Sylvia Day - Aftershock

“He is. But he can also be playful. And funny. He makes me laugh every day.”

She grinned. “Look at that smile on your face. Almost makes up for his conservative politics.”

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to get into a discussion about Lynn’s liberal views. I left that to my dad, who loved to talk to her about their similar stances on issues. “That’s not to say he can’t be stubborn, irrational, frustrating—”

“A man.”

“Yeah.”

“So...speaking of politics.”

“We weren’t,” I said firmly.

She gave me a toothy grin. “ I was. You manage to get the tribe all together in one place yet?”

“Not yet.” My feet tapped on the brass foot rail. “Shooting for a brunch this Saturday. It’s the only time we could get everyone together.”

“God. You’re going to have to give me all the details. Wish I could listen in. That’s going to be a hell of a brunch.”

She wasn’t wrong. In most ways, the Rossis and Rutledges were two different breeds of family.

I took a bite of a crostini, then glanced at my smartphone as it buzzed on the bar. The text message from Jax made me smile. Bring home lasagna.

Lynn glanced at it, too. “Girl, don’t tell me the romance is over already.”

My phone vibrated again. I’ve got the gelato to lick off your body....

She laughed and I laughed with her.

“I need a boyfriend.” Her gaze slid over to where Vincent was shaking up a drink. “Or a booty call.”

I distracted her from my heartbreaker of a brother. “How’s work?”

“Busy.” She played with her long necklaces. “Internet sales are really picking up. If my rent and taxes keep going up, too, I may close the store and just focus on the online business.”

“Really? But you love that store!” I knew how hard Lynn had worked to open it, and how much she’d wanted to prove that her jewelry making and pottery weren’t just worthless hobbies.

She shrugged, but I could see it bothered her. “Wouldn’t be so bad to set my own hours and have more time to come up with new concepts. I could also travel to more conventions and shows, which might be better for me.”

I wanted to keep her thinking positively. “I could use more of your business cards. I wore your amethyst earrings to a party last week and got a ton of compliments on them.”

“Yeah?” She brightened. “That’s great. Thank you.”

I gestured for Vincent to refill our beers, while Lynn pulled some business cards out of her behemoth of a purse.

“How’s work going for you?” she asked when she handed them over.

“Good.”

“You still love it?”

“I do, yes.” I smiled at Vincent as he set two fresh, full glasses in front of us and took the others away.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

I shot my best friend a narrowed glance. She was too perceptive. “Nothing.”

“And your boss is totally okay with you and Jackson?” she prodded.

Sighing, I picked up another crostini. “We don’t talk about it. Which is okay, because she’s my boss and not my friend, but still....”

“You think she’s got a problem with it?”

“I’d say she’s taking it pretty well, considering I’m living with the guy who is doing business with the man who screwed her over. She still trusts me with sensitive information. But there’s...something between us that wasn’t there before.” And that bothered me. A lot.

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do?” I chewed and swallowed, chasing the toast down with a swig of beer. “I figure she’s waiting to see how it all shakes out. After enough time passes, maybe she’ll feel better about the whole thing.”

Lynn wrinkled her nose. “Have you talked to Jackson?”

“Can’t. He’s a fixer. He’ll want to step in and smooth things over, and that might make things even more uncomfortable.”

“That’s probably the best endorsement you could’ve made for him in my eyes. Every gal wants their best friend to end up with a guy willing to slay their dragons.” She winked. “And lick gelato off them.”

Laughing, I turned my head and glanced around the packed restaurant. Walk-in patrons waited in the foyer by reception, while tables were turned with brisk efficiency thanks to my dad’s insistence on a robust service staff. Families mixed with couples and groups, while a popular television star enjoyed the illusion of anonymity at her favorite table. A camera flash caught my eye, luring my attention to what looked to be a birthday party. Above the din of conversation and the clattering of silverware, an Italian tenor sang about love and loss through the speaker system.

Contentment slid through me, as it always did when I was at Rossi’s.

“Did hell just freeze over?” Lynn asked, bringing my gaze back to her.

“Huh?”

She gestured with a jerk of her chin and I followed. Blinking, I took in the sight of my dad standing beside Ted Rutledge, who had his arm tossed across his shoulders. Ted was dressed in a suit and tie, while my father wore his usual white chef’s coat, black pants, and red Rossi’s apron. Giovanni Rossi remained a striking man, with a full head of salt and pepper hair, and a strong jaw. A photographer snapped their photo.

“Hard to tell from here,” she said. “Is that a campaign button on his shirt?”

I looked at my dad first, then at Ted. Sure enough, Ted had something pinned to his jacket.

“Second time he’s been in here this week,” Vincent said behind me.

When I looked at my brother, I saw the muscle ticcing in his jaw.

“I didn’t know anything about this,” I told him.

“Yeah?” His brown eyes were hard. “Can Jackson say that?”

Lynn took off around eight, but I decided to stay and wait until closing, so I could talk to my dad. I also decided to head back to the loft with Angelo and Vincent.

Because I didn’t want to get into it with Jax when I was tired and cranky, I sent a text letting him know I wasn’t coming home, and then dropped my phone back into my purse. I sipped at a glass of anisette decorated with a lemon twist. After seeing my dad with Ted, a liqueur was calming.

I felt Jax enter the restaurant before I saw him. I’d always been attuned to him, but it had gotten more intense since we started living together.

“Gia.” His hands slid possessively over my hips, his warmth radiating into my back.

I glanced at Vincent, who was scowling at us, and spoke over my shoulder to Jax. “What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up.” His arms encircled my waist. “You didn’t really think I was going to let you spend the night somewhere else?”

I finished my drink. “I didn’t realize I was a prisoner.”

He stiffened at my tone, then whispered, “If we’re going to fight, we’ll do it at home.”

“I don’t want to fight, which is why I wasn’t coming home.”

Jax stepped back. “Let’s go.”

“You’re not listening.”

Spinning me around in my seat, he bent over me. “You haven’t said anything yet worth listening to.”

“Excuse me?” I glared at him, trying to ignore how sexy he looked in a black V-neck sweater and loose-fitting jeans.

He set his hands on the bar on either side me, caging me in. “I’m not leaving you here to drink and stew over whatever’s got you pissed off, and I sure as hell am not sleeping alone.”

“Back off, Jackson,” Vincent ordered, coming up to us.

Jax’s head snapped up. “You’re her brother and you’re watching out for her, I respect that. But she’s my girl and I love her, and you need to respect that. Don’t stick your nose in our business.”

“She doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to go.”