Page 12 of Being Hospitable

For two days I’d thought about the enigma of the man next door. Annoying, but helpful. Funny, and sexy. And talented. So very talented in so many ways. A smile pulled at my lips as I mentally cataloged everything he’d done and wondered what more he could do. And though I was damn near loathed to admit it—even to myself—hanging out with Emilio could be somewhat pleasant. When he wasn’t being overly cocky.

“Okay,” I said setting Yoda back on the floor. “Don’t throw any wild ragers while I’m next door.” He trotted off, jumped onto the couch and promptly curled up on his favorite blanket.

I grabbed the tin from the table and padded down the hall toward my front door, stopping to slide on a pair of flip flops. The ten-second walk to Emilio’s had my stomach in knots. Why in the hell was apologizing to him making me all nervous?

I rang the bell. No answer. His door had a thin sidelight and as I peered through I saw no movement. I rang the bell again. Figures. I’d finally come ov

er and he wasn’t even home. I couldn’t stop the laugh that started. What was it about him that made me blame him for everything? Taking a breath, I shook my head and got my giggles under control.

The deep roar of an engine stole my attention. Barreling down the street at a speed too fast for the narrow passageway, was a shiny deep black old school muscle car. The type I associated with guys who had way too much testosterone that I was sure had them overcompensating for other things. The metallic air intake thing protruding from the hood gleamed in the sunlight as the monstrous car closed in. The driver crawled to a stop and peered at me before breaking out into a large grin. I jumped when the garage of his unit rumbled to life and he eased the pristine vehicle into the driveway.

I hugged the tin container against my abdomen. However, I knew for a fact he was not overcompensating for a damn thing. My face heated at the thought. The silence of the engine followed by the slam of a door made me look in his direction.

“What can I do for ya, Ma?” He leaned lazily against the car and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Cocky smirk firmly in place on his heavenly lips.

That name. Damned if it wasn’t annoying and unexplainably arousing at the same time. The grin on his face got bigger.

“Took you longer than I expected to come back for another taste, but your crap-ass poker face is giving you away. Come on in, and I’ll hook you up.”

The wink at the end of the statement flamed indignation at him being so pompous and presumptuous. And right. Damn it all to hell.

Ignoring that fact, I lifted my chin and drew my brows together. Stretching to pull every inch I could out of my height I squared my shoulders and glared at him. “Slow your roll, buddy. I only came to make a peace offering, but not sure I will now.

He laughed. Outright laughed as he turned his back to me and headed into the house with me fast on his heels.

“Only you would renege on a peace offering. So, what, pray tell, am I not getting?” He called out over his shoulder.

Emilio waited patiently for me to cross his threshold before he shut the door. He dropped his keys and wallet on a small side table and continued down the hall as if me being there and annoyed by him was an everyday occurrence. Into the kitchen and straight to the fridge. He pulled out two beers, popped the tops off both and handed me one. I didn’t miss the smile on his face as he tipped his to his lips.

I set the tin on the counter and gave it a push so it slid towards him. “Cookies.”

His eyes widened and I took a drink of the beer to cover the laugh threatening to escape. He put his down and picked up the offering.

“You...baked me cookies?” He opened the lid and inhaled before pulling one free. The sweet treat was suspended mid-air in front of his mouth. “Wait, did you poison these?”

I took another pull from my bottle and kept my gaze leveled at him. “You really believe me capable of that?”

“Without a doubt,” he replied, then took a giant bite.

The drink I’d just taken ungraciously sputtered past my lips and dribbled down my chin as I choked on a laugh.

He finished his cookie and licked his lips while handing me a paper towel. “You good?”

I nodded and cleaned my face. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” He nabbed another cookie from the tin.

I focused on the treat then looked up at him. “Eat something you thought was poisoned?”

He grabbed the tin and his beer and headed toward his living room. “Eh, there are worse ways to go, Ma. Besides, it’s bad manners to turn your nose up at a gift.”

Emilio settled his long limbs on his couch, put down the tin, picked up the remote, then patted the space next to him. Silently I complied with his unspoken request.

“I’m waiting,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the TV.

“Waiting for what?”

He turned to look at me and gave me a total body once over before his attention settled back on my face. “The apology that goes along with those delicious cookies.”

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