Page 93 of Highball and Chain

Marco waved to Nicolina. “Grab a beer and join me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have wine.”

“You know where to find it.” Enzo spoke without sparing a glance in her direction. In fact, he hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d walked outside. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Still holding him, I rose to tiptoe and kissed his jaw.

Nuzzling his stubbly cheek against mine, he whispered, “For being kind when I couldn’t be.”

I doubted any poet who’d ever penned a stanza could have made me feel as warm and fuzzy as he had in that moment. “Don’t sell yourself short, Marchionni.”

Brushing his lips across mine, he whispered, “Come inside with me. I need you…”

Hearing him utter those words, in his bedroom voice, sent my already soaring heart into the stratosphere. I would have gone anywhere with him.

“…but first, I have to check on the potatoes.” He flashed me a naughty smile.

And that folks, is how poetry died. I laughed and followed him into the kitchen.

Enzo opened the microwave.

“I can’t believe a bona fide chef cooks potatoes in the microwave.”

“Only when in a hurry.” He chuckled. “Would you carry the caprese salad and steaks to the patio table?”

“Sure.” I rested the platter in the crook of my elbow, the steaks in my left hand, and grabbed an olive plate with my right.

Enzo met me outside with the rest of the food. “I’m definitely putting you to work when the restaurant reopens. I have veteran waitresses who can’t manage multiple items as well as you just did.”

“I’ve waited tables before.” I grinned and glanced over the spread. The food looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine, not an impromptu cookout.

“So have I.”

I arched a brow. “A Marchionni waiting tables? Are you serious?”

“Pops made all of us work in his supper club growing up. Everyone except Dante. He was too young.” He called over to Marco. “I hope you don’t expect me to serve you because you have a little boo-boo.”

“I’m coming.” Marco stood and the color drained from his face. The guy was in real pain.

I shook my head at the brothers. “Sit down. I’ll bring you a plate.”

Marco smirked. “At least someone in this house is nice to me.”

Nico whispered something to him. He replied with a wink.

That’s interesting.I glanced back at Enzo to get his take on their interaction, but he was busy filling two plates.

I carried the food to Marco and Nicolina. “Do you need anything else?”

“Ma always kisses my cheek when she serves me dinner.” He wiggled his brows.

“I’m not your mom, but what the hell.” I puckered up and smooched his forehead.

“Keep your hands off my woman,” Enzo said.

“No hands were involved. Besides, she kissed me.” Marco stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth.

“Because you asked.” Enzo deadpanned.

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