The Inheritance (The Donatelli Series) (3 page)

Before he could grant his grandfather’s dying wish, he had to find himself a wife.

Chapter Two

B
lade had just changed the oil in his Harley when a white cat came racing across the driveway, followed by a shaggy little dog. The cat sailed over the top of the bike, but the dog missed. She knocked the bike over and her front legs landed in the pan of used oil. The pan flipped up and dumped all over the front of the dog. Oil ran down the driveway and soaked into the asphalt, and the front half of the gray and white dog had turned black.

“Get that mutt out of here,” he yelled at two little boys.

The older one burst into tears and the little one’s bottom lip stuck out.

“Mommy just gave her a bath.” the older one said, tears streaming down his face.

Blade already had oil on his clothes, and he never could stand to see kids cry, so he scooped up the little dog and carried her to the sink in the back of the garage.

What did people use to wash dogs? “Hey you,” he said to the older boy. “Go into the kitchen and get the dishwashing soap from under the sink.”

“Mommy uses shampoo,” said the little one.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think shampoo will cut the oil.” Blade rinsed the spider webs out of the sink, ran some warm water, and lowered the dog into the water. The older kid handed him the soap, which Blade squirted all over the dog. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Andy,” said the bigger kid, “and this is Jimmy. Is Daisy gonna be okay?”

“Sure, no problem.”
Wrong.
He’d used too much soap. The more water he splashed on the dog, the thicker the suds grew, and the dirty oil turned it black until it resembled slimy mud. The little dog got more slippery by the second. Daisy had turned into a swamp creature.

“Hey, Andy, look in the kitchen for a plastic glass or bowl or something I can use to rinse her. Jimmy, go in the bathroom and bring me a couple towels.”

“Mommy said we shouldn’t go in anyone’s house without asking her.”

“This is an emergency.” Mommy would probably kill him when she learned he’d undone that lesson. He pictured some screeching matron coming at him with a rolling pin.

Both boys ran into the house. Cute kids, if you liked kids.

He lifted the front of the dog to scrub the chest and tummy and front legs, which had gotten the most oil, and then he lowered her into the water again. The fluffy little pooch looked skinny and pathetic with her fur matted down with black slime. She shook, sending black soapy water and oily bubbles all over him. “Hey, hold still.”

“What are you doing to my dog?” He couldn’t see the woman, but her voice sounded angry.

“Trying to wash the oil off. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Trying to drown her.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the most stunning women he’d ever set eyes on. She had short, dark brown hair that waved back from her face and dark, flashing eyes. A long-sleeved, red T-shirt outlined magnificent breasts, and tight jeans hugged her lower body. This was Mommy? No mother he’d ever known looked like that.

“I could use some help here, lady. This is one slippery pooch.”

She stepped up beside him, took one look at the dog, and asked, “What did you use on her?”

“Dishwashing soap. It spilled.” She didn’t have to know that he’d used almost half the bottle.

Andy handed him a plastic bowl and Blade used one hand to scoop the already black water over the dog’s back. The kid’s eyes had grown and he kept shooting fearful looks at the woman. Yep, this was definitely Mommy.

The little one came through the door with two of Blade’s best towels. “Uh-oh,” he muttered, tossing the towels at Blade.

“We’re busted,” said Andy.

“You sure are,” the woman said. She pushed her sleeves up and moved closer, and Blade’s thoughts weren’t on Daisy or the towels by his feet. They were on Mommy. She looked and smelled clean, and he was covered in motor oil and sweat. He smelled worse than the dog.

Daisy burst out of the tub in an escape attempt. Blade snagged her out of mid-air, getting his shirt soaked in the process. “Hey, you’re still wearing my soap, and I have a sink full of dirty dishes in there.”

“Do you want us to bring the dirty dishes out here?” asked Andy.

Blade burst out laughing. “I don’t think so, kid.”

The woman took charge of the dog. She tossed a towel over her shoulder and reached in the tub. “It’s all right, Daisy. She’s shaking. You scared her.”

“She should be scared. She knocked over my bike and spilled oil all over the damn driveway.”

“Don’t swear around my kids.”

Blade looked down into two sets of trusting brown eyes. “Sorry, guys.”

“Grandma makes us put a quarter in the jar when we say a bad word,” said Jimmy.

“Tell Grandma I’ll be down with my money after I get cleaned up. Okay?”

“Okay,” the two kids said in unison, and Jimmy promptly disappeared.

Still holding the dog down, Blade turned to the woman. “Where do you live?”

She didn’t answer.

“At the end of the street,” said Andy.

It took halfway to forever to get the oil and soap out of that little dog. They changed the water three times. By the time he and the woman finished, they were on a first-name basis, the kids had gone home, and the dog shivered.
Poor Daisy.
One bath was bad enough, but two in one day had to be downright insulting.

Maria wrapped the dog in a towel and sopped up some of the water. Blade wrapped the dry towel around the dog and took her from Maria. “Come on, Daisy. Let’s go find the hair dryer.”

“I can take her home and—”

“No problem.”

“She doesn’t like—”

“Tough. I’m not sending her home wet.”

Blade set the dog on the bathroom countertop and turned on the hair dryer. Maria stood in the bathroom door, watching. “One more bath today and she’ll turn as white as the cat down the street.”

