Loving You (27 page)

“Ah, Nicky,” Angela said, and reached over to slap the back of her son's head on principle. “Is good that you brought him to his family. Finally.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Nick said, reaching up to rub the throbbing knot on the back of his skull.

“What's the matter with you?” she demanded suddenly, turning and fixing him with a glare that had been known to turn her children to stone. “Why do you keep him a secret? You're ashamed?”

“No,”
he said, and shifted farther down the picnic bench. Out of reach. “Mama, I didn't even know about Jonas myself until a couple of weeks ago.”

Her lips flattened into one grim line that made him want to get up and run. God, what was it about parents, he wondered, that they could still hold such power over you even when you were grown?

She clucked her tongue at him and Nick cringed. He'd rather have her shouting and taking a swing at him than have her staring at him in disappointment. He'd seen that particular look too often in his life.

“It's … complicated, Mama,” he said.

“Not so complicated you couldn't tell Jackson. And Paul. You should have told me.”

“I would have.”

“When?”

“When everything's settled, Mama,” he said, and
glanced around the yard, desperately hoping that one of his brothers would stroll up and rescue him. No such luck. He was on his own.

“What's to settle? Look at him. So much like you.”

Nick sighed. “Mama, it's not that easy.”

“I know, I know.” She threw her hands high, then let them land in her lap again. “You already told me. His foster mother is gone somewhere and … Tasha? Yes, Tasha doesn't want Jonas upset. She's a smart girl. No one wants him upset. We just want him to know his family.”

Nick's gaze drifted across Mama's backyard. She'd had her picnic, winter or no winter. Even the weather couldn't stop her when Angela Candellano had her mind set on something. Smoke from the barbecue twisted like gray silk in the wind off the ocean. Paul, Tony, and Jackson slapped at it with spatulas and laughed over beers.
Chimineas
, outside fireplaces, bristled with red-hot embers at either side of the yard, sending streams of warm air sliding across the grass. Stevie, Carla, and Beth were huddled around one of them, laughing and talking together while the kids sat apart, eating. Reese, Tina, and even Debbie seemed enthralled with Jonas, and to give the boy his due, Jonas fit right in with everyone.

The kid had been excited at the idea of ending his shopping trip for Tasha's birthday with lunch at Mama Candellano's.

Tasha
.

Nick wished she was there. With the family. Laughing with Carla, Stevie, and Beth. Playing with the kids. Teasing his brothers. Talking to Mama.

Smiling at him.

Nick scowled to himself. He'd never wanted to
bring a woman home to Mama's before. Hell, in his family, inviting a woman to dinner was tantamount to getting engaged. His mother would be buying a dress and calling the priest.

Everything in him went on red alert and he practically leaped off the bench. “We've gotta go, Mama.”

“So soon?” she said, and stood up, already walking toward Jonas for the ritual hug and long Italian goodbye. Italians didn't just wave and leave. There were traditions to be upheld. If you wanted to leave at three o'clock, you had to start saying good-bye at two-thirty.

There were kisses and hugs and plates of food to prepare so you wouldn't starve on your drive home from a seven-course meal. There were stories to be told, promises for the next visit made, and memories of past visits to share.

Since he was used to it, Nick took his time, strolling toward Paul and Tony. Mama would be busy for a while, fussing over Jonas and the other kids.

“He lives!” Tony said as he approached and lifted a beer bottle in salute.

“It was close,” Nick admitted, lifting a hand to touch the sore spot on his head.

“Hey, no obvious bruising, I call that a win,” Paul told him with a laugh.

“Sympathy from the family. It's so touching.”

“You want sympathy?” Tony said, chuckling. “You're in the wrong family.”

Nick grabbed Tony's beer and took a long drink. “Duh. Christ. The KGB should know about Mama.”

“She's too tough for those guys,” Tony said, taking his beer back.

“Amen,” Paul muttered, clearly delighted that Mama was mad at his twin this time, not him.

