Shadow Rider
Page 157
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She dodged his outstretched hand. “Someone has to take care of you.” She reached out and trailed her fingertips over the growing bulge in his trousers. “I’m a full-service kind of woman. Go shower, honey, and let me take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I need to. You always take care of me. It’s my turn.”
He fucking loved that. He watched her go into the kitchen before turning to the master bedroom. He’d wanted a home his entire life. He hadn’t known love or laughter until he’d visited his aunts and uncles and realized his cousins had something important and valuable in their lives that his siblings and he didn’t. Until he’d gone home with Cencio and been introduced to his mother and father. Lucia and Amo were loving and warm all the time. Stefano wanted that for his brothers and sister. He wanted that for himself.
“Francesca.” He murmured her name aloud as he stepped under the soothing hot water. It poured over him and pounded into his aching muscles. He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve her, but he had her and that was all that mattered to him.
He took his time because the water felt good, washing his sins away along with his exhaustion. He dressed in loose-fitting drawstring silk pants and a tight, ribbed wifebeater before padding barefoot into the kitchen.
Francesca was humming softly to herself, her back to him, long hair flowing almost to her waist, as she mixed the pasta. His shadow connected with hers and she looked up instantly with a smile. “Hey, honey. Feel better?”
He nodded and kept going straight to her. “You brought in groceries.” She had made pasta with grilled tiger shrimp and fresh parmesan cheese. A salad sat on the smaller dining table in between the dishes already set out. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table along with two wineglasses.
“I had to get groceries if I was going to be cooking for us. I really enjoy cooking, Stefano.” She flashed a smile. “It gives me a chance to show off.”
He swept her hair off her neck and over one shoulder so he could bend down and kiss her neck, sending a little shiver down her spine. “I like the idea of you cooking for us. Feels like home.” He took the bowl of pasta from her and carried it over to the table. “What have you been up to while I’ve been gone, other than grocery shopping?” He narrowed his eyes. “And you took Emilio and Enzo of course.”
“Actually, Emmanuelle and Enrica went with me,” she corrected, sliding into the chair across from his. “Enrica is all business when we’re out somewhere, but so funny when we’re alone. I really like her.”
He nodded as he served both of them pasta. “Emilio, Enzo and Enrica were always getting into trouble when they were teenagers. Enrica used to sneak out her window to go on a date, because if her brothers or cousins knew, she always had a noisy escort with her.”
Francesca laughed. “I can’t imagine how awful you all were. You boys seem to have the girls outnumbered.”
“Thankfully. We like to keep an eye on our women and we can’t do that if there’s too many of them.”
“Such a chauvinist. Emmanuelle was helping me learn what you all do for those in the neighborhood.”
His head jerked up, the smile fading. He was going to strangle his sister with his bare hands. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She winced. “Seriously, Stefano, you’re going to have to clean up your language before we have children. We just answered some of the calls and checked on people. There’s a flu going around and it hit some of the elderly hard. We went to their homes and brought them medicine, or whatever else they needed. Don’t tell me you don’t do that, because Emme gave you away. My big macho badass takes soup to Agnese Moretti, the schoolteacher, and the homeless woman, Dina, as well as Mr. Lozzi and Theresa Vitale. I sat with each of them and heard all about my man and what a saint he is.” She grinned at him. “Actually, Agnese didn’t mention the word saint—that was Signora Vitale. I believe Agnese said there was hope for you yet.”
He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back in his chair and laughed. That was exactly what his old schoolteacher would say about him. And she’d say it in her prissy schoolmarm voice that told everyone they’d better not contradict her because she was always right. Dio, but he was happy to be home.
“That woman. Is she very ill?” He couldn’t help the concern. He had a special place in his heart for Agnese. Most of the neighborhood did. Especially those she’d taught with such gruff compassion.
“Not as sick as Signora Vitale. I had Enrica call a doctor just to be safe. She’s in her eighties and the flu can be difficult on the elderly. The doc said with a little care she should be fine. Her grandson is staying with her. He promised to heat up the soup and feed her every two hours, even if she takes just a couple of bites.”
