Page 111 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“Long enough to threaten to kill him.”
I smile at her. “I’d do anything for my sister. Would you like me to threaten to kill someone for you too? Turn me in their direction and set me loose. I have plenty of unprocessed anger to release.”
“I guess I do too,” she says, her expression becoming more serious. “I shouldn’t have unleashed it on you. Even if you can be insufferable.”
I reach up and run my fingers over her jaw, then cup my hand around her chin. “You can unleash your rage on me any time, Lucia. I can take it. Will you see me again?”
She pauses, her gaze unwavering. “Yes, but I meant what I said earlier. This can only be about sex.”
Such words have never bothered me until this very moment.
Maybe it’s that ego she keeps talking about, and I’d just like to believe she wants more from me.
Or maybe I have to concede Giovanni had a point after all.
I have feelings for this woman.
Still, this is what she’s offering, and I won’t say no. With my hand still cupped around her jaw, I lean in and kiss her hard.
I pull back, shifting my hand to cradle the side of her face. “Agreed. But while we’re doing this, you’re mine, Lucia. I don’t share. No sweet little dinner dates with Hudson or any men dressed in Santa suits.”
For a second, I think she’s going to bite me—or maybe bite my head off.
Instead, she nods. “The same goes for you. If Eileen tries to set you up with anyone, you have to say no.”
I snort, spearing my hand into her glorious curls. “I would have said no anyway.”
“And no hookups with tourists or anyone else,” she demands, scowling.
I make a sign over my chest. “Lobster Scout’s honor.”
“Is that really a thing here?” she asks, angling her head to study me, curiosity glinting in her eyes. “Someone else mentioned it to me.”
“Really a thing.” I grin, playing with one of her curls. “Everything in Hideaway Harbor has to be special and precious. No normal Boy Scouts for us.”
“Did you always feel this way?”
“About Hideaway Harbor?” I shrug. “It was a place I needed to escape for my life to begin.”
“And did it feel like your life began when you left?”
Her words wrench at something inside of me, carving into the bedrock of the stories I’ve told myself. The ones that have built me into the man I am.
Because, no, it still felt like something was missing. It has always felt like something was missing. First, my mother. Then, I felt like I could have my job but not my family, my family but not my freedom.
My hand drops from her hair.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. That’s obviously not a frenemies-with-benefits question. But for a man who’s so devoted to his family, you’re surprisingly anxious to leave them.”
The knife drives in deep, cutting through my armor and finding my heart. I rub a hand over my chest. “You know how to hit a man where it hurts, no question about that.”
“I was curious, that’s all. I just…home was always with my mom. Always. And after she died, all I could think about was finding a new home. And when I visited Charlie here, everyone was so kind to me. So welcoming.”
I have to smile at that. “WasIwelcoming?”
“There are exceptions to every rule,” she says with an answering smile. “I guess I was wondering…what’s home for you? Is it really in New York? Because I’ve been there a few times, and I mean, it’s great and everything, but it always smells like pee and hot garbage, and everyone looks like they’ve been sucking on lemons. Hideaway Harbor smells like cinnamon sticks all the time, and everyone’s always smiling. Maybe it’s not actually Hideaway Harbor you don’t like.”
I shake my head slowly. “Who needs a therapist when they have a Lucia to analyze them?”