“So,” Jackson asked, “have you decided what to do yet?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, looking at his brother-in-law. “I think it's time to do what you wanted to do in the first place.” It was past time, he thought, half-turning to look at Jonas, being enveloped in a Mama Candellano hug. The boy's arms wrapped around her thick waist as she bent her head to kiss the top of his head.

If Jonas was his son, he wanted the boy to know his family. If he
wasn't
his son …

“Good enough,” Jackson said. “I'll call the kid's lawyer. Set up the test.”

“The kid has a lawyer?” Paul asked.

Nick sighed and waved at Jackson. “You explain. I'm tired.”

Tony laughed and slapped him on the back.

“Tasha!” Jonas shouted. “You came!”

Everything went eerily silent.

Nick did a slow, careful turn as the hairs at the back of his neck stood straight up. When he met her gaze, Nick gave silent thanks that looks really couldn't kill.

C
HAPTER
16

Tasha couldn't breathe.

A cold, tight band wrapped around her heart and squeezed until she nearly winced from the pain. The icy wind slicing in off the ocean pushed at her with cold hands as if trying to keep her away from the tender family scene in front of her.

Jonas.

Her
Jonas—surrounded by Nick's relatives.

Even as she stood there, watching, Jonas was being sucked deeper into the Candellano clan and being wedged further away from her. Pain, sharp and bright, tore at her and she blinked to keep sudden tears at bay. God, how could she hurt this much and still stand?

Still breathe?

When Jonas had called to tell her where he was, all she could think to do was drive to Chandler and claim him. To take him back home. To
their
home. And then she was planning on locking the doors. Maybe sealing the windows. Keeping the whole world—and especially Nick Candellano—
out
.

No more Ms. Nice Guy.

No more stolen kisses or dreams and visions of what might have been.

Just reality.

And the reality was that she had to keep Nick away at all costs.

Okay, a small, rational voice in her mind insisted, maybe she was overreacting just a shade. But not by much. Nick had moved in, shifted their nice little world into outer space, and then, without even telling her, dropped Jonas into the middle of an all-American family situation.

How could she possibly compete with that?

She stared at the frozen tableau in the backyard. It was as if they were all statues, frozen by Tasha's unexpected appearance. Then all at once, like a heart suddenly beginning to beat, everyone came to life at once. A golden retriever barked. Voices lifted. Jonas broke free of the older woman's hug and started toward Tasha.

Nick was headed her way, too.

Her stomach pitched.

If he'd had any sense, he'd have been moving in the opposite direction. Instead, he was coming right at her. Tasha pulled in a deep, cleansing breath and clung tightly to the hard ball of anger settled in her chest.

The big golden dog raced alongside Jonas as if there were a game in progress. She weaved back and forth in front of the boy as if she were trying to herd him, but Jonas kept coming, laughing out loud at the dog's antics.

Tasha's heart ached a little harder.

He was so at home here.

Nick's long legs allowed him to reach her first, but she didn't look at him. If she looked at him, she'd have to talk, and she was terrified that she'd start shouting instead.

“Tasha,” Nick said, refusing to be ignored, “I can explain.”

“I'm not interested.” Good. No shouts. No curses. Short and simple. She looked past him at the boy and dog hurrying toward her. “Come on, Jonas, we have to go.”

“Not yet,” the boy said as he raced up and slid to a stop just in front of her. While he talked, he kept one hand stroking the dog's head, and the big animal's whole body quivered in delight at the attention.

He should have a dog of his own, Tasha thought.

“Nana's gonna give me some more of her cookies,” Jonas said. “She makes great cookies.”

Nana
.

Oh God.

Tasha reached out and smoothed his hair back. She should have cut it, she told herself. All of these people. They'd think he didn't have anyone taking care of him. They'd think
she
didn't care. And oh Lord, she cared so much.

“Is it okay, Tasha?” Jonas practically bounced in place. “Can I go get the cookies?”

Everyone was watching her. She felt their gazes on her. If she grabbed him and ran, they'd all think she was nuts. A nut who didn't care enough to give Jonas a haircut. Well, she wouldn't give them any more ammunition to use against her.

