Page 46 of Hooked on Trouble

Now I’m outside a random house, no idea whose party I’m crashing. His gas guzzler is parked on the driveway next to a rusted Honda Civic. A sullen, dark-haired kid pushes by on a skateboard, his skills not half-bad. I used to be okay on a board, ear buds in, the Sex Pistols blaring as I rolled down the street. I’d felt pretty badass.

The kid in question flips his board around, skates toward me, and stops at my feet. “You Raven?”

I glance around, unsure how he knows my name. “Last I checked. And you are?”

He kicks up his board and scratches his hip, nearly sending his shorts to his knees. At least his basketball jersey hits mid-thigh. “I’m Colin. Nico’s my uncle.”

With that he walks to the door, and I stare after him.

Nico is his uncle.

Unsure what to expect tonight, I wore a black mini skirt, tank top, and my favorite heeled boots laced to my calves—the type of outfit that would draw a certain Sexy Beast’s attention to my legs. In that particular fantasy, Nico growled and dragged me into a dark corner to have his dirty way with me, but his nephew didn’t make an appearance in my imagined scene. Not even a cameo. Now I’m about to meet his family while wearing a pair of hooker heels. Not that I have anything pleated or khaki in my wardrobe. Still, if I knew where I was going, I might not have chosen such a short skirt. I might not have gone so heavy on the eye shadow.

What if they don’t like me?

Shocked at how fast my heart races, I swivel on my heels to leave. I’m two stomps away when the man himself calls, “Raven!”

Heavy footfalls pound behind me, but I don’t glance back. No point acknowledging a traitor.

“Raven, babe, I’m sorry.”

I flip around and poke a finger at his (I’d kill to lick chocolate sauce off of it) chest. “Don’t babe me. At what point did you plan on sharing the fact that I’d be meeting your family? What did you even tell them about me?”

He has the decency to look guilty, and his hand, for some reason, hangs over his (I’d kill to lick chocolate sauce off of it) groin. “Tonight was a bit of a celebration. Josh got his GED recently. We had cake that day, but my mom wanted to do a proper dinner, too. Make a big deal of it. She’s been planning it for a while, and I told them I was bringing a friend who just moved to the area.”

“A friend, huh? Meeting the family?” Feels more like a lamb being led to the slaughter. I’ve never walked the meet-the-family road. Never worried if I’d pass or fail some arbitrary test. With Nico, I suddenly care. A lot.

“I’d rather tell them you’re my girlfriend, but that’s up to you.” He sighs and stabs his toe into the curb. “I don’t want to rush you, but this is important to me. Important for me to show you how wrong I was the other day. I want you to know my family. To really know me.”

That sweet vulnerability softens my shoulder blades down my back. “You want to tell them I’m your girlfriend?”

It’s touching how hard he’s trying to make up for his actions, but I can’t focus on much besides that word. That label. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend.

He slips a hand around my back and hauls me to him, heat in his eyes. “You’re mine, Raven. We’re together. You and me. I’d like to announce it to the whole goddamn world, but I’ll let you set the pace.”

The pace I’d like to set involves the sound of skin slapping as he pounds into me.

Unfortunately, someone calls, “Dinner’s ready!”

I jump back and tug down my too-short skirt as the reality of this evening slams home. The door shuts, and I glare at Nico. It’s either that or hurl myself at him. “I still think springing your family on me was an asshole move, but I will be the better person in this situation and join you…as your girlfriend.” I struggle to fight my grin. He licks his lips, not bothering to hide his perusal of my legs. The exact reaction I’d hoped for when choosing this outfit. “Don’t get all cocky, big guy. You still have atoning to do.”

“You name it, it’s yours.”

Now those are the kind of parameters I can work with.

* * *

By the end of dinner, I’ve completely forgotten about my outfit. Josh has the table in stitches, telling a childhood story about the time Nikki dared him to shove peas up his nose. Across from me, Nico laughs around a bite of mashed potatoes, shaking his head at the memory, while his nephews each grab carrot sticks and imitate Josh’s stunt.

Every member of Nico’s family greeted me warmly when I came in. No measured glances. No searching questions. His mom, Anna, asked about my move and job, never lacing judgment into her tone. Instead of raising an eyebrow at my wardrobe, his sister, Nikki, admired my tattoos, and Josh talked about one he was sketching for himself. Both young boys hung off Josh, bugging their uncle to listen to this song or show them that karate move. At dinner all conversation flowed around Josh, too. His GED. His sketching. Stupid things he did as a kid.

The entire family orbits around him.

It was one thing for Nico to share how broken up he was about Josh’s future, how scared he was to tell his brother the case was falling apart. But now, seeing how Josh lights up his family, dread settles in my bones. Nico may be big and strong, but even great walls tumble.

“You boys were raised by wolves.” Nikki reaches over the table to tug the carrots from the kids’ nostrils. The action knocks over the gravy, spilling it across the plastic tablecloth and onto Josh’s jeans. Nikki freezes. “Shoot.”

Josh squints like he’s going to backhand her across the face, and I hold my breath. Once, at home, I spilled juice on my father, and he threw a knife at me.