Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (3 page)

“I know. I don’t want to risk Rat Dog eating them.”

He raises one dark eyebrow. “Rat Dog is in the backyard on a chain. I called and told Mom that, if he tried to go for your shoes again, I’d probably have to replace them for Christmas, and since that’s also your birthday, it’d cost me a small fortune.”

“My shoes don’t cost that much.”

“Noelle.” He eases past me and grabs one of the snakeskin pumps from the shoe rack. “These cost you four hundred dollars.”

“And I wear them at least once a week. That’s an investment, not an expense.” I take the shoe from him and, using the banister to balance, put it on my foot. “Thank you,” I say when he hands me the other shoe.

“You’re welcome. But it’d cost me a fortune because I have to buy you two presents although it’s the same day. Birthday present, Christmas present.”

“Aw, you do love me.”

“And my balls. I love my balls.”

“Always the balls,” I mutter, slipping my other shoe on. “Always the fucking balls.”

“Hey—you’d soon complain if they didn’t work.”

“Why? Balls are useful for children. I already have a Nonna. And you. Why do I need a kid?”

Drake rolls his eyes and shoves my purse at me. “Darlin’, I feel the exact same way about having you.”

“It’s so nice when we agree, don’t you think?” I sweep past him with a wide grin and walk to his truck. “Oh!” I throw him my keys.

He expertly catches them in one hand, shaking his head as he locks my front door. The smile doesn’t drop from my face as he comes over to me and slaps the keys into my hand.

“Pain in my damn ass,” he mutters, his lips twitching.

I can’t argue with that.

“Did Nonna rein her ass in after I left?” Drake questions, backing out of my driveway.

I snort. “That’s the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit, indeed.” I turn in my seat, adjusting my belt so it doesn’t cut into my neck, and run my eyes over his strong profile as he drives. “She got her rosary and walked around the yard, rubbing it and mumbling in Italian the whole time. I’m not sure if she prayed for Mom’s soul or cursed it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised by the cursin’.”

“Neither would I. I think she definitely threw a curse or two in there, surrounded by requests for forgiveness.” I pause. “She might have cursed you, too. I vaguely heard a murmuring of your name and ‘
maledizione,
’ and the words ‘
a fanabla
’ were also mentioned.”

“She wants me to go to Hell?”

“She says it to me weekly. Don’t be offended, lover.”

“Did you seriously just call me ‘lover’?”

“What else do you want me to call you? Boyfriend? Crush?”

“Handsome works.”

“Oy. Does your ego need stroking?”

“I can think of something else that needs stroking.”

“That’s highly inappropriate for dinner with your mother.”

Drake turns the key in the ignition and leans toward me. The glint in his eye screams sexy, and my heart skips a beat as he leans forward and unclips my seat belt.

“We’re not at dinner,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and pulling my face toward his.

Our lips meet. Like always, it’s a heated explosion that feels like fireworks across my skin. I sigh into his mouth as I grasp the collar of his shirt. I hope I never get bored of this—the feeling that tingles through my body whenever he kisses me.

Heat floods my cheeks, and I push him away. “Stop it. The last time you kissed me like that and we went to her house, she asked if I was pregnant because I was ‘glowing.’”

He coughs to hide a chuckle.

It doesn’t work.

Yeah—as if it weren’t bad enough that Nonna has planned our wedding out—you know, the one we’re not even considering—Drake’s mom is desperate for grandkids. Apparently, I should already be three months pregnant based on how quickly she conceived Drake. Never mind that his dad disappeared for a few years by the time he’d turned one.

I cut my eyes to Drake as he drives. His dad isn’t someone we’ve spoken about except for very briefly after he found out his mom was coming home. In fact, his dad isn’t someone he’s ever really spoken about. His fleeting presences in Drake’s life are few and far between, and he doesn’t care about them a whole lot.

I guess it’s hard to care about someone who doesn’t really care about you.

I wonder a lot if that’s why he doesn’t mind my crazy family. We’re just that—a family. The one thing he doesn’t really have himself. My family is intimidating, but I guess an intimidating family is better than no family at all.

Drake steers left and almost immediately pulls into his mom’s driveway. The house is small but homey—and, as Gianna likes to point out, there’re two empty bedrooms and a yard big enough for a kid or two.

