“Too bad I don’t have my gun.”
Chapter Two
Gemma
I let out a little yelp and stuff a pillow over my face, cowering into the large leather recliner. “Argh, I can’t watch!”
Tommy snickers, stretched out on the couch in the living room across from me. “Then why do you always pick the scary ones? Why don’t you ever choose one of those chick-flicks instead? So you can actually watch the movie?”
I lower the pillow a slight bit, my eyes narrowing at the plasma screen hanging on the wall opposite us. Looks like the murderer is on the hunt for his next victim, so I can have a little breather until he strikes again. Then I turn to Tommy. “I like the action. And the suspense. And the shock factor. You don’t get any of that with those sappy chick-flicks. They bore the hell out of me. The girl pines for the guy, the guy pines for the girl, both have no idea, they’re thrown together in some totally predictable way, and suddenly, the stars align and they realize they both feel the same way. Then comes the happily ever after.” I stick a finger into my mouth and pretend-gag. “Blech!”
“You don’t believe in happily ever afters?” He quirks an eyebrow. “What about your parents? They’re solid.”
I shrug. “I didn’t say I don’t believe in them. I just don’t see mine happening like one of those movies. There’s no drama. Nothing pulse-pounding. No curveballs. It’s not realistic. I’m not biting my nails to find out if the guy and the girl get together. I already know they will. It’s boring.”
Tommy shifts on the couch, his long, muscular torso rippling under his t-shirt. I resist the urge to lick my lips, wondering if he is buying the crap about me not believing in traditional happily ever afters. I mean, duh! Of course I do! I’m a seventeen-year-old girl!
I say a silent thank you to my brother, Gio, who forgot he had plans with Tommy and took off with some bleached blonde whose boobs were almost bigger than her head. I don’t mean that to be critical. I’m actually a little jealous, to be honest. My legs are in great shape from soccer, but my boobs are less than impressive.
Thank God for push-up bras.
My parents had gone out, too, right after Tommy had a private chat with my father in his office. I expected him to leave after that, but instead, he asked if I wanted company. He held up a tray and told me he brought dessert.
Oh, holy hell…
My heart literally screeched to a stop in that second. And it wasn’t because of the dessert, although that was pretty fantastic. Luckily, my brain was able to register the question so I could squeak out a “Sure!”
I’ve been pining for Tommy Marcone ever since he appeared in my kitchen with my brother Gio six months ago. I’ll never forget that day. I ran down to grab a soda from the fridge when the wind was all but knocked out of me. I’d just gotten out of the shower, my hair hanging in wet strands around my face, my lower body dwarfed by oversized sweatpants.
And, oh yeah.
I had no bra on underneath my thin white t-shirt.
I was speechless and completely mortified.
But when his dark eyes tangled with mine in those few seconds and his lips curled into that panty-melting grin, I knew I had to have him. I’d dated guys before Tommy barreled into my life, but none of them ever made me feel like he did. The butterflies, the tingles, and the fantasies that followed have been tormenting me ever since.
After that day, I made sure I was always around the house whenever Tommy stopped by, which was pretty often. He’d hunker down with my father a lot, even when Gio wasn’t around. And when they finished, I would just happen to appear in my shortest workout shorts and sports bra, pretending I was just coming home from soccer practice or the gym.
Yep, like I said, I’ve been pining for Tommy for a long time.
But he always kept his distance. If I came too close, he’d back away. It was like there was an invisible barrier between us, and he knew he’d get zapped if he tried to smash through it.
It’s been maddening.
Frustrating.
Heartbreaking.
None of the guys in those stupid chick-flicks see the girls as their little sisters. Maybe if they did, I’d actually watch to get some pointers.
You know, figure out how to flip the switch, so to speak.
I slowly get out of the chair and walk over to the couch, plopping myself a few inches away from him to make it not seem completely obvious that I want him to get a closer look at me in my very skimpy pajamas. My chest deflates when I see his eyes glued to his phone.
Seriously? Do I need to strip to get his attention?
I know we’re a few years apart, age-wise, but I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m damn close to being a woman and exactly what Tommy needs. I just need him to get on the same page as me.
I stretch my legs out in front of me, flexing my muscles. They tighten as I point my toes, and I sneak a glance over my shoulder to see if he notices. I work them out constantly, on and off the soccer field, so they’ve always been long, lean, and toned.
But does he even blink?
No!
My legs fall to the floor, my shoulders sagging. I lean over the coffee table to grab a double chocolate chunk cookie from the tray he brought and take a big bite. Oh my God, that’s delicious! I clap a hand over my mouth, eyes wide as I turn to look at him.
And he’s still glued to that damn phone!
I let out a loud moan. “Tommy,” I mumble, my mouth full of deep, chocolatey deliciousness. “This cookie is amazing! Where did you buy them? I’m going there first thing in the morning!”
He smiles. “I didn’t buy them. I made ’em myself.”
My eyes pop open wide? “Seriously? Did you bake crack into them? Because there is no way I’m not finishing this whole tray. They’re addictive!”
Only then does he look up, a twinkle in his eyes.
“That moan.” He smirks. “Sounds like you’re gonna come.”
“Maybe I am!” I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand again. “They’re that good! I had no idea you knew how to bake! Why haven’t you ever baked anything for me…er, us…before?” I swallow my bite and stuff another one into my mouth. Heaven. Pure bliss.
My God, I love him even more now!
He shrugs. “It’s not really the kind of thing I tell people. I cook for my family and that’s pretty much it. But I made too many batches of cookies today, so I figured I’d bring some over. If you didn’t like them, I’d just say my sister Gianna made them.”
I snicker, spewing milk and cookie crumbs before I shove a napkin in front of my mouth. “I love them!”
But it sounds more like, “Ahh-ubb-mum!”
“Didn’t quite catch that, but judging by the crumbs flying out of your mouth, I’d say we have a winner.”
I nod, willing my mouth to move faster and chew up the remaining pieces so I can speak like a human again. “You’ve seriously got a gift,” I mumble, heat flooding my cheeks.
“It’s the only thing I’m really good at, so my plan is to open a restaurant. Maybe a bakery. I love to cook. It helps me de-stress.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And Christ only knows, I’ve got enough of that dealing with…stuff.”