Page 132 of Born for Starlight

“Let’s go out. I haven’t been here for awhile. Let’s go visit Little Grandma.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re giving up sex to visit a hundred-and-two-year-old woman?”

“She’s probably mad at me for being gone for so long, so if I show up with you, then I might worm myself back into her good graces.”

I squinted at the big man sitting across from me at my kitchen table. Something was up. Something was definitely up. I didn’t know what, but I could tell. Again, he’d passed up on morning sex.

“Okay. I’ll change.”

He grinned.

Damn. He had a sexy smile. For that smile, I’d put up with a lot of shenanigans. I set down my mug of coffee and went to the bedroom. I took my time getting ready. If he was up to something, the least I could do was torture him.

I found just the right dress. It was blue cotton paisley that was off the shoulder. Tight at the waist, with a wide skirt. Perfect for the weather. I bothered with some mascara and lip gloss, and brushed my hair until it shined, then pinned it up. I found the necklace that Grandma Maureen had given me when I was sixteen and clasped it on.

I walked out into the living room, and Matthew turned around.

“Fuck me.”

“I think you took a pass on that.”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he accused.

“It doesn’t work with this dress.”

“People at the diner are going to notice.”

“They’re just going to notice I’m wearing a cute dress. Just guys like you will notice I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Your brothers will notice.”

“Why would my brothers be there?”

He picked up my purse off the coffee table and handed it to me. “They won’t be. I’m just saying if they were there, they would notice. Come on. I want a cinnamon roll.”

Matthew didn’t park close, he parked two blocks away, which I guess was fine. It was a pretty day. But the man was up to something.

The closer we got to the diner, the tenser he got.

“Are you sure you were a secret agent?”

“Huh?”

I tugged at his hand as we crossed the street. “A secret agent? You’re not very good at it.”

“What are you talking about?” He frowned down at me. He was not amused. “I’m special operations. James Bond is a secret agent. I’m muscle.”

I giggled and gripped his bicep. “You sure are.”

“Cut the shit, Angelica. Cinnamon roll, remember?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you see all the cars on the street?”

I looked around, then squinted. “Wait a minute. I recognize those cars.” I pulled at his hand to slow him down, but he didn’t slow. “I recognize that SUV. That’s Jase’s.”

I tried to get him to stop. “That’s Bruno’s.”