“Scary? Freaky? Inhuman?” I offer. What? They’re totally realistic. Anyone who’s seen Nonna angry—and I mean rip-your-hair-out angry—know she morphs into another species entirely. She’s worse than I am.
And that is saying something.
“Noelle,” Mom snaps.
I laugh in response. Her heart isn’t in that at all. It’s that shocked-yet-amused kind of snap you give a two-year-old when they say fuck for the first time—and come on, we’ve all done it.
“Mom,” I say—reasonably, in my opinion, “Nonna is batshit crazy. Don’t sugarcoat it. She’s all love and fuckin’ fairies until you mention the M-word. Well, Dev went and mentioned it—right in front of her, no less—and now, he’s not even growing balls big enough to deal with it.” I smack my lips together and turn to Amelia. “I’ll talk to Nonna.”
Drake snorts.
“Okay, I’ll try to talk to Nonna,” I correct myself. Screw him, the know-it-all. “I’ll ask her to back off a little, just to give you time to breathe.”
“So, like, six months? Minimum?” Amelia asks, her eyes as wide as they were when I stepped into my office fifteen minutes ago. “Because I love Devin. I do. But I am nowhere near ready to jump into a marriage just weeks after he proposed.”
Being a marriage-phobe myself, I can see her resignation.
“Well, that’s kinda down to Devin…” I hesitate. “A little.”
“Oh, God,” she moans, burying her face in her hands. “This is it, isn’t it? I have to get married in three weeks. He’ll never say no to her. I’m not ready for this. Oh my God.”
“You could elope,” Drake offers. Unhelpfully.
Very unhelpfully.
Amelia looks up, whimpers, and her bottom lip quivers when she presses her hands to her cheeks.
Behind me, he shuffles toward to the door, realizing his mistake. I glare at him at the exact moment Mom grabs his arm and yanks him back the few steps he just took.
Nuh-uh. If he wants to date me and be dumb enough to get involved in wedding catastrophes, he gets the crazy side of my family, too. You know, the side that isn’t all me.
“Oh, honey.” Mom rushes past me and crouches in front of Amelia. “Just tell him you aren’t ready. We love you. Take your time!”
“But she won’t understand!” Amelia argues. She brings her hands down just far enough that I can see the tears brimming in the bottom of her eyes. “She’s been doing this since the day after. I love her, but I can’t take any more. It’s driving me insane. I-I don’t even want to marry him. Not if it’s like this.”
Well, now, I want to re-suggest that they could elope, but I’m guessing that still won’t be appropriate.
Hey, way to go, brain-to-mouth filter!
“I’ll talk to her,” I promise her again. “Later. I’ll call her and tell her to stop until my ears bleed from her angry, Italian bitchin’.”
“You will? Really?” One tear drips over her bottom eyelid and disappears down her cheek into her fingertip.
Fuck. “Yeah. She is a little crazy over this whole thing. I think she left her boundaries in Italy.”
“Thank you,” Amelia whispers, wiping at her tears. “Just for trying.”
I lift one shoulder then drop it with resignation. “Don’t worry. I can maybe buy you twenty-four hours of peace, so you tell my damn brother to use his balls and have a goddamn word with her.”
She nods, leaning into Mom when she squeezes her shoulder. “Absolutely. Thank you. Thank you!”
“Like I said, don’t worry.” I set my now-cold coffee on my desk.
Cold coffee. Of course. Obviously. That’s exactly what my morning off needs.
“Come on, darlin’,” Mom says to Amelia, forcing her to stand up. “Let’s go to Rosie’s and get us some pie.”
Mmm, Rosie’s pie.
“Can you send me a cupcake?” I ask hopefully.
Mom scowls at me.
“That’s a no, then,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.
Amelia winks over her shoulder as Mom ushers her out.
I grin.
Someone gets me, at least.
“Hot damn,” Drake breathes into the silence. “Is it me or are all the women in your family absolutely fuckin’ mental?”
I spin in my seat, resting one arm over the back of the chair, and raise an eyebrow at him. I don’t care how handsome he is. I’m the only person allowed to call me mental. Everyone else is fair game.
“Excuse me?”
“Except for you,” he amends, grinning in that eye-brightening way that gives me butterflies every time. “You’re a special kind of crazy, and I happen to be real fuckin’ fond of your kinda crazy.”
“But only on days that end in Y, right? Isn’t that what we agreed?”
His laugh is deep and rumbly, and oh God, I hate that damn laugh.
I’m a terrible liar.
“Sure, cupcake. Only on days that end in Y. And guess what? Sunday ends in Y.”
“Ugh,” I groan, dropping my head back dramatically. “Sunday just gets worse, doesn’t it?”
He closes the distance between us in a few short steps. I smile when he grabs the back of the chair and leans down, his hand curling around my waist.
“I can think of several ways to make it better,” Drake says in a low tone. “But they’ll have to wait, because I’m on duty.”
“You’re boring.”
“Responsible,” he replies, dropping his mouth to mine with a smile.
Our lips brush softly, and I say, “If you’re on duty, why are you still here?”
“I need your help.” His mood changes instantly, and the tension in his arm shifts from lover to cop.
“It’s just killing you to say that, isn’t it?” I open my eyes and meet his. He’s still hovering above me, and his lips have thinned into a line. “Admit it. You, the big, bad wolf, hate needing to ask this little piggy for help.”
“Shut it or this wolf is gonna eat you.”
I smack my lips together and look away innocently. “Never really been a threat before.”
He taps the side of my head. “Noelle. Focus.”
“Okay.” I draw the word out and sit up as he walks to the door and closes it. “But you really shouldn’t say ‘eat you’ to me, okay?”
“Noelle.”
“You distracted me!”
“Noelle!” he growls, dropping into the chair opposite me. “Focus. Now!”
“This is my morning off!” I whine. Seeing his unwavering, hard gaze and tight jaw, I push up off the chair. “Fine!” I stomp around my desk and sit in my comfy leather chair, cross my legs, and rest my hands on my desk. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“I swear to God, if you’re fuckin’ with me right now…”
“I’m always fuckin’ with you,” I shoot back. “But if I’m here, on my day off, and you’re being all sweet boyfriend one minute then pain in my fuckin’ ass the next, I’m gonna take a little extra fuck.”
He looks up at the ceiling, and as he covers his eyes with his hand, his lips move. I guess he’s counting to ten. I think that’s his new patience tool to cut down on fights. Wait—yep.
He mouths, “Ten,” drops his hand to his lap, and refocuses his gaze on me. “Calmed down yet?”
Huh. Maybe the countdown is for me.
“I’m still slightly passionate.” I rest my chin in my palm and, tilting my head to the side, offer him my sweetest smile as my nails tap my cheek.
There are two ways to get Drake back on my side: sex and this smile.
“It’s not gonna work, Noelle,” he warns me. The twitch of his lips gives him away.
Seriously, the man is a terrible liar.
I widen my smile in response until it’s almost cheesy.
“Dammit.” The word is muttered as he rubs his hand down his face. “Just once, I’d like to stay mad at you, you know that?”
“Yep.” I fight my laughter. “What do you need me for?”
One dark eyebrow quirks up. “Professionally or personally?”
“I’m on the professional side of my desk…”
He sighs dramatically, and I laugh quietly. He’s the one who insisted we get down to business. Not that business. Although I wish it were that business. That business is way more fun…