I’d never, ever, ever hurt an animal!
If they’d still been outside, I would have asked Trevor how he felt about hurting a human.
Matched against the sweet, spicy smell of barbecue sauce, my willpower caved on the drive home from the Pork Pit. One hand on the wheel, I gnawed on a second take-out rib as I made the turn onto my property. Moments later, my mouth hung open, the rib swam in a pool of sauce on my lap, and I struggled to figure out how Tony Ciancio’s green Lexus came to be parked under an oak tree in my front yard.
I flashed my brights. He flashed back. So at least I knew he wasn’t hiding in a closet inside my house with a silencer on his gun, waiting to kill me. I really had to cut back on my diet of Mafia movies.
Tony got out of his car and raised his hand in a wave. In his aquamarine polo shirt and pressed khakis, he didn’t look like a hired hitman. I parked, and he walked over to meet me.
“Hey.” I opened the door to the Jeep. “How in the world did you manage to find me way out here?”
“GPS,” he said. “I called your mother and she gave me your address.”
Of course she did. Tony was an eligible male, Mafia ties or not.
“I’ll admit I had my doubts on some of these dark, lonely roads. I didn’t think the computer knew where the hell it was sending me.”
He slapped at a mosquito on his neck.
“C’mon, let’s get inside,” I said.
“Can I carry anything?”
I handed him the take-out, making note again of his courtesy. Too bad I’d have to rudely inform him I was involved with someone else. After my afternoon interlude, I felt closer than ever to Carlos, especially with the glimpse he’d allowed me into his childhood pain. I was through playing games.
Once we were inside my cottage, I started putting out plates and silverware as he arranged the take-out on the kitchen counter. “You hungry?” I asked.
“Starving. Do you have enough?”
“Plenty.” I didn’t want to mention I usually buy enough for three people and manage to eat it all myself. “I love barbecue.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Smiling, he pointed to the corner of his own mouth and his chin. “You’ve got a little evidence right there.”
I studied my reflection in the glass door of the toaster oven. Tony’s description had been kind. I looked like I’d had a ring-side seat at a wrestling match held in a vat of barbecue sauce. And there was that big blotch of orangey red on my lap, too.
Dabbing with a wet paper towel, I said, “Yeah, those little packets of moist napkins they give out are a joke. I need to be run through a car wash after I eat at the Pork Pit.”
Tony laughed. “I don’t mind seeing a woman enjoy her food. It always kills me when I take a girl on a date, she orders some expensive entrée, and then sits and picks at a salad.”
“I hear ya,” I said.
“That won’t happen with you, right?”
He flashed that dazzling smile, and I saw Carlos’ face float in front of his. The feel of Carlos’ hands on my body was so recent, I think my skin still sizzled where we’d touched.
“Yeah, about that, Tony. We need to talk.”
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
I dished some mac-and-cheese and coleslaw onto his plate. I held up the carton of collard greens. He sniffed, and made a face, so I finished off his portion with a serving of pork and several ribs.
“Let’s eat before we talk, okay?”
“A condemned man’s last meal, huh?” His smile was on its lowest setting.
I blurted out, “I’m serious about someone else.”
He tilted his head. “That cop in the bar?”
I nodded.
“Well, I could see that. You barely took your eyes off him.” Shrugging, he plucked a rib off his plate. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
That was it? I was relieved it wouldn’t be a long, drawn-out discussion. But I was a little insulted at being dispensed with so easily. Then again, Tony probably didn’t lack for female company. No doubt a honey or two waited for him back in Hackensack.
Being insulted apparently had no effect on my appetite. I slathered butter onto a piece of cornbread and reached for my third rib. We ate in comfortable silence, punctuated only by an occasional “Pass the salt, please,” or, “Can you hand me another paper towel?”
When we finished, Tony helped me tidy up, and we took our beers into the living room.
“Nice alligator.” He pointed to the preserved head on my coffee table.
“My key-catcher. He’s an old friend.”
I figured I’d save the rest of the story for after I changed out of my work clothes. I had so many sauce spots on my shirt, I looked like I’d been performing surgery.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He waved an arm, already settling onto the couch. “Take your time.”
In my bedroom, I traded my dirty T-shirt for a clean one, stripped off my boots and slacks, and retrieved my favorite pair of sweats from a hook on the closet door. Maddie’s not the only sister with post-barbecue fat pants.
Stealing a glance in the mirror, I noted my chin was sauce-free, and my teeth harbored no stray collards. The hair was a different story; too far gone after the lake and what came after to repair without a shower and shampoo. But the sex with Carlos had been worth a few snarls.
“You know, that is one beautiful smile, Mace,” Tony said as I returned to the living room. “It’s a shame you’re spoken for.”
I’m pretty sure I blushed, either from the compliment, or from fear that Tony guessed exactly what had prompted my smile.
Just then, a Siamese rocket streaked from the bathroom to the bedroom.
“What was that?”
“Wila. My cat. Normally, she greets me at the door. But she’s not used to having company.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not much of a cat person. I like dogs.”
“Yeah, I’m with you on that. But Wila is pretty cool. She’s super smart. And once she gets to know you, she’ll stand up on her hind legs and wait to be petted just like a dog.”
He looked skeptical.
“No, really. I inherited her, kind of against my will. But she’s grown on me.”
As if the cat could sense we were talking about her, she let out a loud meow from her hiding place under my bed.
“That’s right, Wila,” I called. “You’re Mama’s good little gal.”
Now I’d revealed myself as one of those women who pad around the house in sweatpants and talk to their cats. It was a good thing I wasn’t interested in Tony.
When I sat in the chair across from the couch, he leaned over and clinked his beer bottle against mine. “This is nice, Mace. I don’t have too many women I can relax with and just be friends.”
“To friendship.” We toasted again. “And, speaking as a friend …”
“Uh-oh.” His eyes became wary. “The interrogation.”
“We never got the chance to finish that conversation we started by the animal pens. Then you disappeared so quickly after the nature walk. You seemed nervous around that blonde with the motorcycle helmet.”
His eyes flicked upward for just a moment. Was it a sign he was thinking up a story? Or, was he trying to remember the blonde? She seemed pretty hard to forget.
“Everybody seemed nervous around her.” Tony took a swallow from his beer. “She was strange.”
I’d give him that.
Still …
“Yeah, she was. But you seemed more nervous than the others. It was almost like you knew her.”