Ready for You (21 page)

She drove over to Isabella’s. Really, she should do something for her sister, whose lifestyle would be severely cramped with Chiara and sometimes the boys’ presence. Her palms moistened when she noticed Rocco’s truck parked out front. Her forehead tightened too when she spotted Bobbie’s Lincoln Navigator in the driveway dwarfing Isabella’s Honda Accord. She considered driving away, but she wanted a shower.

“Hello,” she called as she walked in the front door.

Scuffling sounded from the kitchen, so she moved to the doorway. Bobbie, her hands on the back of Rocco’s head, kissed him. Bile rose from Chiara’s stomach and she blinked, black briefly saturated her vision. Rocco pushed Bobbie away and she stumbled, bumping into the chair by the small table. Chiara ran, not waiting to see the expressions on their faces confirmed. Satisfaction had lit Bobbie’s eyes while Rocco’s widened in shame or maybe…Chiara didn’t know.

Her boots clumped onto the sidewalk as she
ran,
her breathing shallow. Rocco yelled her name as the sound of his work boots chased her. She stopped and faced him. Her panting reminded her of when they made love. Her brow furrowed.
Made love--so much for that figment of her imagination.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rocco reached out his hand toward her. She narrowed her eyes. Putting his hands in his pockets, he took a deep breath. The air was heavy. He was ready for the snappy, light fall breezes.

“She kissed me,” he said. It sounded even more piss poor than it had in his mind.

Chiara studied
him,
disgust curled the corners of her mouth. The urge to kiss her, to blot out Bobbie’s sticky glossed lips, almost overtook him.

“Right,” she said. She strode past him, avoiding him as if he smelled bad.

“She said she wanted to show you what a dog I am, that none of them wants you to be with me. She says Santo’s been a wreck.” Rocco walked beside her, taking long strides to keep up with her pace.

“She said that? I don’t believe you.”

“I asked her why she kissed me. Maybe I know some things about her you don’t. She had to tell me.”

They reached Isabella’s driveway. Chiara glanced at him. He wiped his lips again. He should just wash his face.

“We’ll see,” she said.

A corner of his mouth turned up. We--he liked the sound of it. Too bad he didn’t remember that earlier. He should have stood by her instead of letting her words, and the looks of her sons, get to him. It was just hard for him to remember she was going through a divorce. He felt she was already his. The facts of her situation only made his body tighten.

“Bobbie,” Chiara said in a clipped tone as they walked into Isabella’s. Bobbie sat on the couch, flipping through a magazine.

“Oh, Chiara,” Bobbie said, standing. Her fake full of concern voice made Rocco rub his neck. He was going to need a long hot shower. With Chaira would be best. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but
it’s
better you know what he’s like. I know Phil might not be the most exciting man, but he’s so respectful.”

Rocco snorted. Not only did Bobbie imply he was disrespectful, but also she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. Maybe Phil was respectful to most people, but the way he spoke to Chiara, how he must have been treating her, made Rocco bubble with rage.

“My marriage, my life, is my concern, not yours, not Santo’s, not anyone’s,” Chiara said.

“We’re family. We love the boys. You can’t want him to be around your children,” Bobbie said with an up and down look at Rocco. He laughed.

Chiara didn’t. She stared at Bobbie. “Whatever Rocco may have done, he’s a good man, a good father. I’d sooner trust him with Danny and Max than you,” she said.

“No one in the family will accept him, not that you’ll get that far,” Bobbie said as she slung her purse onto her shoulder. “He’ll dump you like he has every other woman. Maybe Santo can talk some sense into you. I’m done trying.”

“Tell him not to bother,” Chiara
said,
her hands on her hips. She was a spitfire. Damn, what a turn-on.

Bobbie huffed out and slammed the door.

Rocco sidled behind Chiara and encircled her waist. Instead of leaning into him as he expected, she tensed.

“I need a shower,” she said.

“Let me help you with that,” he said.

“No,” she whispered.

He dropped his hands. Isabella blew in, a tray of coffees in hand. “Where’d Bobbie go?” she said.
“Hey, So.”

He and Chiara faced Isabella, who set the coffees on the low table. “Did you figure it out?” Isabella asked Rocco.

“Not quite,” he said.
“Too many interruptions.
Bobbie went home.”

“Good. Who wants coffee?” Isabella asked. “The coffee pot broke, can you believe it? Want to go with me to Target later?” she asked Chiara, who stood with her arms crossed.

“Sure,” Chiara said in a quiet voice.

“Thanks,” he said when Isabella handed him a coffee.

“Sorry I don’t have anything else, no snacks or cookies like Chiara would have.”

“Too bad,” he said. “Chiara’s
biscotti is
the tastiest.” Pink crept up Chiara’s neck.

“She can bake,” Isabella said as she sat and sipped her coffee. She tossed the magazine onto the table.

“Mm
hum
,” Rocco said. “Nice to nibble and slowly dunk in and out of coffee before --”

“I’m going to shower,” Chiara said. The rosy color suffused her whole face. Her footsteps echoed down the hall before the bathroom door slammed. That didn’t go exactly how he’d hoped, but she was fun to screw with, in more ways than one.

“Hostage situation over?
No Stockholm syndrome?”

“What?” he said.

“When the hostage becomes attached to the criminal.
Never mind. I don’t want to know. Except, well, you should know that if you hurt my sister Santo and Tomaso will have to wait behind me to kick your ass. Only I don’t believe in violence. But you’ll wish I did. Understand?” She didn’t even sound angry, but totally calm and reasonable. He almost chuckled until he looked her in the eyes. Her hazel eyes shone almost grey, cold and steely.

