Only a few people know about my dinner with Dylan tonight. It has been a few days since the night he rescued me, and my bruise has faded enough that full-coverage foundation made it virtually disappear. Thank God. Gigi was kept in the dark about the date for obvious reasons—that girl would snitch on me to Dad in a heartbeat. Tamara and Lily don’t know either because the three of them are thick as thieves and I like to keep my secrets on the down-low, and nothing stays hidden when it comes to them.
It takes everything in me to make my legs move, my shoes feeling as if they’re filled with lead. Every step takes effort and concentration, especially since Luna made me wear her highest and sexiest stilettos. If I don’t fall and break my neck tonight, it will be a win…dick or no dick.
I take a deep breath, plaster a smile on my face, and open the door. My heart immediately skips a beat. Dylan Walsh isn’t dressed in a T-shirt and jeans like I expected. He has on a white dress shirt, black tie, and a pair of what look like new blue jeans. He looked damn good before, but right now, standing in front of me all cleaned up, he looks fucking hot. He’s even trimmed his beard, but it’s not short, just tidier than before.
“Wow,” I whisper, but not as quietly as I wanted.
“Wow yourself,” he says, his eyes leaving my face, catching on my breasts before heading lower to my bare calves and high heels. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
My cheeks heat, and I fidget for a minute, unsure of what to say. Luna has always been the one to be described as beautiful. I am the “cute one,” but the way he’s looking at me, I feel every bit as beautiful as Luna. “Should we go?” I say, somehow keeping my voice even.
“It’s going to be an interesting ride,” he replies, and my stomach flips.
Fuck. I forgot he said we were going to take his bike. I didn’t think about that when I let Luna pick out my outfit, and she grabbed a ridiculously short skirt.
“I don’t think I can…”
“You can,” he replies with the most devilish smirk I’ve ever seen on a man’s face. “You sure as fuck can, wildcat.”
“Bye, kids. Have fun,” Luna says from behind me, rubbernecking to see Dylan around my side. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That doesn’t leave much off the list,” I say to her, along with giving her my middle finger.
“Exactly,” she replies. “Byeeee.”
Dylan steps to the side, holding out his arm, and I take it, locking elbows with him. Without his help, I’m not sure I’d even make it down the sidewalk without catching a heel and making a giant fool of myself. I don’t know how Luna walks around in these all the time. I prefer flats and flip-flops over high heels and wedges, but my center of gravity is different from hers.
“Tonight, I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive,” Dylan says. “Nothing like a beautiful woman, a short skirt, and the road.”
I look at the ground, carefully watching where I step and trying not to pass out from nervousness. “Maybe we should take my car.”
“I promise to be a complete gentleman until you ask me not to be.”
I stumble, but he holds tight to my arm, keeping me upright.
“Don’t worry, wildcat. I’m not expecting anything more than a good meal tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning anything more than that,” I lie as we make it to his bike. In all reality, I like Dylan. I like him a lot and enjoy kissing him even more. I played off not wanting his “good dick,” but I do. I haven’t been touched the way every woman wants to be touched in so long I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.
My phone rings in my purse, the theme song to The Godfather filling the air.
“The Godfather?” Dylan asks. “Mafia boyfriend?”
I shake my head, fishing out my phone because I will do anything to waste time to keep from climbing on the back of his bike, including talking to my grandparents. “Grandparents. It’s just a joke. We all have it as our ringtone for them.”
“Never had grandparents,” he admits, and my heart suddenly aches, trying to imagine what it would be like not to have them in my life.
I hit answer and speaker, letting him hear that it is, in fact, not my Mafia boyfriend. “Hey,” I say with the cheery voice I usually reserve for them.
“Hey, baby. Whatcha doing?” my grandma asks.
I stare at Dylan and say, “Nothing. You?”
“Oh, you know. Doing old people shit.”
Dylan laughs, his teeth sparkling through his beard.
“I don’t know what that is, Gram, but I’m sure it’s cool.”
“Your grandpa, on the other hand, is doing dumb people shit.” She sighs loudly.
“And what is dumb people shit?” I ask, but I don’t know if I really want to know.
“Sal, I told you to get the hell off that ladder. You’re going to fall and break something vital. I’m too young to be a widow,” she chides him.
“Woman, we’re older than dirt and held together by cobwebs and Bengay,” Grandpa says in the background.
I grimace and shrug at Dylan, who’s still laughing at their ridiculousness. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“They’re great,” he says, unable to stop himself from enjoying their free talking.
“Grandpa, you shouldn’t be on a ladder,” I say, speaking loudly because his hearing is shit at times, especially over the telephone.
“Girlie, I’ve been on ladders more years than you’ve been alive. I know what I’m doing.”
My grandmother gasps and starts repeating the same prayer she says when doing the Rosary.
“Do you need help, Gram?”
“I tried calling your father and everyone else, but no one’s answering. It’s like they’re all in bed and don’t care if we die.”
“You’re being a little dramatic, Marie,” Grandpa says to her. “You only called Joe and no one else. Maybe he was busy. Ever think of that?”
“What’s more important than his own mother?”
“Maybe his wife. Maybe they were working on another baby.”
“He’s old and fixed.”
If I could crawl into a hole right now and die, I would. Dylan’s loving every moment of my mortification at the conversation my grandparents are having on the other end of the phone.
“They can still practice.”
“Oh my God,” I say to the sky, begging for a reprieve from the embarrassment.
“Your grandfather does need God in his life, especially when he’s climbing on ladders, trying to off himself before his time.”
“For fuck’s sake, Marie,” Grandpa grumbles. “Who the hell is going to hang this light?”
“You’re hanging a light now? Why not wait until tomorrow when everyone’s there?”
“You just answered your own question, baby. I need it fixed before dinner tomorrow. Can you maybe get in touch with one of my other grandchildren and have someone help us tonight?”
“We’ll go,” Dylan says before I can answer.
I cover the phone. “We can’t go.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Why?”