Real Fake Love (Copper Valley Fireballs #2)(48)

I’m waving my crazy. I can see it in his eyes.

I start to explain more, but he gently sets the books back down and murmurs, “Yeah, I’m gonna call it a night if there’s nothing else you need. Thanks for the new faucet.”

He grabs an apple and heads upstairs, and I remind myself again that this is exactly what I need him to do.

Tempt me, and then remind me that love isn’t the answer.

I’m sighing while signing another book a few minutes later when I realize I’m not alone anymore, and it’s not Dogzilla coming back to check on me.

It’s Nonna.

Nonna, with her very firm arms and rainbow hair and seriously amazing bra, because it has to be amazing to make her boobs look that good under her tank top. “You’re not in bed.”

My whole face gets hotter than a pan of flaming ziti, and we’ve all had recent experience with that. While I like to embrace that whole if you’ve seen one body naked, you’ve seen them all concept, I can’t quite get there when it comes to remembering the way her hair stood up on end in a rainbow of horror when she froze in the doorway as Luca was going down on me.

It was like, when I gave my grandson The Eye, I didn’t mean for him to get involved with the most insane woman to cross his path in the last twenty years. Oh my god. Their kids will probably also have devil-horn hair and fake jobs and they’ll get a shed down by the river to hide all their special rocks that they use to pretend to summon vampires, and we are never comparing spas for waxing.

Or something like that.

Still, I smile brightly, because I’ll smile if it kills me. “I have a bunch of work to catch up on.”

“Psh. Your release date isn’t for another week. You can work tomorrow while Luca’s at the ball field.”

My shoulders tense, because those are my writing hours, not my signing hours, and if I ignore the hours that my muse is willing to sit on my shoulder and help me, I won’t get any words done. Plus, I’m already behind on my deadline, since I spent a month not working on this book. But I smile brighter, because that’s what I do when I want people to like me. “That’s a great idea. Thanks. But I still want to finish these last few before I forget what I wanted to say to the readers.”

“Luca hit a home run today.”

“I know! Wasn’t it amazing? Dogzilla and I were listening on the radio and we were cheering so loudly. Dogzilla even made a whole meow in celebration. That’s super impressive for the laziest cat in the universe. Clearly, she adores him.”

“Why have you been engaged five times?”

“Because my three other boyfriends ran away before I could convince them to put a ring on it.”

She lifts a brow that clearly says I’m not laughing because I know you’re telling the truth, and also, you shouldn’t call those second two your boyfriends since you only got their names at that bar and dreamed about them being your boyfriends when you were taking a break from dating between failed weddings three and four.

And I’m out. I leap to my feet. “Oh, gosh, look at the time. You’re right. I should get to bed. Especially since it’s been a few days since Luca and I saw each other. Work can always wait for the people you love. So glad you’re back, Nonna. We missed you. Hope you had a great trip.”

Yep.

I’m a total chicken and completely intimidated by Nonna Rossi.

Also, I’m so distracted by my nerves that I forget to skip that bottom step and it creaks in the worst kind of ominous way, and I’m positive I barely make it to the next step in time.

“Watch out for that cranky step,” I stage-whisper to Nonna before turning and tripping over Dogzilla, who’s sprawled on the next step in the darkness.

“Henri?” The bathroom door opens, illuminating the stairwell, and Luca leans over to peer at me.

“Just petting the stairs!” I stroke the wood and pretend this is normal. “They were feeling neglected. Be up in a minute.”

His face twitches again.

“You got yourself a keeper, Luca Antonio,” Nonna calls. “Life won’t be boring with this one around.”

Is she mocking me?

I think she’s mocking me.

Not the first time. Won’t be the last. It’s her problem, not mine.

I give the stair one final pat, hoist Dogzilla into my arms, and march the rest of the way up to Luca’s bedroom, pausing in the bathroom to pointedly put the toilet seat down.

That’s not a lesson I’m planning on forgetting anytime soon.

Also, Nonna’s welcome for that too.

In the bedroom, Luca’s already stretched out on the queen-size—yes, queen size bed. He’s easily taking up three-quarters of it, and he’s in nothing but black boxer-briefs that are definitely, ahem, fuller than I’ve seen them before.

I snap my eyes up to the squeaking ceiling fan currently running so fast that if it fell apart, one of the blades would probably fly through fifteen feet of reinforced concrete thanks to its velocity. Despite the bucket of cold water that Nonna effectively threw all over my clit fifteen minutes ago, she’s back and in the game.

My clit, I mean.

Not Nonna.

Wow. I’m even awkward in my head tonight. This isn’t a good sign.

“So you know, I sleep almost naked too,” I whisper.

Luca doesn’t open his eyes. “We’re both grown-ups.”