“That white cat got her into this mess.” Blade shook his finger at the dog. “No more chasing cats.” She put her paws on his chest and slurped his face. He wiped his face on the damp towel. “Dog kisses. Not my favorite kind.” Blade glanced at Maria. “Now if you want to—”

“I don’t kiss any men who aren’t named Donatelli.”

Someone tapped on the door and Maria went to answer. Blade followed her with a clean, nearly dry dog. A boy bigger than the first two and wearing glasses stood at the door. “Grandma said to invite the man to dinner.”

Blade’s eyebrows shot up. “Is he yours, too?”

“Yes. This is Robbie.”

He wanted to ask Maria if she was a glutton for punishment for having three kids, but he kept his mouth closed. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in so long his mouth already watered.

Maria took Daisy from Blade’s arms. “Six o’clock. I hope you like Italian.”

“Love it.”

“Thanks for helping with Daisy. The oil would have ruined my mother’s carpets.”

“No problem. I’ll see you at six.”

He watched Maria walk down the street with Daisy in her arms. She kept a firm hold on the little mutt, and she looked as good from behind as she did from the front.

A roll of paper towels mopped up most of the spilled oil on the driveway. Some had soaked into the blacktop. The landlord wouldn’t be happy about this. Blade took the rest of the dishwashing soap and dumped it on the oily spots. The dishes could wait until next month. After he rolled his Harley into the garage and pulled the door down, he hosed down the oil. The driveway turned into a foaming, bubbling mess. “To hell with it.” He turned off the hose and walked into the house.

A half-hour later, freshly scrubbed, shaved, and combed, he pulled on his favorite blue sweater and clean jeans. He was hungry.
Italian.
The only Italian food he’d had this year had been pizza. He idly wondered if Maria could cook and then dismissed the thought. She didn’t wear a ring, so she might be available, but even if she did look like a goddess, he wasn’t about to get involved with a woman who had three kids.

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As soon as Maria walked in the door with Daisy, all the kids started talking at once. She held up one finger and they grew quiet. “Robbie, take Daisy out on the leash. Jimmy and Andy, I’ll talk to you later.” Andy was fascinated with motorcycles, and keeping him away from Blade’s house could present a problem. Her kids knew better than to go into a stranger’s house. The man could have been a pedophile. And Mom invited him for dinner.

“Go get cleaned up, Maria,” said Mom. “You’re soaking wet.”

“Daisy is dry,” said Jimmy. “She’s all clean.”

“She should be,” Maria said, looking down at her oil-stained shirt.

“It’s Fluffy’s fault,” said Andy. “She made Daisy do it.”

“Yeah,” said Jimmy.

Maria sighed deeply and walked into the bathroom. The boys would defend that dog all night. In their eyes, Daisy could do no wrong. The second bath wouldn’t have taken so long if that idiot hadn’t used so much soap. She knew he didn’t spill it, and she knew he liked the way she looked in her jeans.

There were times when she wished she couldn’t read people’s thoughts. She actually liked the guy until he thought about locking the kids outside with Daisy and screwing her brains out. He didn’t like kids and dogs, but he liked sex. What man didn’t? Fred liked it so well he had to do it with every willing woman he could find.

After a quick shower, Maria pulled on her baggy gray sweats, ran a quick comb through her damp hair, and picked up her lipstick. And put it right back down. She wouldn’t primp for Mr. Harley no matter how well he filled out those jeans. A man who drove a motorcycle and thought about sex while they washed her dog, one who exuded testosterone and sex appeal, couldn’t be trusted. Even his name sounded dangerous. Who in their right mind would name a kid Blade?

She wished Mom hadn’t invited him to dinner.

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Blade walked down the street toward the house at the end. The houses were spaced wide apart, with lots of green space between them for privacy. It was a quiet, older neighborhood of working-class people, and there weren’t many kids on this street. That appealed to him when he moved in two years ago. Then last summer, Maria’s family moved in. Between the noisy kids and the yappy dog, the peace had sprouted wings and flown away.

Stepping up to the front porch of the house at the end of the street, he rang the bell, setting the dog inside to barking. Little feet pounded to the door and it opened. The two younger boys stood there. Andy held Daisy, who sprang free and jumped into Blade’s arms. Tail wagging in a friendly greeting, she slurped his face. Another doggie kiss. Cute little dog, but she was the wrong species.

“She likes you,” said Andy.

“Come in, Blade,” said Maria. She looked like she’d just gotten out of the shower. No makeup, but she didn’t need any. Her lips looked like some guy had kissed all the lipstick off her. Too bad it wasn’t him.

Her chin came up as if he’d said the thought out loud. He hadn’t said it out loud, had he? No, of course not. What was with her?

He walked inside and she pushed the door closed behind him. The aroma in the house made his mouth water. “Mmm, it smells good in here.”

“Grandma’s making lasagna,” said Andy.

Blade handed Daisy back to the kid.

“Don’t you like Daisy?” asked Jimmy.

“She’s okay, if you like little mutts. I like big dogs, ones named Spike and Killer.”

The kids chattered about Uncle Tony’s big dog, Riley, and then an older lady came out of the kitchen. Maria introduced her as her mother, Sophia Donatelli.
Donatelli.
Why did that name sound familiar?

Sophia offered him a glass of wine. “No thanks,” said Blade. He hadn’t had anything alcoholic since he was fifteen, and he didn’t intend to start that destructive cycle again.