Page 4 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Don’t touch that.” I race over to him and yank the remaining strands out of his hand. Isn’t this shit illegal? Who would put poison on a tree in the room of a little kid? My jaw flexes as I mark down another issue to discuss with the manager.

It’s bad enough we’re in the middle of nowhere. The last thing I need is for my son to need a hospital. Where in the hell is the closest hospital, anyway?

“I sorry.” He jumps back and stands stiff as a board. Shit. I’m racking up my own points for Worst Father of the Year.

“It’s okay, Buddy.” I ruffle his hair and scan my phone for the closest ER. Twenty minutes. That’s twenty minutes too long.

The suite is gorgeous. It combines modern and masculine leather with an overhead chandelier, a black pit sofa, and a full kitchen and dining room.

On the table is a tray of fruit and cubed cheeses with a large bouquet of brightly colored flowers behind it. The cut strawberries are so red they almost bleed with color. Beside them are green grapes and slices of yellow, red, and green apples. Tucked next to the vase is a bottle of champagne in a golden bucket with a smaller container of iced apple juice beside it.

I must give them credit; this place is nice.

A set of stairs leads to the upper level of the suite, where the bedrooms and bathroom are presumably situated.

I lift Gino off the ground and wrap my arms around his small frame. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I need to ensure those silver things are safe to touch. The government made some of this old stuff illegal.”

“Ill-egal?” His eyes are wide as he stares back.

“Yes.” I grin despite every single ache in my body. “Some tinsel….” When he frowns, I say, “The silver stuff….” He nods as if he understands what I’m talking about. “Is poison.”

“Oh….” Those big blue eyes get even wider. “Like Cin-rella and the apple?”

“Yes, just like Cinderella and the apple. So please don’t touch it until I find out if it’s safe.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Damn kid. I give him a quick hug and set him back on his feet, and off he goes, snooping into everything. He dodges from the tree to crawl under the coffee table and races to the table, snatching a strawberry off the tray.

As he chews on the fruit, he pulls out a chair.

“Be careful.” I rub my fingertips on my forehead. At this point, I don’t know which hurts worse, my head or my knee.

“Yes, Sir.” He scrambles onto the black cushion and leans over the table, yanking open a lid. The box is white with a blackand pink logo, like the truck out front–Lips & Hips. He pulls out a cookie and laughs. “Yum.”

Just as fast as he dashed away from me, he comes back. “Here a cookie.” He shoves it into my hand and runs back to retrieve another one.

The cookie is a masterpiece. It’s a perfectly decorated melted snowman and smells like heaven. I sniff it again–butter, sugar, and vanilla. I savor the scent and frown. And something else. Probably the secret ingredient.

I take a bite, and my eyes roll back into my head. Delicious. The cookie is soft and holds together without flaking. And the frosting…. I need to walk away from this thing.

The doorbell rings, causing Gino to run to the door at full speed with his cookie in hand. “I get.”

“Be–” Fuck it. I’m tired of always telling the kid to be careful, like I’m a broken record. I take another bite of cookie and sit the rest on a black napkin.

Gino yanks the door open to my brother, Marco, and his son, Angelo.

“Hey, Gino.” Marco laughs as he walks inside the suite, shuts the door, and wrinkles his nose. “You look like you’ve been on a month-long bender. Is that apple sauce on your shirt?”

“Kiss my a….” Little ears. Little ears. “Mind your own business.” I flop onto the oversized sofa and pull my pant leg up, exposing a jagged crisscrossed scar with red puffy skin and black stubble where the hairs are starting to grow back in. I shift my leg from left to right and back again, looking for any new injuries, but it looks fine. The scars are tender, which is likely what was hurting when the woman ran into me.

“Like your new accessory? It probably gets you all the women since they love the wounded, alpha hero with an adorable kid.”

“I don’t have time for women.” I yank the fabric back over my leg.

“Be good, baby.” Marco kisses Angelo on the top of the head and calls Gino over to play. This is going to end badly. My kid is a wrecking ball, and Angelo is barely over one.

“I don’t think you should–”

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