“Just…” Sergio ran his hand through his long dark hair. “Be careful… she isn’t yours.”
“Trust me.” I moved past him and whispered, “I’m well aware.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Phoenix and lasagna: the stuff dreams are made of
Bee
I DREAMED THAT PHOENIX was in a parade riding a giant float of lasagna… he looked at me, winked, handed me a fork, and then we kissed.
Nobody ever said dreams had to make sense.
The kiss had been amazing… warm and passionate. His lips had tasted mine, explored me, really taken time to coax until I was ready. If I could have dreams like that every night, I’d die happy. I wasn’t even sure how I’d managed to conjure up such a hot kiss — all things considered. I’d kissed only one guy in my life, and it had been more of a sabotage. He’d kissed me at one of the family dinners. I’d pushed him into the swimming pool, and my father had told me I was a stain on the family name.
A year later that same kid tried to grope me.
When I told my father — he’d asked me why I hadn’t given the guy what he wanted, when clearly I’d been asking for it.
Right. I asked for it and wasn’t even sure what it was.
That was the problem with hitting puberty so early. You looked old when you were fifteen, and at eighteen I already looked like I was twenty-five or twenty-six, a woman of the world — experienced, sexual, exciting.
I was none of those things.
None.
I quickly got ready for the day, careful to do my makeup perfect since it was the only thing I had control over. My uniform looked stupid, but there was no helping that. On top I looked all feminine and girly; my hair was in loose curls; I had bright red lipstick on, and my cheeks had just enough color to look healthy.
From the neck down… I resembled a confused first grader. Khaki pants? A sweater? But I stuck with the outfit Phoenix had picked out, because… well, it was Phoenix, and I owed him after last night.
I still couldn’t figure out why lasagna had put the fear of God in him, or why he was visibly shaking when I tried to feed him.
I also decided that even if he was mean to me, I was going to keep cooking for him, or, in my case, ordering takeout. Clearly he liked food; he just didn’t want to, because he was weird, or maybe he had something against non-organic food? I was going to figure it out if it killed me.
By the time I made it downstairs, I was already running late.
“Bee!” Sergio’s voice boomed across the house. “Hurry up!”
“I’m hurrying!” I yelled back as I made my way into the kitchen. Ax, Sergio’s brother, was sitting with his wife, Amy, at the breakfast table in deep conversation with Phoenix. Amy was awesome, but the minute she and Ax got married, they’d gotten their own place and had only visited a few times a week.
Then again, they were blissfully happy and married so they deserved that private time.
Phoenix’s face was murderous as he glanced at Ax and then at Sergio. His eyes finally found mine, and for a brief moment in time, I thought he was going to smile. I was ready for it, ready for his approval, ready for a silly grin to hit his face, or maybe even one of appreciation. Especially after last night.
Instead?
He glanced, yes, glanced in my direction as if I was as interesting as wallpaper and then looked back down at his green smoothie. Special moment officially nonexistent.
I pushed down the rejection and pasted a smile on my face as I joined everyone and sat down.
“Nope.” Sergio pointed at his Rolex. “You’re going to be late for your first class if you don’t leave now.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said tersely, taking a bite out of the dry toast in front of me and reaching for the OJ.
Sergio didn’t smile.
Not that I expected him to. He was a lot like Phoenix in that way. They needed a bit of fun in their lives. Good thing I was an expert at entertaining myself; otherwise, I’d probably go insane living with them.
“He’s right.” Phoenix stood and nodded to Ax. “And thanks for the information. I’ll keep a lookout.”
“Study hard.” Sergio coughed into his hand and smirked in Phoenix’s direction.
“Laugh it up, jackass.” Phoenix muttered then tucked a pistol into the back of his skinny jeans, pulling his shirt over the back of it.
“Um…” I pointed. “What are you doing?”
“Standing?”
I rolled my eyes. “No way, really? I didn’t notice you had two legs poking out of that delish body of yours.”
Wow, not even a blush, not a hint of a smirk, just a cold hard stare. Two could play that game.
“How am I supposed to make friends if you shoot them all?” I crossed my arms.
“Girl has a point,” Ax said quietly.
Phoenix moved around the table and grabbed my arm. “We’re going to be late, no arguing. I bring the gun, I keep you safe, you make friends, I only shoot them if they do something that pisses me off.”
“What? Breathe?”
“Sure.” Phoenix nodded. “If they breathe funny, consider them dead. Careful who you choose, little girl.”
I hated him all over again. Hated that it was so easy for him to go from cozy little lasagna moment into cold-blooded killer with the need to distance himself from me in any way possible. Then again, he was touching me. As if on cue, though, he released my arm and wiped his hand on his pants — like I was diseased — and opened the back door leading into the garage.