“We’re just…”
“You’re everything…to me.”
“Smoke, you can’t say things like that when you don’t…” I shook my head, pushing against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.
He watched me then, the tension in his features growing tighter, the clench in his jaw flexing. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Maggie. I’m an honest man.”
“I know that.”
“And when I say you mean everything, I mean…that I love you.” Smoke settled against me, his hands on either side of my head. “You and the kid…you belong to me in a way no one else can. You own me like no one else ever will.”
“Smoke…ah…” My throat burned and shook my voice, the tightness in my sinuses leaving me unable to do more than pull him in for a soft kiss.
“Move in with me,” he said again, this time little more than a whisper.
“Yeah,” I said, taking the kiss he offered. “Okay…”
Smoke’s smile was slow, sweet, and his eyes were lit with something blazing. The lick of memory that I recalled every time he was inside me. It was desire, passion, and the promise that there would be more. Always more, that he’d never be finished with me. Smoke Carelli made a promise with one look—one I wasn’t sure he could keep but one that said a lot without a single word before he came closer, stunning me with a kiss that left me breathless.
10
Smoke
It wasn’t the trip I’d planned.
There’d been the picnics, like always. That much hadn’t changed.
Mateo and Maggie had loved the lake house and Ma had insisted that her staff with no Fourth of July plans or family to do anything with, tag along for the day. It had been nice. Fun. Easy.
No threats. No worries.
No bullshit following us around.
No Finney idiots that needed reminding who they shouldn’t steal from—my damn knuckles still ached over that shit.
The fireworks the last night had been the best part, underneath a clear sky and my pop and Dario manning the grill like pros as I lifted the kid on my shoulders, laughing while he screamed with each blast and shot that streamed red and blue in the sky overhead.
“Smoke, turn this way, I want a picture,” Maggie said, aiming her phone toward me, her beautiful smile lit up brighter than the fireworks shooting off above us. “So sweet.” She reached up, kissing me, then the kid as two of the night servers cracked open a six pack and the taller of the two offered a bottle to me.
“I’m good, man. Thanks,” I told him.
“I’ll take one.” My smile lowered when I heard Paris’s high-pitched cadence. She’d been hovering all weekend, prancing around in her thong bikini as Maggie and I brought Mateo onto the lake in the three-person canoe, and fixing her blanket near ours on the beach when the picnic kicked off.
“You got an admirer,” Maggie commented when we stretched out for a nap sometime around two that afternoon and I got to my side, looking over my shoulder to spot Paris watching us.
“She’s harmless,” I promised, not worried about a clingy waitress, but surprised by Maggie’s laugh. “What?”
“Men,” she said, rubbing sunblock on Mateo’s nose as he slept. “Utterly clueless.”
But it wasn’t Paris and the side-eye attention she gave me all weekend that had really disturbed shit. That came later as we packed up our gear and prepared to settle in for the night.
“Maggie!” I heard, stuffing the kid’s snacks into his bag as she brushed out the blanket and then saw Curtis, the kid she’d trained all month, jogging toward her.
“Hey. I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, greeting him.
I didn’t pay much attention to them. Mateo was crawling over me, trying to dig into his bag, looking for the animal crackers I’d just hidden in the front pocket and like the mook I was, I fought with him, trying to distract him with carrot sticks I knew he’d never eat.
“Yeah, I had to bring my girlfriend to her uncle’s before I made it up here. Oh, I wanted to check on you. We haven’t worked together since that day you got sick. Remember?”
The kid threw a carrot straight at my head and I ducked, cracking a smile when he laughed at me. “Think you’re slick, don’t you?”
“Um…really?” I heard Maggie say, only half-listening, but recognizing the nervous tone of hers for what it was. “Was that the last time?”
“Yeah, I could tell you weren’t just feeling bad. I figured you rolled out because those assholes were bugging you. Weird thing was, one of them was all twenty questions about you after you left, then he started snooping around at the staff pictures by the register. You know the ones with Mrs. Carelli and the Christmas party?”
“He…was?”
I stood, bringing Mateo with me, standing at Maggie side. “What guy?” I asked the kid, ignoring how quickly the smile dropped from his lips.
“Oh…I don’t know, Mr. Carelli. Some suit. He was kind of an asshole.” He looked at Maggie, then back at me like he realized he’d said too much. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t know I wasn’t…”
Maggie shook her head, waving him off. “It’s fine, Curtis. Really. Thanks for letting me know.”
Curtis wasted no time taking off and Maggie handled herself well, grabbing the kid from me and nodding me forward, away from my family and the crowd. We walked down to the pier, toward the boat house, letting Mateo play in one of the canoes suspended securely between two posts.
My chest felt tight, and for a second, I reminded myself of the worry and fear that had kept me from wanting a normal life. “When did this happen?”
Maggie looked out on the water, her arms folded across her chest, chin lifted. “The…the night Dino was shot. It’s why I went to see you. Antonia told me…” I made a noise, releasing something filthy under my breath, and Maggie glared at me.
“Fucking Toni…”
“She was trying to help me…”
“Madonna…” I rubbed my face, the pulse in my neck ticking faster and faster the harder I looked at her. Maggie knelt down, reaching out to brush clean Mateo’s face as he pulled on one of the knots in the rope tying the canoe to the post. “Who was this guy?”
She exhaled, dipping her head. “John Reynolds. He worked with Alejandro.” She glanced at me, her expression tight. “My ex-husband.” When she nodded toward the baby, I understood and some of my anger deflated. “I was worried he’d see me and tell him where I was. I got scared.”
I could understand that fear, but not her lapse in logic. “Explain to me how I’m supposed to have your back if you don’t tell me when some fucker that knows your husband comes into the restaurant.” I took a step when she opened her mouth, looking ready to make an excuse, but I didn’t want to hear one. “For the life of me, I don’t get how the hell you think I’m supposed to take care of this situation if you keep it to yourself.”
“You’re not,” she said, moving her chin up.