“Are you kidding?” She laughed and patted him on the arm like he’d just asked if the Ice Knights were a hockey team. “This is barely a Saturday morning crowd. You should be here the day before Easter. I’ve seen old ladies shove little kids out of the way to move ahead in the line.”
Once they finally made it through the twisting line and got their cannoli, he had to admit it was pretty amazing. Just not as amazing as watching the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about practically have an orgasm in front of him after taking her first bite.
Up until that moment, he hadn’t realized he could be jealous of a pastry—but he was.
…
Going to the grocery store with a guy was weird. Gina had to walk slower, listening to her latest audiobook was verboten, and going through the tampon aisle was…awkward. Still, she’d never had a better time tapping melons—not a euphemism.
“Have you really never bought a cantaloupe?” she asked.
Ford shook his head and knocked on the melons as if he was executing a search warrant. “Never.”
She took the fruit from him before he busted it in the middle of the produce section. “Then what’s in your fruit bowl?”
“If I had one?” He scrunched up his face as if he were really pondering it. “Junk mail.”
Could he have given any more of a dude answer? No, he couldn’t. “And yet, you seem like such a normal person.”
“My hours can be unpredictable, so I do a lot of takeout.” He pushed the cart a few feet to the pineapples, giving them a suspicious once-over. “Speaking of which, the captain asked me to come in tomorrow.”
“That’s good, right?” she asked, almost sounding convincing.
His suspension was T-minus a few days away from being over. Not that she was counting the hours down. The happy home renovations while playing house time had to end at some time. The clock was always clicking down with them—something she couldn’t afford to forget.
Someone cleared his throat behind her.
“If that means you’ll be keeping better company, Gina, it sure does.”
Shit. Gina flinched. She knew that voice. She turned to see Paul standing there with a basket of Roma tomatoes, a large bulb of garlic in his hand, and a scowl on his face directed at Ford.
Her brother puffed up his chest and kept his focus on Ford even as he addressed her. “This guy bothering you, sis?”
She had officially had enough. Turning to Ford, she pasted her best please-play-along smile on her face. “Do you mind going to grab the eggs for me?”
He didn’t look happy about it, but he swallowed whatever he’d been planning to say to her brother and dipped his head down to plant a kiss on her cheek before heading off in the direction of the eggs.
She waited for him to clear the produce area and spun around, hands on her hips, to confront her brother. “Really, Paul? What is your problem?”
“I don’t trust him.”
She bristled at the unspoken reason for that. “Why, because he’s spending time with me and who in their right mind would do that?”
That got Paul’s attention. He blinked at her as if his brain was trying to catch up with her verbal left turn. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
She snorted. “I don’t have to when they’re written all over your face.”
It was the same look of surprised disbelief, followed by an almost-verbal curiousness about how in the world she and Ford had ended up together—the sexy cop and the woman with the schnoz.
“He’s a cop,” Paul said, sputtering just enough for her to know that hadn’t been his first thought.
“Yeah, well you and Rocco are the only ones still up to your neck in the old family business, so I’m not worrying about it. Maybe being around him will get you two knuckleheads to finally see the light and move to that island you’re always talking about.”
“We’re thinking about it, but we’re both a little young for retirement.” Paul cracked a smile, the same one that had always cheered her after a bad day dealing with people saying shitty things about her.
Her anger abated enough for her own lips to curl up before the reality of what he’d said hit her. Damn it. She wasn’t going to encourage this nonsense. “Yeah, well in your line of business, there’s no guarantee you’ll get any older.”
He glared at her. She shot him a dirty look right back. Other shoppers avoided them.
Finally, Paul leaned down, a deceptively goofy look on his face as he asked, “Why are we fighting, sis?”
Dammit. Why did he have to do that? It was just disarming. Still she stuck to her guns. “Because you insulted my boyfriend.”
Paul cocked his head to one side and gave her an assessing look. “Is that what he is?”
“No.” Because as much as she’d like it to be true, she knew it couldn’t be. “But we’re something.”
“Is he good to you?” Paul’s face got a dark look to it that she’d never seen before but had heard people who’d crossed him whispering about.
“Yeah, he is.” Her heart did that fluttery thing again. “So why don’t you stop doing the overprotective thing? I can stand up for myself.”
“Old habits are hard to break.” He smiled ruefully. “Anyway, you know it’s just because we love you.”
Isn’t that what he and Rocco had always said when she’d come home, beat down after another day of being teased at school? At home with them, she was just Gina, their annoying little sister. She’d never told them the worst of it or how she’d gotten her nickname. Some humiliations couldn’t be avenged, not even by a pair of brothers willing to take on all comers.
“I love you too,” she said, giving her brother’s arm a squeeze. “But I’m not that girl barely making it through the school hallways without crying anymore.”
“Grandpa would be proud of you.” Paul looked over at the cantaloupe she and Ford had been checking out earlier. “He always told me and Rocco you’d be the one in the family to make the best choices. He wasn’t wrong. Look at you. I’m proud of you, sis.”
And this had officially gone to a place her conversations with Paul didn’t usually go. It made her stomach hurt. “Everything okay?”
“Always.” He smiled at her, and it almost reached his eyes. “Who knows, maybe Rocco and I are getting ready to follow in your footsteps.”
“You two want to be wedding planners?” She grinned. She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. “Or dating a cop?”
His laugh was all the answer she got, because that’s when they both spotted Ford coming their way with a blue carton of extra-large eggs. “Talk to you later, sis.”
“When are we going to have that bowling night?”
“How about Thursday? Bring your boy,” he said. “Rocco’ll be by before that, though. We’ve got a surprise for you.”
That did not bode well. “You know I hate surprises.”
“Not from us. Ours are always good.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “See ya, sis.”
Then he walked away, clearing the produce area before Ford made his way to her side.
“Everything okay?” Ford asked.
“Yeah, fine.” She watched the back of Paul’s head until he turned down the cereal aisle.
Something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
She was rolling it over in her head when Ford handed her a cantaloupe with the worst thunk sound possible, and she turned her attention back to teaching him the correct cantaloupe tapping technique.
…
Losing had never been as hard as it was right now as Ford tossed his bright yellow bowling ball into the gutter with enough skill to make it look like an accident when it was anything but. Growing up Hartigan pretty much equalled competitive to a fault. However, if he wanted to make some sort of connection with his thick-necked opponents, kicking their asses wasn’t the way to make that happen.
“You’re so far back, Hartigan, that you need to go find you a St. Christopher’s medal,” Rocco said from his spot closest to the overflowing plate of nachos and pitcher of cheap beer.