Ready for You (25 page)

Stretching, she finished some filing before straightening the tray and pen holder on the front of her desk. At least that could be orderly. The front door opened behind her. Rocco’s scent, his heat, moved toward her. She tensed and glanced back to be sure it was him. His angry frown made her face the desk again. The door shut and the lock clicked.

“Why won’t you answer my calls?” he said.

“I have nothing to say.”

He stood behind her. His pull on her set her on slow burn. “Dammit Chiara,” he growled. Grabbing her arms, he turned her to him and kissed her, fierce yet tender. When he stopped and studied her, she pulled away and faced the desk again. She had to stay numb. But his closeness made that impossible, at least physically. She leaned back slightly and twitched her dress up.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“It hurts,” she said, pressing herself into him. She reached back and undid his pants. “Make it better.” He didn’t move. The ache in her throbbed until tears stung her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek as he eased his hands onto her breasts, squeezing while he kissed her neck. She bent over the desk and moved her panties down.

“Uh,” she grunted when he rammed into her. Every bit of her tingled, his forcefulness reawakening her feelings. Their breath panted and the desk rattled as she steadied herself against it. She dropped her torso and tilted her backside up. When he smacked her ass, she cried out a low moan of sheer delight. “Been naughty,” she said, hoping. He let loose a deep mm before he spanked her again. Ripples became a tidal wave which instead of destroying restored her. Rocco crashed too and pulled her up to him.

After fixing their clothes, she leaned on his chest. All her feelings swirled in her, muddied and confused. He’d taken away the ache, but now she hurt in a different place.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too. Come home with me.”

“Yes. But only for awhile.”

He lifted her face to his. “For always,” he said.

Her stomach jumped and dipped like on a roller coaster. He only wanted her to move in. “I can’t. I can stay until the weekend. Then I have the boys.”

“There’s room at my house. They like the front guest room, Sabrina told me.”

“Danny won’t anymore. He didn’t realize it was your house. I can’t. Please stop asking.”

“For now,” he said. “How about I take you out to dinner?”

“I’d rather make something,” she said.
Quicker access to the Buffone specials that way.

“Better stop at the store, then,” he said as she gathered her things and turned the phone to night answering.

They walked the aisles of Franco’s market, holding hands, talking about their favorite foods. Chiara squeezed his hand when they passed old Mrs. Nance, who lived on her parents’ street and attended her church. Mrs. Nance clucked disapprovingly when she shuffled past them.

“Someone you know?” Rocco asked.

“A neighbor.
I guess my mom’s been talking.”

“Who cares?” he said as he placed a head of lettuce in the basket.

“I do,” she whispered.

He breathed out, sounding exasperated. She tensed, holding back the urge to shout or slap him. They finished shopping in silence and drove to Isabella’s.

Chiara packed a couple bags while Rocco and Isabella talked in the living room.

“Mom
call
you?” Isabella asked when Chiara walked into the room.

“No, why?”

“Oh, we’re going to Bobbie’s family’s cabin near Tahoe for Thanksgiving. Usually, I wouldn’t want to go, but since I’m single…well, you know how I feel about ski instructors.” Isabella smiled.

Chiara rolled her eyes. “The boys will be in San Diego with Phil. But I don’t think--”

“Come
on,
don’t leave me alone with that bunch.”

“Sounds like you won’t be alone.”

“You should come to my
family’s
,” Rocco said.

Isabella’s phone rang. She answered and soon frowned. “Okay, well, a little late, Mom. Yeah. Bye.”

“What’s up?” Chiara asked.

“Maybe you should go to the Buffones’. It’ll be more fun.”

Chiara’s stomach clenched. “They don’t want me to come.”

“Dad and Santo…you know how they are. It’ll blow over soon, you’ll see.”

“I don’t care. Enjoy your week. Sure it’s okay for the boys to be here this weekend?”

“Yeah, why don’t we do something fun since they’ll be leaving the weekend after?”

Chiara nodded. It would be the boys’ first holiday away from her. She bit her lip and reached for her bags, but Rocco picked them up. They said goodbye to Isabella and went out to his truck.

“Why do you put up with them treating you like that?” Rocco said as he drove away.

“They’re my family,” she said. She leaned back into the seat.

“What about that Kitty? She’s not.”

“They…I owe them, in a way. They paid my school loans and some credit card debt I had.”

“Thought they could buy you, huh?”

Chiara tensed, goose bumps lined her arms. “It wasn’t like that.”

“They still
paying?”

“Not that it’s your business, but no. I handle most of the bills, or I did. I’ve been careful.” She glanced at him. His twisted grimace made her neck hurt. “I don’t need you to lecture me about money.”

“Who’s lecturing?” he said.

“I can tell you want to.”

“No wonder you have no problems, you’re a fuckin’ mind reader,” he said.

“And you’re an asshole.”

“That’s quite a combo,” he said. He grinned wickedly at her as he parked in his driveway.

“We’ve got four nights,” she said. She returned his smile.