“Fine.” She forced a smile that felt as though it would crack her face. “Go ahead, honey. Get the cookies. I'll wait out front for you.”

“'Kay!” He was already turning and running back into the yard.

The big dog barked once as if saying hello. Everyone else started moving again. The older woman—
Nana—headed toward Tasha, a welcoming smile on her face.

But Tasha couldn't take much more. She was in no mood to make small talk and she didn't want to see any more of the big family gathering. Turning her back, she started for the front of the house, to where she'd left the van parked. She'd just sit in her VW van, roll up the windows, lock the doors, and wait for Jonas.

She didn't get two steps before Nick was beside her, taking her upper arm in a firm grip and holding on.

She yanked free and shot him a vicious glare. “Don't touch me.”

“I know you're pissed off, but—”

She kept walking. Couldn't talk. Words gathered at the back of her throat, burning to be released. But she wouldn't say anything here. Wouldn't do the shouting that she so wanted to do. Because there were like a hundred Candellanos here and she was alone. Like always.

As she stalked toward the front of the house, she managed to nearly snarl, “And by the way, you don't know
anything
about me. Nothing.”

“Whoa.” He kept pace with her, his long strides easily matching her anger-fueled steps. “Take it easy, Tasha.”

“Take it easy?” She whipped her hair back from her face and tore at it with impatient fingers when the wind kicked it back across her eyes. “You can say that to me?” She stopped, furious, and glared at him. “You take Jonas off for a day with your family and you don't even
tell
me?”

“Jesus. I didn't take him to South America.”

She stomped off again. “That's not the point and you know it.”

“You're right. I should have told you. But I figured you'd take it wrong. Clearly,” he added wryly, “I was wrong.”

Curling her fingers into a fist, she clenched it at her side and kept moving so she couldn't give in to the urge to punch that smiling face of his. One step, two, three. She turned on him again and he stopped short to avoid crashing into her. “Damn it, you had no right.”

“It was a burger, Tasha, not a kidnapping.”

“Oh, it's so much more than that,” she muttered, and whirled around again, unable to look into those brown eyes any longer. Her steps pounded against the grass. “This wasn't lunch,” she said, not caring if he could hear her or not. “This was bringing Jonas into your family. And you pulled out all the stops, didn't you? Introducing him to aunts and uncles and cousins and even a
Nana
for God's sake.”

“Well, hell, somebody shoot me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh, don't tempt me,” she shot back. Fear chewed at her stomach. She held one hand to it in an attempt to ease the churning there. It didn't help. She kept walking, around the corner of the old house and into the teeth of the wind.

It slapped at her, stinging her cheeks, making her eyes water. The cold went bone deep. She shivered and felt as though she might never be warm again. Fear ran with her, pacing her steps, measuring her breaths. She was losing Jonas. Inch by inch, he was slipping away from her.

“Damn it, Tasha, stop.” Nick grabbed her again and this time, when she tried to yank free, he didn't let her go.

“You stop, Nick.” She congratulated herself silently
on keeping from screaming. “I don't want to talk about this.”

“Too damn bad.”

She gave him a look that should have warned him off. “Don't push me right now, football star.”

“Okay,” he muttered, tightening his grip on her arm, “that's it.” He steered her away from the car and out onto the road in front of the house.

“Hey—” Tasha dug in her heels, but her old tennies slid on the damp grass. She had to walk. It was either that or fall on her ass and be dragged across the lawn.

“We're going for a walk.” Nick kept moving, not even looking at her as he towed her along in his wake.

“Jonas will be waiting—”

“My mother's feeding him. Trust me, it'll be a while.”

“Let
go
.” She pulled hard, and he released her, but stepped in front of her when she tried to go back to the car.

“Move.”

“Not a chance.” He met her gaze and stared her down. “We're talking. Now. We can do it in front of Jonas and my family, or we can take a walk.”

Tasha inhaled sharply, deeply, and shot a quick look at the big old house sitting surrounded by trees and permanence … and history … and, hell. Everything she didn't have. Everything she could never give Jonas.