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Her response made my cock twitch. I sure as hell liked the thought of her handling me—or, rather, handling certain parts of me.
I pushed myself out of the chair, taking a moment to get my balance. I waved away the hand that Matteo offered and made my way to the passenger side.
Piper hurried after me. “You’re not supposed to do that on your own.”
I opened the car door and tried not to show that I was hanging onto it for balance. “I do a lot of things I’m not supposed to do.”
She grinned. “So I gather.”
God, her lips were sexy. Perfectly pink and slightly swollen. I could only imagine how swollen they’d be if I kissed her the way Cesare had. “Give me a few days to heal, and then I’ll show you what I can do,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Piper laughed. She was well used to my come-ons after the past couple of days. As a nurse, she also knew that I wasn’t up for anything more than talk, at least not yet. But I sure as hell wanted to look her up once I was.
She fussed over me, insisting on buckling me in. It made me feel like a fucking baby, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to protest at the way her breasts pressed against my chest as she leaned over me. It gave me something fun to think about while she reiterated the pertinent parts of my recovery plan. After a few moments, she seemed to realize that my mind was elsewhere and directed her words to Matteo, who nodded.
Then she turned back to me, her hand resting lightly on my thigh. “Take care of yourself, Leo.”
Heat radiated outward from her touch. I focused on her vivid green eyes, ignoring the slight scoff from behind me. No, Leo wasn’t my name, any more than Leonardo was. My mom had named me Leon, the plainest name on the planet. But I kind of liked that Piper had settled on calling me Leo. In her voice, it sounded fresh and new—like the kind of man I sometimes wanted to be. “Thank you.”
I said the words as sincerely as I could, and I was pleased that Piper seemed to recognize that. The warmth in her gaze was as searing as the touch of her hand.
Then we took off, and I watched her in the side mirror until we made a turn and she was out of sight.
Dammit.
“Looks like you made a new friend,” Matteo said, his eyes on the road.
“Yep.”
“Just remember, Cesare saw her first.”
What the fuck? “Unless he was the one wheeled in on a stretcher, I doubt that.”
Matteo’s mouth tightened. “He kissed her first, I mean.”
“So what does that mean, that he’s got dibs? We aren’t in grade school. Besides, she kissed him. To trick those assholes into backing off.”
Matteo frowned. “You were awake for that part?”
“Yes,” I said. But just barely. “Who were those guys anyway?”
“Cesare and I have some theories.”
I waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Guess we’d talk about it when Cesare was there. He was our leader, but not an authoritarian motherfucker on a power trip. We were a three-man crew, and we all had our roles. He and Matteo were cousins, but they were as close as brothers. Sometimes, it seemed like they could read each other’s minds.
In middle school, I saw them around, but I was two years younger. It wasn’t until high school that we became friends, hanging out, shooting hoops, and generally causing a lot of trouble. The kind that got us frequently suspended from school and on the radar of the local police.
But after high school, Matteo decided to clean up his act and join the fucking army, for some reason. I’d never understand why someone would volunteer to get screamed at by some asshole drill sergeant in preparation for being shipped someplace where they’d be shot at. Having recently been shot made that idea seem even more fucked up.
Once Matteo had chosen to be all that he could be, Cesare and I became closer since it was just the two of us. Now it felt like both of them were my brothers even there was no shared blood between us.
“You feeling good enough to get some food?” Matteo asked once we were near the neighborhood. “Cesare said he could meet us at Marina’s.” He paused, glancing my way. “Or I could take you home, but don’t expect me to tuck you into bed like Nurse Hottie back there.”
“I could eat.” Especially something that wasn’t hospital food. The doctors and nurses knew their stuff, but the kitchen had clearly never heard of seasoning. And if Cesare had seen what the limp noodles they’d served under the guise of pasta, he’d have shot up the place.
It turned out to be the right choice. Marina’s bar was the complete opposite of the sterile, featureless hospital room. The place was loud. The beer wasn’t cold. The fries were soggy. But it was just what I needed to feel like myself again.
By the time Cesare and Matteo were done with their second beers—they’d made me stop after one since I was still on pain meds—talk turned to our failed mission.
