Baking and Babies (Chocoholics #3)(46)

“Let’s go, *s. There’s a bottle of vodka on ice at the hotel with my name on it and it’s not gonna drink itself,” she announces before pulling her head back inside.

“You people better not get on my nerves tonight,” I mutter as I wait for Ava and Charlotte to get in the limo. “Drunk people are complete idiots when you’re sober.”

I hold onto the door and listen to Ava start up a chant with the rest of the women until the sounds of ten females screaming “Drunk bitches” repeatedly fills the quiet night. As I bend down to get in the limo and seal my fate, I hear my name shouted from the house. Quickly pulling back from the open door, I turn around to see Marco jogging down the front porch and across the yard.

All these years of making fun of my sisters for losing their heads over guys…is this what it was like for them? The nerves, the sweaty palms, and racing heart whenever you’re in the same vicinity as him? The constant anxiety that you aren’t smart enough, good enough or pretty enough to keep the interest of someone like him? I spent so much of my life making fun of how Charlotte and Ava behaved and I thought they were sad and pathetic. I get it now, and I’m ashamed of myself for being so hard on them. I watch Marco’s face light up as he rushes towards me and I want to crawl under a rock because I don’t feel worthy of that look in his eyes. The one that says he likes me, in spite of my family, and that I make him happy. The pressure of this is so much worse than anything I did in culinary school.

I move towards him in a trance, meeting him in the middle of the front yard. It’s not fair for someone to be so good-looking without even trying. Even in a tight, long-sleeved grey t-shirt and worn jeans he looks just as good as he would if he were wearing a tux.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left,” he smiles, the dimples in his cheeks making my knees weak.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, hoping he didn’t race out here to ask for advice on how to make Uncle Drew stop dropping his pants and showing everyone his balls.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just forgot something.”

I open my mouth to ask if he forgot to write down the number to Poison Control in case Tyler gets into the nail polish remover again, but before I can take a breath, his hands are cupping my face and his lips are on mine. With my lips still parted to speak, his tongue slides easily into my mouth. All the blood in my body rushes to my nether regions and with every brush of his tongue against mine, I feel myself getting lightheaded. My hands fly to his chest and I grab onto handfuls of his shirt to hold myself steady as he kisses me soft and slow and the world around me disappears. He tastes like peppermint and smells like cookies, and I want to jump into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. My heart thumps rapidly in my chest as our tongues swirl together until I’m not sure where he begins and I end. Our mouths have become one and have replaced everything in my brain with cheesy romantic poetry and dreamy Jane Austen quotes.

I need to stop this kiss before I turn completely stupid.

I never want this kiss to end and I don’t care if it turns me into Uncle Drew.

Marco slowly ends the kiss, gently biting my bottom lip as he pulls his mouth from mine. With my face still cradled in his hands, he presses his forehead to mine and sighs.

“Sorry, I tried to wait until we were alone to do that, but I think hell might freeze over before then,” he laughs softly.

“GET A ROOM, YOU WHORES!”

The lust-filled excitement in my body quickly vanishes when I hear Ava yell to us from the limo.

“Wrap it up before you knock her up on the front lawn! Oh, wait…” Ava adds with a loud giggle.

“I should probably go. The drunks are getting restless,” I tell him softly, wishing I never had to move and his warm, soft hands never had to drop from my face.

“Be careful,” Marco says as his hands slide from my face and down the sides of my neck to rest on my shoulders. “Never take a drink you didn’t pour yourself, and if you’re being attacked, always scream ‘fire’ instead of ‘help’.”

I snicker, unclenching the death grip on his shirt to rest my hands on top of his on my shoulder.

“I’m hanging out with my aunts, sisters, and cousins all night,” I remind him.

“You’re forgetting I’ve met those women. You should be more afraid of them giving you a roofie and trying to rape you,” he responds with a serious expression on his face.

“I’ll call you later to make sure you’re still alive,” I tell him, regrettably taking a step back from him.

He laughs and sticks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, Minivan Fuck Nugget! Do me a favor and grab the blow torch, edible underwear, Christmas tree tinsel, and the bag of goldfish from my trunk on your way in,” Uncle Drew shouts from the open front door.

“Goldfish, as in goldfish crackers?” Marco yells back.

“Uh, no. Twenty-four live goldfish. Why in the world would I have goldfish crackers in my trunk? I thought you said he was smart, Molly?” Drew complains before going back inside.

Marco shakes his head and starts backing away from me as I do the same, refusing to take my eyes off of him as I move towards the limo.

“My mom keeps a cookie jar on top of the fridge with bail money in it, just in case,” I inform him as my butt bumps against the side of the limo.