I have no idea how long I’m going to be able to survive without booking a flight to the Bahamas and hoping it disappears in the Bermuda Triangle.

I have my money on Thanksgiving.

“Do you ever get the feeling that things are going really, really well?”

“Do you mean with your sanity? Because, yeah, kinda.” He laughs.

“No. In town.”

“Where did that come from?” His expression sobers, his eyebrows drawing together. “That’s random, even for you.”

“I know. I just...have a strange feeling. Like it’s been so quiet in town lately.”

“Noelle, sweetheart, it’s just because we had a few really crappy months. This is how it normally is. You’re waiting for something that isn’t going to happen.”

“Probably. Besides, we haven’t even scratched the surface with the Nonna-and-Mom-demon situation yet. That’s probably it.”

The niggle low in my tummy says otherwise, but hey.

Drake turns to face me and studies me for a moment. “By the way, you’re not glowing anymore.” He smirks and gets out of his truck.

My jaw drops, and I push my door open. “I have no idea if I’m offended by that or no.”

“Does it help if I say you’re still beautiful?”

“Well, now, I
know
I should be offended, you creep.”

He grins and raps his knuckles against the front door before pushing it open. “Mom?”

“On the deck.” Her voice carries straight through the kitchen and the hallway to where I’m now standing behind Drake on the front steps.

“I smell steak,” is all he says before walking into the house and stalking through it to the back door.

I, however, take my steps inside with a little more trepidation. I don’t want Rat Dog to appear out of nowhere. I don’t care if he’s chained in the yard. I wouldn’t be shocked to find out that the little fucker has chewed his way through his chain just to play with my shoes.

Honestly, he’s lucky the Louboutins he treated like his bitch were three years old and probably going to a new home soon anyway.

Gianna’s laugh rings out. “He’s chained, Noelle!”

“I know. Just...you know. Making sure.” I close the front door and walk through the house, peeking into the living room just in case.

She’s still laughing as I reach the back deck. “Ahh, you make me smile,
cara
.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders, squeezes me gently, then kisses the side of my head in her usual greeting to me, using the Italian for
darling
.

If I weren’t so used to touchy-feely people, I’d be creeped out. And, if I weren’t used to the stereotypical Italian beauty, I’d be intimidated.

Gianna is that person—the one you pass in the street and think her son is her brother or her boyfriend. The one who, in her late fifties, probably has never had a gray hair spoil the perfect chestnut locks that tumble over her shoulders. Who has the faintest laughter lines around her eyes and her mouth but carries them in a way that makes her seem so goddamn perfect. And we won’t even mention the fact that the woman probably looks better in a bikini than I do.

I’m aware that I sound like a fawning teenage boy, but seriously. It’s not hard to figure out where Drake gets his good looks from.

“I try,” I reply, half smiling and sitting on the empty, wooden chair. My eyes scan the yard for Rat Dog.

“Chained,” Drake repeats. “Your Louboutins are safe.”

“Hmmm.”

“Drake. There’s wine in the fridge,” Gianna says, flipping the steaks.

Drake gets up without a word and passes me. My lips curve into the tiniest smile as he removes two wine glasses from the cupboard and opens the fridge. I love that it’s all she needed to say and he moved quicker than a bull going for a red flag.

Gianna catches my eye.

I turn to her. “What?”

With her eyebrows raised over glittering eyes and a teasing smile at her lips, she simply says, “Nothing,
cara,
” and turns around again.

I want to tell her I’m not pregnant, but then I feel like she’d ask if I am. And I’m not. No way.

I really need to call my doctor and schedule another appointment to get this thing in my arm replaced in the next few months.

“I hate it when she does that,” I whisper to Drake when he hands me a glass of wine.

“Does what?”

“Stares at me then, when I ask, ‘What?’ tells me, ‘Nothing.’”

He shrugs. “She’s weird. What can I say?”

“Yeah, sure.
Your
mom is the weird one.”

“I heard about the demons,” Gianna cuts over my whispering. “Who won? Kellie or Nonna?”

“Mom. For now.” I sip my wine, hiding my smile at the way everyone calls Nonna Nonna. “The rosary came out, so I’m just waiting for the frantic three-a.m. call about another holy-water bathing.”

