Page 91 of Married with Mayhem

Monte lifts his hand with a wave. I try to guess which of those fingers was inside me last night.

I wave back and then help Anni roll up the picnic quilt. On the walk to Luca’s car, I look over my shoulder in the hopes of catching one last glimpse of Monte’s hot ass riding around on horseback.

He’s in exactly the same spot, leaning slightly forward in the saddle. The brim of the baseball cap shades his eyes but I’m positive he’s staring at me.

18

SABRINA

The sky is dark and I’m helping my mother clean up the kitchen when Cale’s pickup truck finally pulls up to the curb in front of the house.

Mama is already waiting with the kitchen door open as Monte strolls in with three foil-covered pie plates balanced in his hands. There’s dirt on his right cheek, which still shows a bruise from his clash with Vittorio’s men. More dirt is smudged on the knees of his jeans and the front of his shirt. His baseball cap has been flipped backwards.

He looks sweaty and sexy and beyond excellent. If my phone was handy, I’d snap a picture.

“What’s all of this?” Mama gestures to the food in his hands. “I made dinner. There’s a plate of eggplant for you in the fridge.”

“Pies from Peggy.” Monte sets them down on the counter. “Peggy claims we’re all skin and bones so we clearly need to eat more.”

Mama looks miffed over the insinuation that her family must be hungry. That’s the kind of accusation she takes very personally.

Monte removes his Yankees cap and gives me a smile. My ovaries convulse.

“Sabrina,” Mama says with a sharp clap of her hands. “You’re wasting water.”

Guilty. I was so busy gaping at Monte that I just left the kitchen faucet running full blast.

Monte leans against the counter, mere inches away. He crosses his thick arms and his dark eyes remain intently fixed on me while I shut the water off and fold a yellow dishtowel.

“Sit,” Mama orders once she retrieves Monte’s dinner from the fridge. “Do you want some grated parmesan?”

“Sure,” Monte says without shifting his eyes. “Thanks.”

Mama happily sets a place for him at the table and covers his food with a tablespoon of grated cheese. “Sabrina helped with dinner,” she says with pride.

“Is that right?” Monte, never one to feel shame, deliberately lets his gaze flicker over my boobs.

I shift my position, arching closer to give him a better view. “I dipped the eggplant slices in breadcrumbs.”

Monte clucks his tongue. “That must have made such a mess out of you, Brina.”

And I choke on thin air.

This must be something only I am capable of doing. In my defense, I wasn’t prepared to hear him casually repeat some of the words he said in my ear last night.

“Look what happened, Brina. I made such a mess out of you…”

A bolt of sex-fueled angst flips my belly over. My thighs clench together. All possible comebacks melt into garbled soup inside my head.

Monte notes my reaction with a smirk. He bends down and kisses my cheek. He smells like grass and damp soil and testosterone. I come pretty close to moaning out loud.

Meanwhile, Mama is beaming at the sight of this casual display of affection between us. She pulls Monte’s chair out and commands him to sit. She’s taken quite a liking to Monte and continues to hover over him until he forks up a few bites of eggplant parmesan.

He chews slowly and swallows a bite. “The sauce is really good. You made it from scratch, huh?”

She practically jumps up and down. “You can tell!”

He nods. “I know the taste of San Marzano peeled tomatoes. It’s a staple at Gino’s. My dad buys the imported cans by the gross.”

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