Tossed Into Love
Page 6

“They need me at the station. One of the guys called in, so they’re down a man. This normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but Marco’s off tonight, Peggy just went home to be with Valeria, and Hector can’t close the shop alone.”
“So you need my help?”
“Yes.”
“You could have just asked nicely,” I tell him.
He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, looking uncomfortable.
“Can you please help me out?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” he asks, surprised.
“Yes.” I roll my eyes, then head for my closet. “I just need to get ready.”
“I’ll wait and walk with you.”
“I can find my own way after I finish getting ready,” I point out. “Don’t you need to head to the station?”
“I’ll wait,” he repeats, going over to my couch and taking a seat.
Trying to ignore the fact that there’s an extremely handsome man in my apartment, I grab a pair of jeans from my wardrobe, along with the T-shirt he gave me with the Tony’s logo on the front. I take everything with me into my bedroom and shut the door. I change quickly, then head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair. Once I’m done, I go back into the living room and grab a pair of socks out of my drawer. I pick up my boots, then take a seat on the couch next to him to put them on.
“This is a lot of junk food . . . ,” he says, sounding slightly horrified.
I notice that he’s picked up all the wrappers from the candy I’ve eaten tonight and wadded them into a ball in his hand.
“No, it’s not,” I lie, looking at him.
His head tips to the side.
“I’ve never seen you without makeup,” he says suddenly.
I expect him to add something that will make me want to kick him, so I brace myself.
“You don’t need it.”
Okay, I didn’t expect him to say that.
Hearing a scream come from the TV, we both look at it.
“Scary movie?”
“Yes.” I grab the remote and flip off the television, then pick up my half-eaten container of lo mein and put it away in the fridge so I can eat it later.
“You don’t seem like the kind of girl who watches scary movies alone,” he states as he stands up from the couch and watches me put on my coat, hat, and gloves.
“And exactly what kind of movies would you think I might watch?”
“Ones with lots of romance,” he answers.
My nose scrunches up in disgust. “I hate romance movies. They are always so cliché. Guy and girl meet, guy is a jerk, girl is an idiot for him even when he’s a jerk. Still, the girl always falls in love with him, forgetting that he was a jerk to begin with, and in the end that comes back to bite her in the ass when he’s an even bigger jerk. She cries, usually a lot. He realizes at some point what he lost and then finally he begs her for forgiveness. Always—but always—she takes him back, even when she shouldn’t.”
“You really don’t like romance movies.” His lips twitch, and I roll my eyes again. “I’m learning a lot about you tonight, Princess.” He chuckles, and I glare at him.
“Don’t annoy me, Antonio.”
I open the door to my apartment and sweep my hand outward, indicating he should leave ahead of me.
“Even annoyed, you’re still pretty,” he says, stopping to look down at me.
My stomach dips, then knots in a way that it never has before.
“Definitely pretty,” he mutters as he walks out the door.
With a shake of my head, I step out after him and lock up behind me. Following him down to the first floor, my stomach still in knots, I stare at his back. I wonder what the hell is going on with him. When we reach the sidewalk, we walk side by side—so close that our arms brush.
“Here.” He hands me a key, and I take it. “Hector’s going to stay with you tonight, but he doesn’t have his key with him. So you’ll have to use mine. In the morning, I’ll pick it up from you.”
“I have work tomorrow.”
“What time?”
“I have to leave by seven thirty.”
“I’ll be by before that.”
Figuring it’s pointless to argue about this, I sigh. “Okay.”
“I’ll have my cell on if you need anything,” he says as we stop outside the door to Tony’s.
I look up at him when he dips his head down toward me.
“It will be okay,” I say quietly, seeing that he looks worried.
“I know it will.” His eyes scan my face, making me shift uncomfortably. “Call me when you get home tonight.”
“I’m not going to call you,” I mutter.
His lips twitch into a smile before he shakes his head and walks away down the sidewalk.
“You coming in, chiquita?” Hector asks, startling me.
I spin around to face him, feeling my cheeks get warm at the knowledge that I was just standing on the sidewalk like an idiot female lead in a romance movie watching the jerk she’s lusting after walk away.
“Come on.” Hector tugs my hand and drags me inside.
I follow him in, drop my stuff in the office, and get to work.
Hearing my cell phone ring, I reach out with my eyes still closed and pat the top of my bedside table until my hand lands on it. Picking it up, I squint one eye open, slide my finger across the screen, and then put it to my ear.
“Yeah?” I answer, half-asleep.
“You didn’t call,” Antonio says, his voice sounding rough. Like he just woke up.
“I told you I wasn’t going to call.”
“You get home okay?” he asks, ignoring my comment.
I sigh. “Yes . . .”
“Everything go okay tonight?”
“Yes.”
“All right, babe. Go back to sleep.”
He hangs up, and I pull my phone from my ear and stare at it.
“Babe? Now what the hell is that about?” I whisper my question into the dark, but of course get no answer in return. I drop my cell back to my bedside table, but it takes me forever to get back to sleep. The replay of Antonio’s deep voice calling me “babe” is on a continuous loop in my mind.
Hearing a knock on my apartment door early the next morning, I rush across to it, tying my robe as I go. I lift up on my tiptoes to check the peephole, then feel my heart start to beat a funny rhythm in my chest when I see Antonio standing outside. His head is turned to the left and tipped down like he’s looking at something. Glancing at myself in the mirror hanging next to the door, I cringe. My hair is a mess because I went to bed last night with it wet. There are bags under my eyes from not sleeping much. I look toward my bedroom, wondering in vain if I have time to put on some under-eye concealer or brush my hair.
“Libby?” he calls through the door, knocking again.
I jump. With no other choice, I open the door a crack and look out.
“Hey . . . ,” I say, hating myself a little for sounding as breathy as I do.
“Libby Reed, what is that man doing coming to see you this time of the morning?”
I wince, then poke my head out the door and look down the stairs. It’s Miss Ina, the old woman who lives on the first floor. She’s standing at the bottom of the steps dressed in a robe, her white hair flat on one side like she just woke up.
“Miss Ina, it’s okay. It’s just Antonio. You can go back to bed.”
“Go back to bed?” She plants her hands on her hips, and I sigh.
Until a few days ago, I’d never shared more than a handful of words with the woman—honestly, she scared the crap out of me. Then Mac befriended her and invited her to our parents’ house for Christmas dinner. It was during the drive to Long Island that I learned she’s actually kind of nice in a grumpy-old-woman sort of way. I’m also starting to figure out that she’s nosy. Okay, I already knew that she was nosy, but now that we’ve started to talk, she’s become even more nosy.
“I can’t go back to bed now that I know you’re going to be alone in your apartment with a man while you’re wearing nothing but a dressing gown.”