Gianna covers her mouth with her hand, but it doesn’t hide her tiny snort. “I’m not going to ask about that.”

“Good choice,” Drake mutters.

I glare at him. Idiot. I can’t help that Nonna’s “special.” I sure wish I could, but eh, I can’t be smart, beautiful, and a saint, right?

I’m just gonna keep telling myself that in the hope that’ll it be true one day. Any of it.

Except the smart. I know I’m smart. You have to be in my job.

“So, Noelle,” Gianna says, setting a plate with a steaming steak and vegetable rice in front of me. “What’s new with Bond P.I.?”

“Thank you,” I reply and reach for the pepper. “Not much, really. I’m working on the same infidelity cases as last week, but we’re all hoping to get our older ones cleaned up in the next few days and reported so we can focus on Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Drake frowns.

“Yeah. Last year, business doubled. Or so I was told. I just got on with it.” I shrug. “It’s the time of year—the masks and stuff. It makes it easier to be ‘open’ without being caught, especially if you’re at a party your spouse isn’t, and a lot of people are. Although it also means people get careless, so in the next three days, I’ll have an influx of calls and we’ll take on a bunch of new clients who are all looking to find out what their spouses are up to.”

Gianna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sounds fun. Need another employee?”

Drake’s frown deepens, but I grin.

“Probably,” I say. “I’ll call you.”

“You cannot be serious.” Drake’s words are sharp.

“Why not? I’m sure she can take photos and scribble notes onto an A5 notepad.”

“Drake,” Gianna says sharply. “I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” I sip my wine innocently.

Gianna winks at me.

She wasn’t joking, either.

Drake shakes his head and presses two fingers to his temple. “I knew I never should have introduced you two.”

“Introduced us?” Gianna taps the back of his head. “Boy, I was changing her diapers when you were screaming, ‘Cooties,’ at her from the other side of the room. I knew her before you could say her dang name. Hush yourself and eat your dinner.”

Shots. Fired.

“Mom, I’m almost certain I never yelled, ‘Cooties,’ at her, and Noelle is not that hard to say.”

“Tell that to Nonna,” I mutter.

“Precisely,” Gianna agrees with me. “And, as certain as you are, son, I’m even more certain that either I or Kellie have a video of you refusing to touch her because of her cooties.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “I never had cooties. Everyone knows it was stinky boys who had cooties.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “If I thought Noelle would kill me, I didn’t bet on her and Mom together,” he murmurs.

“I heard that,” Gianna tells him, cutting into her steak. “Wash your mouth out with soap, you little shit.”

I glance up in time to see them share a look. His lips are turned up, and she’s fully grinning, but Drake doesn’t say another word to her. He just puts a piece of his steak, rarer than mine, into his mouth and winks at me.

That man knows better than to argue with his mama, and I love him even more for it.

“So... Have you seen Wally lately? Or Derrick?” Drake asks, raising his eyebrows. The look in his eyes is innocent, but I know that twitch of his lips. It’s nothing but mischief.

“Now why would I have seen Wally?” Gianna responds, reaching for her wine glass.

“Just a question, Mom.”

“Sure it is,” she drawls in response, touching the rim of the glass to her lower lip. One dark eyebrow quirks. “Now why are you askin’?”

“He broke your heart. If you have contact with him...”

“Nice try, son. I know you don’t like Wally.”

“I like Wally just fine,” Drake protests before swigging his beer.

Gianna snorts, setting her glass down. “When you were fifteen, you threw a cup at his head.”

“I didn’t throw it at him! I threw it at the wall. He just happened to be walking past that particular wall.”

I glance between them.

“No, y’all were fighting about just about everything. You lost your teenaged temper and threw the cup. I stood up for you because you’re my son, but you never liked that man.”

“Because he was screwing Rosie.”

“No!” I gasp then quickly clap my hand over my mouth. “I didn’t know that.”

Drake grimaces.

“Oh, don’t be so shocked,
cara
,” Gianna says dismissively. “We were all young. He’d told her we’d separated but were keeping it quiet until after the holidays for Drake’s sake. He was a charmer, she was smitten... I don’t hold a thing against her. And neither does he.” She cocks her head in his direction.