“Did your mom try that muffin recipe I sent you?” I asked curiously. From our conversations, I knew he and his family were close and that his mom couldn’t cook to save her life. I’d put together a simple recipe to try to help.
He chuckled. “Yeah, though I don’t think the result was the same as when you make them. Unless you make charred cement balls of dough,” he added.
“But I added step-by-step instructions,” I replied in confusion.
“Baby, my mom burns toast,” he explained patiently. “I’ll bring you up once some of the heat dies down, and you can show her how to make them in person. She’d love that.”
I shifted my gaze away from his. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Why are you changing the subject?” he pressed. We hadn’t known each other long, but somehow he could already read me like a book.
I sighed. “Because I think you’re living in a fantasy, Maddox. Your family, your club would never trust me. And my uncle would probably kill you,” I added, sharing my greatest fear about us spending time together.
He squeezed my calf. “I can take care of myself. And my family and club will understand.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Oh yeah? So they know about me?” I challenged.
“They don’t. But not because of what you’re thinkin’,” he was quick to add when I bristled. “I trust my club but I don’t want it getting out that you’re helping with the Rossi shit,” he explained. “Protecting you is my top priority.”
“I’m a Rossi, Maddox.” I stated the obvious. “You can’t forget that.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he assured me calmly. “It’s also just a name—it doesn’t have to define you.”
I pulled my legs away from him, rising from the couch in agitation. Emotion clogged my throat, tears stinging my eyes as I picked up our dirty plates, needing some space. I made my way to the kitchen and scrubbed at the dishes with unnecessary vigor.
It was only a moment before two strong arms appeared on either side of me, his hands braced on the counter effectively caging me in. He reached over, turning the faucet off. “I hit a nerve,” he remarked quietly.
I nodded.
“You want to tell me why?”
I looked down at the suds swirling in the sink, debating how to answer him. The truth was, no one had wanted to get to know me in so long—no one had tried to be close. It was almost a foreign concept to me. “I’m not trying to play games or be deliberately cold,” I explained quietly. “But trust isn’t an easy thing for me and we don’t know each other very well.”
“I haven’t earned it,” he surmised, more to himself than to me.
“I’m not a prize,” I argued.
He turned me gently so that my back was to the counter, still caged within his arms. He was impossibly close as he peered down at me. “Yeah, sweets. You are.”
“Sweets, baby, wake up.” Maddox’s deep voice came to me through a dream.
“Hmm?” I mumbled, wondering why my bed was so hard and smelled so darn good. Then I realized with a jolt that I’d fallen asleep on top of Maddox on the couch. I struggled to get up, but his strong arms held me in place.
“Wait, stay just a minute longer,” he coaxed, pulling me back down toward him.
I complied, reveling in the feeling of his hands stroking my hair and down my back. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
“You can fall asleep on top of me anytime,” he replied, sounding sincere. “I should go soon though. I assume you have to be up soon.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly four.”
I was shocked how well I’d slept and how peaceful my dreams had been. “I do have to get ready soon. Luckily my commute is pretty good,” I quipped.
“I like your place,” he noted for the first time.
I nodded against his chest. “It’s small but cozy. It was the first place my grandparents lived together, so it has a lot of sentimental meaning. It was just an empty space below for the years it took them to build out the bakery.”