“Four nights…not near enough.”

“It’ll have to do,” she said.

“For now,” he said before he hopped from the truck and led her inside.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Water gurgled into the kitchen sink. He should check the pipes. Chiara stood washing dishes from their dinner of pizza from Gemingelli’s. Even that caused a disagreement: Chiara wanted the Genoa, a spinach, pesto, and artichoke heart pizza while Rocco liked the sausage, mushroom, and black olive traditional style. They’d had their four nights together last week, and four more this week, with a lot of persuasion on his part. She wore him out, but not in the bedroom. No complaints there. Loving him seemed to be an inconvenience to her and she resisted every attempt to talk about the future or their relationship.

Leaning back on the couch, he sighed. He finally had what he thought he’d wanted all these years: a hot woman who wanted sex, a lot of it, and little else. So many times women tried to leave a toothbrush, deodorant, a change of clothes, or some other personal item at his place and that would be the end of anything with them. He used to laugh with other guys about it and now he was the joke.

“Sitting in the dark?” Chiara said, standing in the kitchen doorway. The backlighting silhouetted her curves.

“Thinking,” he said. He closed his eyes. When he looked at her too much, he got foolish.

“I know you want me to stay for Thanksgiving, but I’m going to Grandma’s…”

“Figured,” he said. “What else?” He’d heard the hesitation at the end of her statement, as if she had more to say she knew he wouldn’t like.

“I talked to your mom today. She’s letting me take December off.”

Rocco sat up and stared at her. Her eyes darted and she clasped her hands.

“You just started two months ago,” he said.

“I know, but I need time…Grandma said I could stay with her. I only get to see the boys on weekends anyway. I can drive down from the city. I’ve always liked it there. Maybe--”

“You’re moving to San Francisco?” He stood and paced, his arms emphasizing his words. “You’d rather move there than here?
Unbelievable.
This is what I get. Hell.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” she said, doing the same thing.

“Why not?” he shouted.
Talking softly didn’t work.

She blew out a breath. He wouldn’t look at her. How could she claim to love him and do this? She must have lied. It made no sense.

“I need to figure out how I want the rest of my life to be. Jumping from Phil to you--”

“I’m just the rebound, right? Hey, I know all about that.” Payback really was a bitch. And her name was Chiara. “You were right. We got caught up in the excitement but obviously it’s not working. It’s been fun,” he said. He walked down the hall.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He waved his hand without turning around. She must have known all week, at least. No wonder she never left anything and insisted on having her car here.
All for the best now.
He shut the door to his room and leaned against it. After a few minutes, he banged his head on the wood surface. His chest gripped. She was gone. He was alone.

Opening the door, he walked back into the living room. Chiara’s scent still lingered, part orange grove, part sex room. He scooped his keys and wallet from the phone table between the kitchen and dining room doorways. A few beers maybe but scotch would be better. As he put his wallet in his pocket, he looked at the wall. Sabrina and Shawn’s faces beamed at him from a photo taken last Christmas. He’d promised them no more drinking. Whatever kind of crap ass failure he was, he would do right by them. He tossed the keys and wallet back and stretched. His shoulder twinged. No sledge hammering this time.

He paced for a bit, like a caged gorilla. Some chest beating wouldn’t be far off. He hadn’t spoken to Shawn in awhile. But it was Friday night and he didn’t want to interrupt anything. Then again, Shawn wouldn’t answer if he had something going on. He called.

“Dad, hey,” Shawn said after Rocco said hello and asked how he was.
“Didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Why not?
We haven’t talked for a couple weeks.
Your mom and John still coming down there for Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah.
His son and daughter both live down here too, so it’s easier. We’ll see you for Christmas, though, right?”

“That’ll be good.” Rocco jingled his keys.

“Everything okay?
Last I heard from Sabrina…isn’t Chiara there?”

“She was. Not anymore. Where’d she hear that?”

“Grandma or Aunt Faith I’d guess. Chiara have her boys for Thanksgiving?”

“No, she’s going to her Grandma’s in San Francisco.
Maybe for good.”

Shawn didn’t say anything for a few moments. Rocco swallowed and trudged to the couch.

“You know, maybe I’d rather come up there for the holiday--”

“Don’t do that,” Rocco said. “I’m not gonna screw up again, not in a big way.” They both chuckled. “You and your sister spent enough time worrying about me. I’m the Dad, that’s my job. Now, tell me how things are there.”

Shawn told him, about his classes, new friends, and his and Sabrina’s plan to drive up next month. Only a month and they’d both be here. They hung up and Rocco put down the phone. He didn’t need Chiara. He’d always gotten enough love from his family and plenty of women for his other needs. All this stuff with her was some mid-life crisis. Better she was gone, now he could get back to the way his life used to be. It had been a satisfying life and it would be again.

Over the next week, though, he only went to work before coming home each night.
Except for the one AA meeting.
Wasn’t as irritating as he remembered.
Then he worked on his home projects and collapsed into bed. He’d gotten the yard into good shape the last weekend, and installed a new tub in his bathroom. Of course, he’d ordered the larger whirlpool tub hoping Chiara would be in it with him, but there would be other women.