He fucking loved that. He watched her go into the kitchen before turning to the master bedroom. He’d wanted a home his entire life. He hadn’t known love or laughter until he’d visited his aunts and uncles and realized his cousins had something important and valuable in their lives that his siblings and he didn’t. Until he’d gone home with Cencio and been introduced to his mother and father. Lucia and Amo were loving and warm all the time. Stefano wanted that for his brothers and sister. He wanted that for himself.
“Francesca.” He murmured her name aloud as he stepped under the soothing hot water. It poured over him and pounded into his aching muscles. He didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve her, but he had her and that was all that mattered to him.
He took his time because the water felt good, washing his sins away along with his exhaustion. He dressed in loose-fitting drawstring silk pants and a tight, ribbed wifebeater before padding barefoot into the kitchen.
Francesca was humming softly to herself, her back to him, long hair flowing almost to her waist, as she mixed the pasta. His shadow connected with hers and she looked up instantly with a smile. “Hey, honey. Feel better?”
He nodded and kept going straight to her. “You brought in groceries.” She had made pasta with grilled tiger shrimp and fresh parmesan cheese. A salad sat on the smaller dining table in between the dishes already set out. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table along with two wineglasses.
“I had to get groceries if I was going to be cooking for us. I really enjoy cooking, Stefano.” She flashed a smile. “It gives me a chance to show off.”
He swept her hair off her neck and over one shoulder so he could bend down and kiss her neck, sending a little shiver down her spine. “I like the idea of you cooking for us. Feels like home.” He took the bowl of pasta from her and carried it over to the table. “What have you been up to while I’ve been gone, other than grocery shopping?” He narrowed his eyes. “And you took Emilio and Enzo of course.”
“Actually, Emmanuelle and Enrica went with me,” she corrected, sliding into the chair across from his. “Enrica is all business when we’re out somewhere, but so funny when we’re alone. I really like her.”
He nodded as he served both of them pasta. “Emilio, Enzo and Enrica were always getting into trouble when they were teenagers. Enrica used to sneak out her window to go on a date, because if her brothers or cousins knew, she always had a noisy escort with her.”
Francesca laughed. “I can’t imagine how awful you all were. You boys seem to have the girls outnumbered.”
“Thankfully. We like to keep an eye on our women and we can’t do that if there’s too many of them.”
“Such a chauvinist. Emmanuelle was helping me learn what you all do for those in the neighborhood.”
His head jerked up, the smile fading. He was going to strangle his sister with his bare hands. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She winced. “Seriously, Stefano, you’re going to have to clean up your language before we have children. We just answered some of the calls and checked on people. There’s a flu going around and it hit some of the elderly hard. We went to their homes and brought them medicine, or whatever else they needed. Don’t tell me you don’t do that, because Emme gave you away. My big macho badass takes soup to Agnese Moretti, the schoolteacher, and the homeless woman, Dina, as well as Mr. Lozzi and Theresa Vitale. I sat with each of them and heard all about my man and what a saint he is.” She grinned at him. “Actually, Agnese didn’t mention the word saint—that was Signora Vitale. I believe Agnese said there was hope for you yet.”
He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back in his chair and laughed. That was exactly what his old schoolteacher would say about him. And she’d say it in her prissy schoolmarm voice that told everyone they’d better not contradict her because she was always right. Dio, but he was happy to be home.
“That woman. Is she very ill?” He couldn’t help the concern. He had a special place in his heart for Agnese. Most of the neighborhood did. Especially those she’d taught with such gruff compassion.
“Not as sick as Signora Vitale. I had Enrica call a doctor just to be safe. She’s in her eighties and the flu can be difficult on the elderly. The doc said with a little care she should be fine. Her grandson is staying with her. He promised to heat up the soup and feed her every two hours, even if she takes just a couple of bites.”
