The Worst Best Man(51)

“Marco just knocked up Rachel,” Frankie reminded him. “Marco’s our other brother and Rachel’s his wife,” she explained for Aiden’s benefit.

“Well, don’t worry because you just gave her even more grandmotherly hope,” Gio teased, unpacking the bags.

Frankie shook her head. “I hate you. What did you bring?”

Gio unpacked four deli sandwiches, pickles wrapped in wax paper, and a large bag of barbeque chips. “The usual. You hangin’ out, Aide?”

No one in his entire life had called him Aide before Franchesca. It appeared that the Baranski family enjoyed assigning nicknames.

“We taped the UFC fight from last night,” Gio said, wiggling a sandwich at him.

“Mixed martial arts?” Aiden asked, eyeing the glorious stacked sandwiches.

“Ugh,” Frankie rolled her eyes. “Fine. You can stay. But I call dibs on the roast beef.”

“You got beer?” Gio asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on.” Frankie headed into the kitchen, and Aiden followed her.

“We still need to talk,” he told her, reaching out to grip her slim wrist.

“Yeah, we do,” she sighed. “But not around the big mouth singing bass out there.”

“Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

She eyed him for a moment, and he thought she might be trying to come up with an excuse. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m picking the place.”

“Done.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek. “See how easy this is? You tell me what you want, and I give it to you.”

He had the pleasure of seeing goose bumps raise on her neck and arms. Aiden grabbed the beers she pulled from the fridge and wandered back to the living room.

They settled on her couch with Gio in the ratty armchair and ate sandwiches built by a master while watching men and women pummel each other into bloody submission. Frankie and Gio had action on nearly every match and enjoyed ribbing each other throughout. Aiden tried to imagine doing the same with his half-brother. It was unfathomable. They’d never had an easy relationship like this.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Gio asked, biting into a pastrami on rye.

Franchesca took a quick swallow of beer. “Well, Aide here called me a stripper five seconds after we were introduced. I told him he was an asshole. And then his brother kidnapped Chip the night before his wedding, and we had to track him down.”

Gio’s sandwich fell out of his hands into the wrapper in his lap.

“You serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Aiden admitted. “But I didn’t really mean the stripper thing.”

“Good,” Gio said good-naturedly. “I’d hate to have to beat you down on a full stomach.”

“I’d hate to be beaten down,” Aiden agreed.

Frankie picked up her beer and watched until Gio took another bite of his sandwich.

“Oh, and we had awesome sex last night. Crazy awesome.”

Gio choked on his sandwich, coughing until Frankie got up to slap him in the back.

“Goddammit. I hate when you do that shit.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven


The restaurant Frankie chose was a hole-in-the-wall Portuguese place sandwiched between an empty storefront and a hot yoga studio on a quiet street in Brooklyn. The tables had no cloths, and the menus looked as though they’d been printed from a back-office printer. But the smells coming from the kitchen were nothing short of heavenly.

Aiden silenced his phone and slipped it inside his jacket pocket. He didn’t want anything trying to steal his attention from the woman across the table. Frankie had worn her hair down and, in keeping with the casual atmosphere of the restaurant, she was wearing tight jeans, a sweater with a neckline that kept drawing his eye to her delectable cleavage, and soft suede boots.

She seemed… comfortable, perusing her menu, resting her chin in her hand. He tried to remember the last woman he saw who didn’t maintain perfect posture and actually asked for and remembered the names of the waitstaff.

“What?” Frankie asked, frowning at him over her menu.

“I was just…”

“If you say admiring the view, I’m going to throw up on the table.”

Aiden shook his head. The words that came out of her mouth… “Well, we can’t have that now.”

“Then why were you staring at me?”

“Because I like looking at you. You’re interesting to watch.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a compliment so we don’t have to start our first date with a fight,” Frankie decided.

“It was very much meant as a compliment. You’re different than—”

“What you’re used to.” She closed the menu. “Which brings me to my first point in what I hope will be a civil discussion.”

“You’re not going to threaten to rip my face off and feed it to me like you did your brother last night, are you?” Aiden asked.

“Har har, smart guy. Let’s just put this on the table. We have literally nothing but pretty spectacular orgasms in common.”

The word “orgasms” had his cock stirring. “I find it hard to believe there’s nothing else. How do you feel about puppies and apple pie?”