sunglasses now locked to mine. "My boys measured your window last night. A new one is being carved, and when it arrives, it will be installed. They're currently working on your security system. That will take a few days. You'll be with me till then."
"Too late, a macho man had told me where I'd be staying tonight."
I saw his entire body tighten, like if the very air around him became a warning hue of red, and it took all I had not to step aside.
"And what would that be?"
" he inquired, his voice terrifying and hushed.
"My Dad," I said with a snide tone.
His body and face relaxed, and his mouth smiled, revealing both dimples.
"I'll allow that," he said.
He could not be taken seriously by God.
"OK, I realize you have selective hearing and miss chunks of what I say, but please pay attention. First, instruct your lads to cease working. Dad is fixing my window, and I don't want you to install a security system. Second, I'm not sure what happened in that huddle, but you clearly won, which leads you to believe you can come over here and order me about, but you're completely incorrect. Not only because I'm not your lady, but also because I despise being bossed around at all. And last, honest to God, honest to goodness to God, we... are...over."
I had just finished saying "over" when he ripped off his sunglasses, then mine, then hurled both of them on the bonnet of my car. I was frozen hard by this technique, allowing him to perform his following motion without opposition. As a result, I found my body flat against his, one of his arms tight around me, the other hand cupping the back of my head, which he turned and crashed down on mine.
This was an issue.
There was a reason I never kicked Falcone out of my bed: he was always kissing me before I could say anything.
And he was a fantastic kisser. He could do incredible things with his hands, lips, and other parts of his anatomy, but even if he merely kissed me once, I would be desEnricoed for any other guy. Yes, he was that fantastic. Really.
As a result, when he eventually lifted his head (as embarrassing as it was, he took his time and I let him), I had one arm tight around his back and one hand curled around the side of his neck, both to cling on. When his tongue was working my mouth, all I could do was hang on.
"Are we done, Sweet Pea?" he said quietly to me.
"I don't like you," I said, still hanging on.
He chuckled again, his hand moving out of my hair and becoming an arm wrapped around my shoulders before both his arms tightened, drawing me further closer. "I have things to do now, the lads will be working here, but I'll come back and take you to lunch."
Will you accompany me to lunch? We'd never even been on a date, and now he's telling me he's going to take me to lunch?
"I'm unable to attend lunch. I have three deadlines coming up, and I barely worked a couple hours yesterday. If I'm going to make them, I have to go all in. I'm eating at my desk."
He chuckled again, his hand moving out of my hair and becoming an arm wrapped around my shoulders before both his arms tightened, drawing me further closer. "I have things to do now, the lads will be working here, but I'll come back and take you to lunch."
“Will you go with me to lunch? We'd never even been on a date,” and now he's telling me he's going to take me to lunch?
"I'm unable to eat lunch. I have three deadlines coming up, and I barely worked a couple hours yesterday. If I'm going to make them, I have to go all in. I'm eating at my desk."
"I'll bring something with me. What do you want? ”
God! What was the deal with this guy?
"I have food in my refrigerator."
"Miranda's Sweet and Sour Pork and Beef Won Ton Soup," he added, and I stared.
Two of my personal favorites. I had many, but the Beef Won Ton Soup and Sweet & Sour Pork Miranda's were on the top of my list. When I had a long workday, I would order takeout for them to eat at my desk.
Then I stopped gazing and saw my eyes squinting.
"How do you know so much about me?"
He didn't respond to my question, but he didn't need to because evidence suggested he was watching me like... well, a Falcone.
Instead, he posed his own query. "Didn't you sleep last night?" ”
"My house was broken into," I pointed out.
"I assumed you went to your Dad's to feel protected," he said.
"I can be secure and still toss and turn because I'm obsessed on watching a man's hand push open my bedroom door while also thinking about breaking my joyful kitten snow globe when I have to clock him."
His arms squeezed mine. "That was yesterday night, sweetie; today is a new day. You’re good. It’s over. Get it out of your head.”
Was he stoned? Did he really believe I could accomplish it? Did he really believe any woman could accomplish that? I'd been worrying over last night for at least twenty-five years before I could get it out of my brain.
"It's not that simple," I explained.
"It's really that simple," he explained.
I raised my gaze to his.
He gave me a dimpled smile, and I loved those dimples.
Now it's time to go to work.
"I need coffee, and I need to get to work on my computer."
"Yeah," he muttered, dropping his head, and brushing his lips against mine before I could stop him. Then he said again, "Later," let me go but leaned into me to get his shades, then he prowled to his Camaro, all badass cool, dipping his head to the commandos. Then he folded into his badass automobile and drove away.
I took a few seconds to stand next to my car and thought aloud as I looked down the street toward where I'd last seen him.
Shit.
I then put on my sunglasses, made my way inside while avoiding rushing commandos, started a large pot of coffee, and when it was finished, I poured out roughly five mugs for various obedient commandos.
I eventually walked to my office and turned on the computer there.
- Writer
