Nassau, Bahamas
Her fingers shook as she ripped open the envelope. After they’d taken a cruise a few years ago and had discovered Luca Street, her brothers had told way too many lame jokes about how awesome it would be to live on a street with their name. It had to be from them.
Ms. Luca,
Thank you for your interest in renting the home on Luca Street. Unfortunately, it has been occupied by new buyers. They were alerted to the real estate investment opportunity by a mutual friend you share who gave them an early heads-up about how their former circumstances were not tenable. The current owners have no plans at the moment to sell the property but should the situation in your location change, they will reconsider.
Sincerely,
George Ainsley, Esq.
Gina didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She’d recognize Paul’s ridiculous sense of humor anywhere. He probably thought using the name of their old next-door neighbor and writing in code to let her know they were okay was hilarious. Chuckling despite her frustration that her brothers had gone all cloak-and-dagger on her, she relaxed for the first time in days. And once that weight was off her shoulders, something else landed in its place as she looked down at the newspaper laying on the table.
Ford hadn’t just tried to help. He actually had. He’d gotten her brothers to leave before an Esposito-related drug bust went down. He’d tried to tell her, and she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t give him a chance. Even after he’d broken one of his precious rules for her by giving a heads-up to her brothers. Her lungs tightened, and she crumpled the letter in her hand. After years of not trusting people and building her walls, she hadn’t given Ford the chance that he’d given her. Instead, she’d spent their time together just waiting for him to show his real self. What she hadn’t realized was that he had been doing exactly that the entire time. And her? She’d been too scared to let herself believe what had been there in front of her all along.
But could she ever really trust him?
And that’s when she heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer hitting wood coming from the other side of her front door. Discombobulated, confused, and really pissed off at herself, she yanked open the door and stopped dead.
…
“What in the hell are you doing?” Gina’s question cut across the porch as sharp as the blade on a hockey skate.
Ford didn’t look up. He thought he’d have more time to finish the project. As it was, all he had done was leave the reception and pick-up the specially sourced wood Juan had ordered that matched the original planks. He had one laid out but not secured in place. Of course, he could only last so long without looking at her.
She stood in the doorway. The tip of her nose was red, and the ruby blotch of annoyance at the base of her throat was in full effect. But she was still beautiful in her full-on warrior mode. Really, she was magnificent, and for the first time since he realized he needed to show her that he would always be there for her, he had second thoughts. The woman looked like she might just murder him, and he couldn’t blame her. He stood up, careful to stand in front of the unfinished patch job.
“I had to fix it.” It sounded lame but putting his feelings into words wasn’t his forte.
“My porch?” she asked, suspicion thick in her voice. “You had to fix my porch.”
“I know how much you love this house and I wanted…” The planned speech he’d been practicing in his head about how this house was her heart and how he’d protect it and care for it no matter what fizzled into nothingness. Shit. He was fucking this all up. “No,” he finished, floundering for words. “I want to fix us.”
“Stop right there.” She held up her hand, palm forward. “I need to tell you something.”
That couldn’t happen. She had to hear him out. He took a step toward her, leaving his spot in front of the hole in the porch. “Gina—”
Chin trembling, she walked toward him and stepped just right on the unsecured planks. Her foot slipped, and her eyes went wide with shock. Ford could see it all happening in slow motion. She was going to go through the hole in the porch. He grabbed for her, curling his fingers around her waist and reaching with his other hand for the handrail surrounding the porch, but he missed it by millimeters. Before he could even holler out to warn her to brace herself, they were both waist-deep in the porch, the fronts of their bodies pressed together, his arm still around her waist, and their mouths within kissing distance.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Unable to stop himself, he swept his free hand over the parts of her body he could reach to make sure, a process made difficult by the fact that there was maybe an inch between her back and sides and the pointed edges of the wood, and because she glared at him the entire time as if she was plotting his death, which she probably was. He moved his hands so they were between her back and the broken wood.
“I’m fine,” she said, turning her face from his as if she could will him away.
His gut dropped. “Gina—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted. “I just want to get out of here.”
Ford looked around. The replacement planks of wood were scatted out of reach across the porch and down the steps. His feet were on solid ground, but the fit with the two of them stuck in the hole together was too tight for him to leverage either of them up. The truth of it was, they were well and good stuck.
“That’s not happening without help.” The first glimmer of a backup plan began to flicker in the back of his mind. “Can you reach your hand in my front pocket?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Really, you want me to cop a feel?”
Yes. No. Well, not at this moment. “My phone is in there. We have to call for help.”
“Fine,” she said with a huff.
It took a little adjusting in how they were squeezed together, but she managed to get her hand in his pants—or at least close enough to make his dick stand up and take notice.
Cool it, Hartigan. You’re not going to get another chance at this.
She bit her lip in concentration and pulled out his phone. “Got it.” She angled it so the camera zeroed in on his face, unlocking the screen.
“Go to contacts,” he said, working his new plan on the fly. “Hit the one that’s just the number six.”
“Is that your precinct number?”
He shook his head, praying silently that she’d understand what he was about to say next. “It’s Frankie’s station.”
Her finger hovered over the touchpad. “I thought you never wanted to call them for help because you’d get so much shit for it.”
“It’s worth it to make sure you’re okay.” And it was, a million times over.
“Let me stop you there. I don’t know where my brothers are, and since I don’t have any other ties to the Esposito family, you can just stop trying to butter me up.” She hit the contact listing for station six with a solid thunk.
“I’m not,” he said, and his heart sank as he watched the pain and anger flash in her eyes before she locked everything out, including him. He knew he had to tell her the truth, though. He owed her that much at least. “I know you won’t believe this, but I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
She laughed. It was the broken sound of a woman who’d reached her limit. “Well you better figure out how, because I’m done with liars and people who see me as a way to get ahead in their career. I know that’s why you came back. You thought my brothers had some Esposito secrets in that box.”
The relief that had gone through him when he’d realized there wasn’t anything related to the Espositos in that box had been so powerful that he’d nearly dropped into the nearby kitchen chair, because it wasn’t until that moment that he’d realized how far he was willing to go to protect her, the woman he loved.