AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I live on the second floor of a blocky, no-frills, three-story apartment building. My apartment looks out over the parking lot, which is fine by me. Most of the residents in my building are seniors. They're home in front of their televisions before the sun goes down, so the lot side is quiet at night.
I exited my apartment and locked up behind myself. I took the elevator to the small ground-floor lobby, pushed through the double glass doors, and crossed the lot to my car. I was driving a dark green Saturn SL-2. The Saturn had been the special of the day at Generous George's Used Car Emporium. I'd actually wanted a Lexus SC430, but Generous George thought the Saturn was more in line with my budget constraints.
I slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine over. I was heading off to apply for a job at the button factory and I was feeling down about it. I was telling myself it was a new beginning, but truth is, it felt more like a sad ending. I turned onto Hamilton and drove a couple blocks to Tasty Pastry Bakery, thinking a doughnut would be just the thing to brighten my mood.
Five minutes later, I was on the sidewalk in front of the bakery, doughnut bag in hand, and I was face-to-face with Morelli. He was wearing jeans and scuffed boots and a black V-neck sweater over a black T-shirt. Morelli is six feet of lean, hard muscle and hot Italian libido. He's Jersey guy smart, and he's not a man you'd want to annoy . . . unless you're me. I've been annoying Morelli all my life.
“I was driving by and saw you go in,” Morelli said. He was standing close, smiling down at me, eyeing the bakery bag. “Boston creams?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“I needed happy food.”
“You should have called me,” he said, hooking his finger into the neckline of my white tank, pulling the neck out to take a look inside. “I have just the thing to make you happy.”
I've cohabitated with Morelli from time to time and I knew this to be true.
“I have stuff to do this afternoon and doughnuts take less time.”
“Cupcake, I haven't seen you in weeks. I could set a new land speed record for getting happy.”
“Yeah, but that would be your happiness,” I said, opening the bag, sharing the doughnuts with Morelli. “What about mine?”
“Your happiness would be top priority.”
I took a bite of doughnut. “Tempting, but no. I have a job interview at the button factory. I'm done with bond enforcement.”
“When did this happen?”
“About an hour ago,” I said. “Okay, I don't actually have an interview appointment, but Karen Slobodsky works in the personnel office, and she said I should look her up if I ever wanted a job.”
“I could give you a job,” Morelli said. “The pay wouldn't be great but the benefits would be pretty decent.”
“Gee,” I said, “that's the second scariest offer I've had today.”
“And the scariest offer would be?”
I didn't think it was smart to tell Morelli about Ranger's offer of a hosing down. Morelli was wearing a gun on his hip, and Ranger wore guns on multiple parts of his body. Seemed like a bad idea to say something that might ratchet up the competition between them.
I leaned into Morelli and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “It's too scary to share,” I told him. He felt nice against me, and he tasted like doughnut.
I ran the tip of my tongue along his lower lip. “Yum,” I said.
Morelli's fingers curled into the back of my jacket. “Yum is a little mild for what I'm feeling. And what I'm feeling shouldn't be happening on the sidewalk in front of the bakery. Maybe we could get together tonight.”
“For pizza?”
“Yeah, that too.”
I'd been taking a time-out from Morelli and Ranger, hoping to get a better grip on my feelings, but I wasn't making much progress. It was like choosing between birthday cake and a big-boy margarita. How could I possibly decide?
And probably I'd be better off without either, but jeez, that wouldn't be any fun.
“Okay,” I said. “I'll meet you at Pino's.”
“I was thinking my house. The Mets are playing and Bob misses you.”
Bob is Morelli's dog. Bob is a big, orange, incredibly huggable shaggy-haired monster with an eating disorder. Bob eats everything.
“No fair,” I said. “You're using Bob to lure me to your house.”
