Page 30 of Alonzo

Vann smiles at me from the driver’s side when I open the door. He’s easy to look at. Very handsome. All those Vaughn men are. Short blond hair, little bit of facial scruff, a casual burnt-orange hoodie with the Sick Boyz logo on the front. Faded jeans with a few artfully placed tatters. Big brown work boots with round steel toes. Shiny, mirrored sunglasses and a smile so bright, his teeth could be snow.

Everything about Vann Vaughn screams ‘I snowboard in Vail.’

He offers me his hand. “Need some help up?”

I take it because there’s no way I can get inside this fucking truck in a pencil skirt without help.

His hand is warm and big. And he pulls me up in one smooth tug that actually doesn’t make me look like a fool. But I catch him smirking at my useless knee-high boots before I close the door and he revs the engine. “Where to, Tara?”

“Home. Where else?”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to grab something to eat.”

“Fucking Belinda.”

He chuckles as he pulls away from the curb. “Don’t worry. I’m not into you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t get offended now, Tare. I know Belinda is trying to hook us up. But I’m way too young to settle. I have to play the field. It’s practically the law when you’re born with my charming good looks. Besides, if I were going to settle, I’d probably settle with Belinda.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Oh, God.” Because he is delusional if he thinks Belinda is into him like that.

“But you are hungry, right? Because I only agreed to pick you up because I wanted someone to eat with.”

“Charming good looks, huh?”

“Or I can cook for you.”

“Where? That deathtrap family mansion you live in?”

“Hey, our house is fucking amazing. And it’s not as death-trappy as it was a few years ago. We came into a windfall of money and started fixing it up.”

“La-la-la-la!” I plug my ears. “I do not want to hear how you fell into a windfall of money. That’s TMI, Vann.”

See, this is my point. Big families filled with boys always come with secrets. However the Vaughn family fell into this fix-up money, it probably wasn’t legal. They are tattooed-up bad boys. This conclusion is a no-brainer.

“Anyway, it’s good enough for Belinda.”

She lives above their garage. And no, it’s not good enough for Belinda. That apartment—if you can call it an apartment—doesn’t even have heat. It’s got a hundred-year-old wood stove and a sketchy space heater. Belinda wears clothes to bed. One day last winter the heat went out in my apartment and I had to stay with her for two days and I froze my ass off. And we had to go down to the wood pile in the back of the house to get fuel every three hours. It was awful.

“How about Anna Ameci’s?”

“Huh?”

“You like Italian?”

“You’re really taking me out to dinner?”

“I never said I was paying.”

“Vann, take me home.”

“No. I’m hungry.”

“Go to dinner with Belinda.”

“She’s working.”