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“Yeah, she even slaughtered a pig once. When I was a kid, she kept it in the backyard and I’d go to pet it. She’d tell me, ‘No, Taddeo. Don’t get attached. He’s for the butcher’s block soon.’”
Sadness crossed her brow. “That’s awful!”
It was, but then as a kid, he had been a sensitive soul. He went into a funk when he lost at soccer. Girls were more likely to break his heart than the other way around. And that damn pig had plucked on every heartstring.
“I thought so, too. I ran away with him. Got as far as Tony and Frankie’s, but Cara turned fink when he ate one of her shoes.”
“Cara,” she muttered, shaking her head in sympathy.
“A week later we were eating bacon morning, noon, and night. Poor Ulysses.” At her arched eyebrow, he added, “I was on a James Joyce kick.”
“A pig in the backyard and no mercy. Sounds like your mom was quite the woman.”
“She was.”
Somewhere along the way, he had leaned on the bar and she had stepped in closer.
Every time he opened up to Jules about his mom, another layer of the mortar cemented around his heart seemed to melt away. It still hurt, but not quite as much.
“So…”How are your dates going? Have you found the love of your life yet? Do youmiss me even half as much as I miss you?
“So,” she said, backing away from what he now realized was a hot-enough-to-scorch stare. “I’d better get going. I have to relieve Frankie from Demon Watch.”
Her parting look was an “are we okay here?” and he returned it with a confirming smile. His face ached with how okay they were.
“Maybe we could do a movie and pizza one night,” he said as she walked away.
Her shrug cheered him by degrees. “Sure, you know where to find me.” And then she was gone, taking the scent of oranges and happy and Jules with her. Taking some piece of his chest as well.
It took him a moment to realize that Kennedy was waving a hand in front of his gormless face.
“Earth to Tad.”
“What?” he snapped, tearing his gaze away from the door.
“Just do each other already, would you?”
If only it were that easy. Doing each other was no longer going to cut it.
Twenty-Seven
Jules was in a killing mood, and Cara DeLuca was first on her list. Next would be her online dating profile because that needed to die a quick death. Frustrated at what Cara perceived as Jules’s distinct lack of progress in the dating arena, the bloody busybody had set her up on a date.
He runs his own construction business,Cara had said.But he doesn’t get his handsdirty; he orders people around.She had a glint in her eye when she said that, as if Jules was supposed to get all stirred up at the thought of a guy ordering people around. Bet he’s bossy in the bedroom, her innuendo made clear.
Worst of all was the location for the date: Vivi’s. That was Cara’s idea, too—or Cara posing as Jules. She sent an e-mail trying to cancel to Construction Dan but he didn’t respond and now she didn’t want to leave him hanging. She would pop her head into Vivi’s at zero hour, or 6:30 p.m.—rather early for a date, perhaps he was used to eating with his elderly mother—and tell him it had all been a dreadful mistake or she had a headache or her cat had died.
Then she would strangle Cara slowly and gleefully.
Thankfully, Tad wouldn’t be there until 7 p.m. He was taking part in a wine tasting event on the other side of town, so she could slip in and out, take care of business, and move on without muss or fuss.
Bella smiled a little dimly at her when she came in, still no light bulb of recognition. Either she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed or it was a calculated move to dismiss the competition. Not that Jules was competition for anyone, but she had seen how the girl looked at Tad. It was the same way all women looked at Tad—a cross between wet-your-panties lust and something more feral, where the likelihood of fangs-bearing increased with every second.
“Hey, B,” Jules said, enjoying immensely how Bella’s eyes narrowed at the faux intimacy. Jules scanned the room quickly. Three of the fifteen tables were occupied with couples and the bar was lousy with overdone, underdressed women. Charter members of the Hot Taddies club, by the looks of it. They were making do with bartender Reuben who, while handsome in a blank sort of way, was in no way a legitimate substitute for the owner. Early eating Dan had yet to arrive.
“How many?” Bella asked, still with that vacant look where Jules couldn’t be sure if she had connected the dots.
“Zero,” Jules replied, her eyes drawn to Kennedy, who had just exited the kitchen.
