Page 20 of Craving Francesca

“She’s lasted longer than I thought she would,” Titus added. “He’s not her type.”

“Too…clean,” Rumi joked. “Man’s never had grease under his nails.”

“Shit, he’s never had dirt under his nails,” Brody countered.

“Why do you care?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. Was Brody into Frankie? I’d never noticed anything between them, but it could’ve been a new development.

“Because he’s a wet fuckin’ blanket,” Brody replied, widening his eyes. “And we can’t hang with Frank without her little boy toy tagging along. So, we either don’t invite Frank—”

“Never fuckin’ happenin’,” Titus cut in.

Brody nodded. “Or we have to hang with boring ass Scott all night.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

“It is,” Brody said with a sigh, disappearing.

“Maybe we can convince her to break up with him,” Rumi spitballed. “Anyone know a prostitute?”

“We’re not hiring Frankie’s man a prostitute,” Titus argued.

My stomach clenched. I wished they’d shut up.

“Callin’ him her man is a little premature, don’t you think?”

“Whatever he is, I’m not gonna hurt Frankie to get rid of him.”

“He treats her well?” I asked before my mouth caught up with my head.

“Seems like it,” Brody said, his head and shoulders still hidden by the roof of the car. “Just—”

“Can’t even tell if Frank’s into him,” Rumi called, rounding the other’s car hood. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“But he’s still fuckin’present.” Brody smacked the side of the Mustang.

“Watch the paint, dipshit,” I warned.

“Shit, my bad.”

“Let it run its natural course,” Titus ordered, his voice muffled. “It’s not like she’s gonna marry the guy.”

That was enough.

Pulling my earbuds out of my pocket, I popped them into my ears. I didn’t bother with music. The noise canceling was all I needed. Eventually Brody wandered away.

It was hard to admit I was curious about this guy Frankie was spending time with. She’d said they worked together, and I was pretty sure she worked for some big contractor. If he wascleanlike the boys said, he must be one of the suits. I couldn’t picture it.

Frankie was wild. She could keep up drinking with the boys, was up for any dare they dished out, swore like a trucker most of the time, and generally raised hell wherever she went. She was a trip. How the hell had she ended up with some clean-cut suit?

I tried focusing on the wiring I was threading through the dash, but I my thoughts kept straying to her. I’d never seen the softer side of Frankie until we’d hooked up. I’d considered it an anomaly until I’d helped her make her bed, and I’d noticed the same thing. When it was just Francesca and me, she was different. Softer. She still had a mouth on her and attitude to spare, but it was different somehow.

Leaning back in the seat, I gave up trying to focus and thought about that first night. She’d been dancing and joking with the boys and being a menace, and I’d been fucking gone for her. The way she moved, the way she laughed, those little jean shorts that hung on her hips until she leaned over the bar, and they pulled tight over her ass, the dark hair that fell down her back in messy waves and curls, she was a goddamn wet dream.

I got laid plenty. I’d been casually dating Emma for over a year. She was a real estate agent who worked odd hours and was usually up for hanging out when I had the time. It was a comfortable thing, and the sex was great, but it wasn’t going anywhere, and we’d never been exclusive. She liked having someone to call when she was bored, but I didn’t think she cared beyond that, which was perfect. If she’d started making any kind of demands, we would’ve been done within a month. I liked Emma fine, but we came from backgrounds too different to ever make the situation permanent. Plus, she was a bitch and not in the way that was entertaining.

I’d never had a hard time finding someone to take home, good genes made that part easy. I just hadn’t ever found someone I’d want to tie myself to. Being surrounded by incredible women my entire life had left me a bit jaded. I loved women, the way they moved and smelled and thought, but I was picky. If I didn’t want to bring one home to meet my mother, then she wasn’t it.

“You takin’ a nap?” my dad asked, startling the shit out of me.

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