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“She needs us.”
“Agreed, but she hasn’t asked.”
“I’m asking.”
He sighs and grumbles, “Hammer?—”
“She’s mine, okay?” I finally say. There, I said it. And it felt good. It’s also fucking crazy! Two fucking days and I’m claiming this woman.
She’s from a completely different world. Francesca is champagne and caviar, and I’m beer and pretzels. Even her jean are haute couture, and I’m Levi’s and leather jackets. Highbrow versus working class. Shit, how the hell is this going to work?
Frankie wriggles in her sleep, tucking a hand under her cheek, her pouty lips turned up to me. Damn it to hell, she’s wreaking havoc with my senses. All I can think about is taking care of her.
“Yeah, man. I’m fine with that. Does she know?”
“Are you going to help me?” I ask, beginning to lose my patience.
He chuckles. “You got it bad. Almost as bad as I was when I saw Ava for the first time,” he says. “I’ll call a meeting. I don’t think it will be a problem, but this goes to a vote. We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“I’d rather do it tonight,” I say. The sooner the guys are onboard, the easier it will be to find out what the hell is causing Francesca this much angst.
“Seven tonight.”
“I’ll be there,” I respond before hanging up.
I’ve got a while before I’m due at the club. I might as well settle in and watch the game. I’ll wake Francesca in a couple of hours.
* * *
“You made me dinner?” Francesca says when she joins me in the kitchen. She disappeared almost an hour ago to take a long-distance call. She didn’t seem too pleased when she checked her caller ID and promptly excused herself. I got a look at the number and tapped it into my phone. I’ll have Orion check to see who it belongs to later.
“I hope you don’t mind. Nothing fancy, but I made some tacos. Do you like tacos?” I ask.
“I love them,” she exclaims.
“Almost ready. I need to chop up the tomatoes and lettuce. I’ve got the salsa and sour cream on the table already.”
“Can I help?”
“Plates and cutlery.” I shrug. Frankie maneuvers in behind me, her body brushing mine as she reaches for the plates and sets the table. She sets all the condiments on the table, and I put the rest on the table.
“This is really good,” she says while the taco is falling apart in her hands. “Messy, but good.”
I take a napkin and wipe the salsa from the corner of her mouth.
I want to kiss her.
She smiles, and her eyes twinkle with happiness.
I really want to kiss her.
“I like you,” I blurt out.
Her jaw drops. Then she swallows and clears her throat.
“You don’t know me, Hammer.” She lowers her lids, peering through her lashes. “There’s a lot that you aren’t aware of, and that might change your mind,” she says quietly.
“I want to get to know you. I think you want the same. Am I wrong?” I put it out there. There’s no point in skirting around the issue, and I’ve always gone for what I want.
