Muffin Top (Page 41)

“You know, it doesn’t really matter,” she said, stopping at his car while he unlocked and opened the door for her. “I thought it would, but what matters is my life back home in Waterbury, not showing up people I went to high school with for the sake of my ego.”

“I hope I can still help you have fun tonight,” he said, a sexy rumble in his tone.

She got into the passenger seat. “Does that mean you’re going to sing karaoke for the final event instead of me?”

“Hell no,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll help you have plenty of fun later.”

Now that, she didn’t doubt for a minute.

…

Frankie hadn’t gone to a prom after his freshman year—not because he didn’t have plenty of date options, but because the nuns of St. Mary’s had banned him from the big dance his senior year after an unfortunate experiment in what would happen if someone in a snorkel mask got sprayed down with a fire extinguisher in the middle of the cafeteria. He and Finian might have gotten away with it, too, if they hadn’t picked their younger and way-too-rule-following brother Ford to test out their hypothesis—without Ford knowing.

Now Frankie was standing in the Kavanaghs’ living room in a suit and holding a corsage made from a trio of bright red ranunculus flowers. He’d never heard of them before, but earlier when he stopped in at Wolfsbane Antiques and Collectibles to ask Henrietta where he could get a corsage for Lucy, the grumpy old biddy had snarled when he said he wanted to get a rose corsage.

“That woman, she deserves something a little more special than the default flower for people who’ve never had an original thought in their head, don’t you think?”

As much as he hated to admit it, Henrietta had been right.

She’d sighed and had shaken her head. “Men are so easily stumped. And that is why I never said yes to Henry, no matter how many times he asked. Well, that and the fact that our names were practically identical. Could you imagine?” She’d pulled out an iPad with the largest screen possible. “Let’s check the Google, shall we?”

Like the idiot he’d been feeling right about then, he’d nodded and kept his mouth closed.

“So how would you describe our girl Lucy?”

He hadn’t even had to think about it. “Pretty. Funny. Smart. Amazing.”

The older woman had typed away on her screen, her fingers moving faster than he’d expected from a woman Henrietta’s age. Then she must have hit on something, because her fingers had stopped moving and she’d dragged her finger down the screen. When he’d tried to peek, she’d shot him an annoyed glare.

“Don’t suppose I can add sexy-as-all-get-out to that list?” she’d asked.

He’d laughed. Not because what she’d said was funny—it was really fucking true—but because hearing it from someone who had probably spent the last million decades surrounded by antiques hit him right on the funny bone.

“Oh hell yes.”

“Damn skippy,” she’d said, grinning back at him, and then she’d glanced back down at her screen. “And are you dazzled by her charms?”

He’d given the older woman his best wouldn’t-you-like-to-know sexy smirk. “Without a doubt.”

“Then here it is, the ranunculus.” She’d put her iPad down on the counter between them, faceup so he’d been able to see the bright red flower with tightly wound petals that formed a big bloom. “It says they are sexy and sassy. Plus it gets bonus points for its meaning.” She’d tapped the text under the picture of the flower.

Meaning: I’m dazzled by your charms.

Yeah, that just about summed it up. “Mrs. Campher, you are a goddess among women.”

Her snowy eyebrows went up in the universal sign for no shit, sonny. “And don’t I know it.”

And that’s how he’d ended up standing in the living room feeling like he’d become a cast member in some time travel movie where he’d gone back and gotten stuck in a younger version of himself. He hadn’t had this much anticipation about seeing a woman since Alice Evers had slipped off her bra and shown him the first real-life boobs he’d ever gotten to see. In that moment on the bus on the way back from a school field trip to Harbor City’s Natural History Museum, it was like getting a glimpse of a whole new world that he’d never known about before. It had knocked him six ways to Saturday and changed his whole perspectives on things.

That moment was nothing, however, compared to seeing Lucy walking into the living room in a tomato red dress that would have been simple in its design if it wasn’t for the woman in it. The sleeveless dress had a deep V-neck that showed off the beyond generous curve of her breasts. The fit followed the lines of her body down to her waist, where it flared out into a skirt that ended right at her knees, showcasing those fucking amazing legs that had been wrapped around his head out on that floating dock.

“Wow.” Yeah, not his most brilliant line ever, but he’d never meant it more.

Lucy did a little spin, sending her skirt a few inches up in the air and making him forget how to breathe. She glanced down at the ranunculus tied together with a silver ribbon and let out a small gasp.

“Did you get flowers?” Her eyes went wide with pleasure. “Why did you do that?”

“Just to see that expression on your face.”

She stopped mid-step toward him, her hand going to her chest. He could practically read her emotions like she had a news ticker on her forehead. It went something like oh shit. She’d been more than plain last night. Commitment wasn’t realistic. Skeptical, that’s how she’d put it. He’d been right there with her for most of his adult life. Then he’d sat down at a table in Marino’s across from a woman who busted his balls while sharing her french fries and making him laugh his ass off.

Not surprisingly, because Lucy was never thrown off her game for more than a second or two, she broke the moment.

“Frankie,” she said, making his name sound like a plea and a promise, then punctuated it with a little chuckle. “You’re going to ruin me for other men.”

He was really beginning to hope so. Not that he was going to say that out loud and freak her out, but yeah, it was there. The idea that maybe there was more to this had definitely taken root.

Continuing his innate sense of when to cause absolute, joyous chaos, Gussie picked that moment to come sprinting into the living room on one of those unexplainable canine runs. The dog barreled right toward Frankie in what had become his signature move—leaping into the air and aiming straight for his balls.

Jealous because you don’t have any?

Frankie made a raised-leg-twisting move to protect the family jewels while lifting the corsage up in the air. After Lucy’s reaction, there was no way he was sacrificing the red blooms at the altar of a fat-tongued, pint-sized demon dog.

“Gussie, no,” she hollered, rushing over to him and snagging the dog in midair as it bounced off him like he was a human bounce house. “You are such a naughty boy.”

“He’s just protecting his sister,” Tom said as he walked into the living room.

Tom looked between her and Frankie before nailing him to the wall with a look that really did make him feel like he was picking up a date for the high school prom. Good thing Tom was carrying a phone instead of a shotgun. The man might be a sex therapist, but Frankie couldn’t shake the feeling that that didn’t mean he was okay with his daughter doing the deed.