Chapter 20: Chapter 20

C H A P T E R E I G H T

I forked into my salad while glancing down at my plate. I truly did try to keep my eyes on my plate, but even though I was able to maintain a bent head, I glanced across at Falcone with my eyes.

My breath rushed out in a whoosh as soon as I did, but merely catching a glimpse of the sight on his face made me realize that the burn would be on my brain for the rest of time. As soon as I did, I returned my eyes to my plate.

This was due to the fact that when I looked at him, Falcone didn't look like Falcone or the man I was learning to recognize as Falcone.

Falcone resembled the Falcone from my daydreams. His face was soft, but his eyes were hard, scorching, and I could feel them burning into me even as I put salad into my mouth and looked elsewhere.

"So... well... Falcone," Dad ventured into the stillness, "did you witness any action while you were serving?"

Falcone responded in a deep voice, but I was too busy trying to stuff food into my mouth, chew it, and drink it without getting tomato sauce on my shirt, lettuce in my teeth, or strangling on an unchewed slice of garlic bread that I opted not to pay attention to what he had to say.

While Dad and Falcone connected over Army tales, Melinda, sensing my melancholy, softly engaged me in conversation about the novels I was editing. Fortunately for me, this brought us to the conclusion of dinner, which wasn't lengthy and didn't also have me explaining things about Isabelle.

Falcone said supper tasted fantastic but he had "stuff to do" as we all rose up, and Melinda was making excuses for not having cooked any dessert.

Then he turned to me and said, "Babe, take me to my vehicle."

After I recounted that tale, I really, really didn't want to be alone with Falcone, so I wasn't sure if this was an order or a request, and I really, really wanted to rush to a closet and hide myself in there. But I had to nod instead since Dad and Melinda were watching.

Falcone and I made our way to the door as farewells, thanks, and come agains were yelled. After that, we were done. Dad said Falcone he and Melinda were going to allow Falcone and me walk to the car alone while I knew they were going to watch through the curtains before the door closed firmly behind us and the latch made a distinct noise (or at least Melinda was). I didn't care at this time, though. At this moment, I was experiencing such intense self-consciousness that it seemed like a burn was emerging from deep inside me as the burn in my brain—the burn that was responsible for the expression I saw on his face—started to manifest.

I didn't react when Falcone seized my hand and led me away from my parents' house and toward his Camaro, when he turned me so that I was facing away from the car using my hand, and when he pinned me down with his bulk and placed his hands on each side of my neck. The moment his fingers gently pressed at the base of my jaw and pushed me to look up at him, I didn't even flinch.

I finally got a reaction when I saw his black eyes lighted by streetlamps in the cold, dark February evening. And the first reaction was to employ avoidance methods. And the avoidance strategy I chose was to provoke a quarrel.

"I didn't tell them about Isabelle," I hurriedly added. "I need to set up my laptop and get some work done, but because I didn't do it before dinner, I now have to go in there and explain stuff about Isabelle." That's going to stink. I had everything figured out. I was all pumped. Because of you, I've completely lost my mojo. By turning up, you spoiled my strategy."

Falcone took no offense and ran his fingers across the contour of my jaw as he said, "I briefed your Dad before supper. You may come in and start working straight away."

I raised my eyes to him. "Did you brief Dad?"

“Yeah.”

"What exactly did you say?"

Falcone responded with an incomplete response, "He knows more than you, you know more than your stepmom."

"What does that imply?"

"That means your stepmom doesn't need to know what's going on around your sister, or she won't hear it from me." You already know too much and will not learn any more. Because your father has to know everything, I informed him, and he agreed with me regarding you and your stepmother."

I didn't sure where to begin, so I began in the center.

"Did you tell Dad everything?"

"He asked questions, and I answered, so... sure."

I wasn't sure what I thought of it. What I was certain of was that I couldn't go back in time, so I had to let it go.

"How was he taking it?"

As his hands glided down to rest where my neck met my shoulders, his thumbs slipped away from my jaws.

"I'm not delighted, but I'm not shocked," he said.

I understood Dad's feelings since I felt the same way.

"How did you manage to hide this from Melinda?"

”

"She was cooking, so I begged for some time, and your Dad led me into his den, where I shut the doors. We exited without being asked. If they have a chat, it can be private. That's his decision; she's his woman."

I had no vocal answer, but I was grateful. Falcone was correct; Dad would want to know and would be upset if he didn't.

Falcone was also correct in that Melinda should not know unless Dad believed she was capable of handling it, and he should tell her directly.

Despite my thankfulness, I did not express it. Instead, my gaze shifted to the side.

When they did, Falcone cried out, "Babe," and my eyelids fell back. "What you stated before -"

On no. We were not going to discuss it sooner. I'd cheerfully walk barefoot on a bed of hot coals and then take a swan dive into the boiling lava at the opening of the volcano I mentioned previously.

So I jerked my neck away and pushed out of his path, but he moved quicker, pressing in closer, trapping me against the car, and his hands came up to cup my jaws, forcing my face tipped to him.

When my gaze was drawn to his ear, he said again, "Babe."

I guess I had to bring it up.

"I was making it up," I told him. "Melinda is a hopeless romantic." I couldn't tell her how we truly felt. Nor with Dad present, not privately, never."

"Babe," he murmured once again.

"It's not a huge problem, at least not right now. It will be when you disappear. Melinda will be upset, but I'll deal with it."

"Look at me, Sweet Pea," he said calmly.

My gaze shifted to his.

"I wanted to be placed in that booth," he said, and I took in my breath, not knowing what he was about to say.

Then I exhaled it on a, "What?

”

"I caught you before you caught me, Gia."

I was speechless as I peered up at him.

"I saw you through the windows as I walked up. You were laughing because your pal was with you."

Oh my goodness.

I watched as his head descended closer, holding my breath and felt his gaze sear into mine.

"I'm still seeing you," he said quietly.

Oh my goodness!

His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, then his fingers returned to my hair as his other hand moved down my neck, over my shoulder, and around my back, his head lowered, and he kissed me.

This kiss was full of tongue, both his and mine. It was wet, deep, and lasted a very long time.

I was still holding on when he lifted his head; however, I could feel my body trembling in places only I could feel, and my private areas were significantly better. "Get to work, Sweet Pea," he murmured against my mouth before gently yanking me away from his car. He then folded in, bleeped the locks, unlocked the door, fired up the Camaro, and purred away.

Even though I had long since lost sight of his tail lights, I was still standing there with a faint quiver and only one thought running through my head.

He continued to observe my laughter.