“When you win, dinner is on me.”
The sexual innuendo in my comment guarantees Maddox won’t deny my underhanded demand I attend tonight’s match. It’s my birthday. He said I can do whatever I want on my birthday. Although I hate the idea of seeing him get hurt, I want to support him as he has supported me for the past six weeks. He’s a fighter, so my ‘job’ as his girlfriend is to be a ringside cheerleader.
“Last chance, Demi,” Maddox says when we reach the dusty lot at the front of the café. “Demi’s café is for sale. Who knows how long it will remain on the market?”
After taking in the ‘for sale by owner’ sign stuffed in the front window, I drag my eyes over the delipidated building, tube-lighting that no longer works, and the wonky ‘D’ at the front of my name on the sign hanging above the entryway door before lowering them to Maddox. It is ridiculous for me even to contemplate what he’s suggesting, but I’d be a liar if I said it hasn’t piqued my interest. “Can I sleep on it?”
“That’s close enough to a maybe for me.” With his smile as big as the low-hanging sun and his arm wrapped around my shoulders, he guides me back to Saint’s car. I won’t lie. I wish we were still on his bike. His hand barely left my thigh during the second half of our travels today, but there’s nothing like snuggling up to his back and cocooning him with my warmth.
I smile like a fool when the reasoning behind Maddox’s thirty-minute bathroom break between lunch and dessert makes sense. He picked wildflowers for me. They’re spread across the bench seat in Saint’s car, along the dashboard, and a handful of wayward ones made their way to the floor.
“The day’s got away on me. I didn’t have time to get you a pres—”
I stop his apology by kissing the living hell out of him. He has nothing to be sorry for. My day has been perfect. He woke me up by going down on me, cooked me an amazing breakfast I only cringed at twice while eating, spoiled me at the rink, then showed me that although he can protect me, I can also protect myself.
He was right. I feel safer knowing that.
“Thank you. I love them.” I almost tack another three little words onto the end of my statement, but mercifully, the lemonades I downed with lunch catch up with me. “Do I have time to pee?”
“Again?” Maddox laughs before he nudges his head to the outside washrooms.
If that isn’t proof how crazy he is thinking we can restore this place, I don’t know what will convince him.
“You good?” I stray my eyes from Maddox making his way to the ring to Rocco, who despite his constant stirring, was requested to stay by my side by the very man he uses me to annoy. “You keep wiggling and shit. Like you’re not a big girl who knows how to use the potty.”
My eyes roll skyward. “It’s nerves. I’m nervous.”
“Nerves… right.” Rocco scrubs a tattooed hand over his bristle-covered jaw while asking, “Who gets nervous when they’re backing a winner?” Before I can tell him to shut up, the expression on his face shifts from teasing to shocked. “Do these nerves make your stomach a little queasy? Are you super tired? Or better yet, can you remember the last time you had your period?”
“What the hell, Rocco! Why are you asking me that?” My words have barely left my mouth when the truth smacks into me. “No… I’m not… pregnant. Why in the world would you think that?” I pant even faster as a confession I shouldn’t be telling anyone tumbles out of my mouth. “We’ve never used protection. Not once.”
When my endeavor to fill my screaming lungs with air overtakes the crowd’s chant excited the fight is about to begin, Rocco gives lying a try, clearly unaware he’s crap at it. “All right, calm down. It could be nerves.” He bumps me with his shoulder before smiling a huge grin. “When I cruise by on Tuesday, I’ll bring some special supplies.” He whispers his last two words. “They’ll tell you one way or another if it’s nerves in your stomach or something else.”
I’m grateful for his assistance. However, I’m still confused. “Tuesday? Why are you coming over on Tuesday?”
“Ah…” His jaw hangs long enough for the referee to announce the commencement of Maddox’s fight without interference. “It’s the only day I have free. Thought I’d help a girl out.” He pivots me to face Maddox prancing around the ring before muttering, “How about you coach your boy. The crap you ate at lunch will make him a little slow off the mark.”
I’m not going to ask how he knows what we ate. Maddox spent the thirty minutes before his fight warming up while glaring at Rocco, so there’s no uncertainty in my mind that he didn’t update him on what we ate for lunch.
Rocco is a snoop, and I’m reasonably sure I know who he’s snooping for.
Dimitri became more family-orientated a couple of months back. Not enough to give me the full pardon I’m seeking, but sufficient for him to stick his nose where it isn’t wanted.
“Come on, Maddox. It’s late, the restaurant is almost empty…” And I know the perfect recipe that will suffocate your urge to have a panic attack when I tell you we may have created more than fireworks the past six-plus weeks. “My uncle is in Europe. He can’t come back in an hour.” When pleading doesn’t work, I remind him of the fantastic day we had, which grew even better when he took down his opponent in the second round. Although the loser’s ‘owner’ refused to hand over the money he lost when he placed his fighter against Maddox, it was a lot of fun seeing Maddox in his element. It reminded me he isn’t as saintly as his brother’s nickname and that the Walsh brothers have a reputation for a reason. “It’s my birthday. I want to cook for my boyfriend in my favorite restaurant for my birthday.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Demi. When you say it like that, how can I say no?”
I scoop his hand that should be more battered than it is into mine before replying, “Don’t say no. Say yes. I’ll make it up to you. Remember that kiss we almost shared in here? It won’t be an almost anymore.”
“Bribing me with sex. I should have known.” While smiling to assure me his tone has no malice whatsoever, he leads me into the back entrance of Petretti’s.
A sense of coming home filters through me when the sound of overworked staff booms in my ears, and the sweet smell of tomatoes and garlic lingers in my nose. My dad loved this place. That alone means I’ll never see it in a negative light.
“Demi!” Ty wraps me up in a hug before half my name leaves his mouth. “Where the fuck have you been? We thought you had dropped off the face of the earth.” He stops, arches his brow, drags his eyes up and down Maddox’s body three times in slow motion, then whistles air between his teeth. “Can’t say I blame you.” He twists his torso to face Jude, who’s preparing the last of the meals. “What did I tell you, Jude? If only he were gay.”
Jude doesn’t deny Ty’s claims. He just shifts the focus by asking if we are here to eat.
“I was hoping I could whip something up for old time’s sake. If that’s okay, of course?”