“I get you,” he said. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is hurt Chiara. I guess you want to get someone else to do the bathroom?”

“Nope, a deal’s a deal. Trying to back out?”

“No. Let me check under the house and then we’ll talk.”

She nodded and he went outside.

By the time he came back in, he really needed a shower. Crawling under houses was not his favorite thing, but it would certainly be worth it if he could get Chiara to come home with him and give him a good scrubbing. After he spoke to Isabella about the details and plans, Chiara
appeared,
her hair still slightly damp, dressed in dark jeans and a blue tee. She curled up on the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest again. She didn’t look like she’d be going anywhere, not with him. He leaned back in the chair where he sat. Her citrus scent muddled his mind for a moment.

“What’s with the nicknames you two have?” he asked. He’d been wondering why they called each other
So
and La.

“Chiara’s favorite movie growing up was ‘The Sound of Music.’ I thought she might want to be a nun, but, like the Julie Andrews character, she wanted a man.” Isabella laughed but Chiara shot her a nasty sneer. “We watched that movie a lot. Our names are from the song ‘Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La…’ get it,
So
comes before La? Well, I thought it was cute when I was six, but later I kept it up to bug Chiara. You have an older brother. You should know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Rocco said. “And Chiara is fun to mess with.”

Isabella laughed. “Careful there, she’s got a nasty temper.”

Chiara compressed her lips together. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

Inside her.
He crossed his legs. “No.”

“I thought we were going to Target,” Chiara said, facing Isabella.

“No need to get snappy,” Isabella said. “What’s going on? I thought the mediation was helping. You seemed so relieved after you had that meeting with your lawyer last month.
Phil giving you a hard time again?”

Rocco sat forward and studied Chiara, who faced her sister.

“No,” Chiara said. “Actually, he has to go out of town on Wednesday, so I’ll be staying with the boys until he gets back on Sunday.”

“Okay,” Isabella said. “When are you starting on the bathroom?” she said to him.

“Tomorrow,” he said. He’d been angling to drag it out so he could spend time in the house with Chiara, but her announcement threw a hurt on that plan.

“Will you be here to let him in?” Isabella said.

Chiara nodded and rose. “We should go. It’s getting late.”

“You two will be tired after shopping,” Rocco said. “How about I take you out for dinner later?” He had to get Chiara alone again. And Shawn would be home the day after tomorrow.

The sisters exchanged a glance. Isabella shrugged.

“No thanks,” Chiara said. It was all her, then. He ran his hand over his head.

“If you change your mind, call me,” he said. He saw himself out.

They never called. He showed up at Isabella’s on Monday morning with Hector, a hard worker who didn’t speak much English. He figured that way he could at least talk to Chiara without the details getting back to anyone. After ringing the doorbell, they waited. He’d even gone to church yesterday, hoping to catch Chiara, but she wasn’t there. He’d wondered if she was home, since she still hadn’t answered the doorbell after two rings, but he’d parked right behind her car. Just as he and Hector shrugged at each other, Chiara opened the door. Not looking at him, she walked away. Her hair hung, oily, she must not have showered, and she wore a blue bathrobe and slippers. It was only eight, but still, he hadn’t expected her to let anyone see her like that, she was always so together looking.

“Good morning,” he said. He shut the door and followed Chiara down the hall. She stopped just past the kitchen doorway.

“I meant to make some coffee,” she said without turning around. “Sorry, I guess I fell back asleep.”

“We’re fine,” he said. “We’ll get to work.” He would have watched her trudge down to her room, but Hector stood behind him, shifting his feet. He was antsy to work.

After instructing Hector to hang plastic sheeting, Rocco made some coffee and toast. He took the plate of toast and a mug of coffee down to Chiara’s room and knocked on the door.

“Did you need something,” she asked. She sounded tired. She held the door with one hand and clutched the front of her robe with the other.

“I guessed you hadn’t eaten. I made you something,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the stacked plate and mug from him. Finally, she looked him in the eyes. “I don’t deserve…sympathy. I don’t even want it, not from you.”

“Who says?”

“Lots of people,” she said. She put the plate on the empty dresser top and plopped onto the bed.
“Isabella, for one.
Told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, to get on with my life.
Those boys have been my life for the last seven years,” she whispered. “She said that’s my own fault. I didn’t think it was a fault.”

He wanted to give her family a group smack upside the head. Sitting next to her, he tried to hug her only she pushed him away and backed up, pressing herself to the wall.

“I don’t want you in here.” Her voice, low and unsure, told him the truth.

“Let me--”

“No, get out,” she said. She closed her eyes, but it was too late. A few tears tracked down her cheeks.

He nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. As he and Hector worked, Rocco vented his frustrations on the wall that had to come down. Too bad breaking down Chiara’s walls wasn’t as simple.

She avoided him, staying in the other part of the house all morning. He and Hector went to get lunch and he assumed she must have eaten while they were out, unless she was starving herself. At the rate they worked, he and Hector would have the bathroom done in a week, barring the inspections. He had to get Chiara to see that they should be together.

Before they left, he knocked on her door.

“Yes?” she said from inside.

He tried to open the door. It was locked.

“We’re going. See you tomorrow.”

“I have a job interview,” she shouted. “I’ll leave a key under the mat.”

He didn’t bother to answer. Being nice about things sure didn’t get the results being a selfish asshole produced. Maybe he should gag his conscience for awhile. It would be in a good cause.

By Wednesday, he hadn’t seen Chiara. He snapped at Shawn every evening and then paced his room every night. He couldn’t live like this. On Wednesday afternoon, he called Isabella and told her he needed to keep her key so he could finish up on Friday. Leaving a few small items undone, he left with a smile on his face.