Thanksgiving had been okay, a nice day with his family: his parents, Ray and his family, Faith, Brad, Ava, Brad’s parents, and a few family friends who didn’t have family nearby. Uncle Rob had spent the day with Leonora and her family.

As he sat watching TV the day after, his mind kept wandering to that scene. He’d heard Chiara’s uncle and grandma had a large extended family up there. He should stop thinking about her. She probably hadn’t given him a second thought.

When his phone rang some time later, he practically pounced on it. He should get out more. It was his uncle Rob, an unusual occurrence. They talked briefly about the holiday before a silence buzzed.

“Something going on,” Rocco asked after a minute. Uncle Rob would never call without a purpose.

“I tell you, come up here and get Chiara,” Uncle Rob commanded.

“Excuse me?”

“I need to explain?”

“She chose to go--” Rocco began.

“I’m all for the Buffone pride, but unless you want to lose your woman--”

“She was never mine.”

“Could have fooled the rest of us.
Yesterday, all the families gathered.
Lots of twenty-somethings.
I’ve met them all now and they’re good people. But there’s this one, I know his type, the family playboy, reminds me of me…Gianni DeGrazia, he was getting mighty cozy with Chiara. Max doesn’t like it. And neither should you.”

Rocco gripped the phone in an effort to keep from hurling it across the room. “If she wants to be with someone else, she’s free. So am I. I don’t plan on sitting around here by myself.”

“Don’t be a fool. A woman like her--”

“What, is she cramping your style with Leonora?
Must be crowded there, the three of you.”

“Bull-headed just like your dad.”

“He always said I took after you,” Rocco said.

“Listen, Chiara’s making new friends already--”

“Good for her. I was on my way out. Have a good weekend,” Rocco said before hanging up.

Now he did throw the phone. He ran his hands over his head. A bar was the best pick up spot, but he couldn’t risk it. He had some numbers of women, several months old now, but worth a try. He called every one, even delved into his old numbers, but none were available and a few hung up on him. Six months of his life wasted. He’d have to start over, back to finding the women and building his reputation with the ones who could be counted on for a good time, commitment free. It got more difficult at his age, unless he wanted to date much younger women. Most women closer to his age wanted stability, a relationship. Though there were those few, divorcees or singles, who just wanted sex. The trouble was finding them.

Apparently, finding women wasn’t the problem. He was.
Him and his stupid preoccupation with Chiara.
He went out Saturday night, even made out with some blond by her car in the parking garage near the bar. She invited him home, but he couldn’t make himself go. He was going to follow her to her place, but his mind wandered to Chiara and he drove home without even realizing what he was doing.

As he walked into his dark house, the phone rang. It was almost midnight, the last time anyone called his home phone this late was a year ago when Ray phoned to tell him about his dad’s heart attack. He fumbled the phone and answered.

“Rocco?”
It was Chiara. A grin pushed out before he forced it away.

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice.

“Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

What the hell, was she calling to chit-chat?

“Sure, you?”
Not that he needed to ask. He clenched his jaw and paced.

“Fine, everyone’s been really nice.” She sounded far away.

“It’s late. I was just going to bed.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize…I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Oh, that Gianni keeping her up? He clenched his hands. Dammit.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

“Yeah.
Is there a reason you called?” he snapped.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“I didn’t think you heard me,” she said.

He heard everything she ever said to him. “Why are you sorry?”

“For fighting with you.”
Her voice was so soft and quiet, soothing. He shook his head. Unless she said she was coming back, he wouldn’t cave in. He waited, the quiet making him tap his fingers just for the sound.

“I guess I should let you go,” she said.

“Nothing else to say?”
He had to give her one more chance.

“Nothing you’ll want to hear.” Now her tone had an edge.

“Try me,” he said. If only she would.

“Can you…I mean, can we not see other people?”

“Meaning?”
He stood still and smiled.

“I don’t know.
Never mind.”

His ears pounded and his smile faded. “If you mean you want to keep me on a leash while you’re off screwing around, forget it. You want me to keep you on my list, fine, but don’t expect me to sit at home alone.”

“What about the things we said…did you mean any of it?” she said in a strained tone.

“Did you? Doesn’t seem like it. Like you said, people say things in the heat of the moment.
The excitement of the chase.
Sometimes the catch isn’t what you thought it would be so you throw it back.”

“Right. ‘
Bye,” she said.

He slammed the phone on the hook then put his hand over it. She’d said she didn’t want to see other people. But she didn’t say she was moving back. He loved her, but he wasn’t going to play games or let her stomp all over him. Self respect kept him from that. Then again, pride wasn’t much fun in bed. And it didn’t tell you it loved you. Maybe she was confused. He sure had been during his divorce. He felt like he ran around the ball field, always reaching the same end every time, never going anywhere, just getting winded.