Deciding now was the time to escape, I mutter, “I should help with the food.” I push away from my latest uncomfortable situation, go to Lizzie and hope she assigns me some random chore.
I set about my tasks, occasionally glancing over to see Jude moving around the room. He doesn’t seem to have a problem socializing on the crazy train.
When it’s time for dinner, Jude casually sits down next to me as if we’ve eaten our last four hundred and sixty-two meals together—which we haven’t. Then, he casually chats with my family as if he’s the favorite neighbor boy just back from war—which he isn’t. I, on the other hand am stressed to the gills, especially when Jude sits back to stretch his arm out across the back of my chair casually drinking his beer, as if he’s really that big and needs the extra room to stretch out—which he is. More than once during dinner, I catch my Pop glaring at Jude. Also, more than once throughout this horrific time period, I catch Tony smirking at me, which only makes me glare back at him.
Finally, the torture was over and we clean up the colossal mess created by my big family. All the men, other than my grandfather, head to the basement for the much anticipated once a year pleasure of drafting a Fantasy Football Team. Everyone else starts unwrapping desserts or finding a place to settle with a new drink. This is what I was about to do, but instead am dragged into Tony’s shrine, and for the umpteenth time in the matter of two days find myself being interrogated, this time by the women in my family.
“Spill,” Paige demands. At this point, our private party has grown to include Audrey, Micah, Charlotte and Clara.
“What do you want to know?” I hesitantly ask.
“How did you meet him?” Sophia asks.
“Um…I met him through a friend.” I try to be as vague as possible.
“How long have you known him?” Clara shoots.
“I guess we met yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” a couple of them scream at the same time.
“Well, yeah.”
“Why he is acting like he’s with you?” Charlotte presses.
“He’s not with me,” I insist.
“Girl,” Audrey starts. “I’ve been married for fifteen years and have seen a lot. That man not only thinks he’s with you, but he’s with you, if you know what I mean. He seems to have the ability to watch you like a hawk while drinking beer and shooting the shit. Trust me, we know. We’ve been watching him like a hawk all night.”
“I wanna know where you found him,” Paige demands. “I want one just like him.”
“Ohmygoodness.” Finally, I decide enough is enough. “You can sit in here and talk about Jude Ortiz all night. I’ve had a freaking long day and didn’t sleep last night. The bottom half of my house is wet, I’m tired and I need another beer. I might need a lot more beer to get through the rest of the night with you people. I’m going to watch Enchanted, appreciate Patrick Dempsey’s hair for the beautiful lushness that it is, and drink. Don’t ask me anymore questions.”
“Tony told us about your basement, that sucks.” Paige shrugs offhandedly. She obviously isn’t a homeowner otherwise she would describe my basement flooding as the epic catastrophe that it is.
I ignore them all and turn to walk out of the room. “Chloe, get the movie!”
“I’m Giselle!” she yells back as I make it to the fridge for another beer. I get to the sofa and my Pop is stretched out on one end with his feet up on the coffee table with a glass of red wine.
“Do you mind if we put in a movie, Pop?”
“Anything, Gabby.” He gives me a small smile.
Kicking off my flip flops, I settle in the other corner of the sofa with my beer, tucking my feet under me. Chloe puts the movie in and snuggles up. I take a swig of my beer and settle in. I don’t even make it through the animated part of the movie to ogle Patrick Dempsey’s hair.
I am out like a light.
Chapter Five
Cut Me To The Quick
"Gabby." I hear my name being called softly while something equally as soft whispers across my face. I'm so tired, I just want to sleep. "Sugar, wake up."
The word sugar clicks in my brain and my eyes pop open. My head is on a pillow, I'm covered with a soft blanket and Jude's melty eyes are all I see. I feel his hand pushing my hair away from my face. "Draft is done. Time to take you home."
I push up on one arm, putting myself even closer to Jude since he doesn't move back one little inch.
"I fell asleep," I announce.
"Yeah, it's late. Let’s get going.” I start to move and realize Mia is snuggled up in the crook of my lap. I give her a nudge and she jumps down. I see my cousins carrying sleeping kids out the door one at a time. Jude sees me looking at the train of sleeping children and turns back to me with a grin. "Do I need to carry you, too?"
"No, I think I can walk," I respond with a bit of a glare.
"Here's your purse, Gabby." Lizzie comes in with my things. "Your bowl and platter are clean by the door."
"Thanks, Lizzie, and thanks for dinner."
I take my purse as Jude is offering his own gratitude and handshakes. I make my way through my family giving my own goodbyes and as we’re moving toward the door, my phone rings.
Still dazed from my late evening nap, I slide my thumb across the screen without checking Caller ID. “Hello?”
“This is Protection One, I’m calling for Gabrielle Carpino.”
“This is Gabrielle Carpino.”
“Ma’am, the alarm at your home has been triggered. What’s the password on the account?”
“Meredith. What’s going on?” My end of the conversation has garnered attention from all of those around me and the room has gone from sleepy to alert in point five seconds.
“Gabby, who is that?” Jude asks at the same time Tony butts in, “What’s going on?”
“Ma’am, one of your back doors has tripped the alarm. Are you at home?” the operator asks.
Waving my hand in front of me for my audience to be quiet so I can concentrate on my call, I continue. “No, I’m not home. Did you contact the police?”
Now the room has gone from alert to wired and I find my phone plucked out of my hand. “Hey!”
“This is Jude Ortiz, a friend of Miss Carpino’s. What’s going on?”
“I could have told you what’s going on, Jude, if you would have waited two seconds.” He puts a hand up, palm to me. This must be the universal male hand communication for be quiet as opposed to my feminine one of waving my hand around. This makes me cross my arms across my chest in silent protest of him confiscating my phone.
“Good. Thanks. We’ll be there in ten minutes. Yes, we’ll wait for the police to give us the all-clear to enter the house. I’m in a silver Ford F150.” He finishes my call and turns to me. “Your alarm went off and it came from one of your back doors on the deck. The police are en route and will need to clear the house before we can go in.”
“I could’ve handled that, you know.”
“Gabby, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’re things I need to talk to you about regarding Trevor Harper. Things I had planned to tell you about earlier, but because of what happened at your house, it wasn’t the time.” I look at him confused. He then lays it out for me. “You’ve been mentioned on the wiretap on my case—and not in a good way. You’re receiving attention by being at Harper’s during the raid yesterday, attention from some really bad people. We need to arrange extra precautions for you until we find him and put him behind bars.”