The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(193)

“Knock ’em dead, cara,” he said in mine, hand on my waist when he kissed my jaw.

I kissed his, leaned back, gave him a smile, and made to rush right back out.

“Frankie! Two seconds! I want you in this shot!” Theresa called.

“I’ll be in the next one!” I called back, hustling forward but smiling and waving backward.

“Frankie!” she shouted.

“Love you, Theresa!” I yelled from the kitchen and kept going.

It sucked that I had back-to-back interviews the day before Thanksgiving when family was hitting town, but the jobs were both local and they were both promising.

It wasn’t that I minded being out of work for a while. It was nice. It was just that all Benny’s junk was sorted, the house was clean, the guest room done, so I had nothing to do with my days. It would also be good to get back.

And anyway, I was right.

I wanted to be in that photo Theresa was taking.

But I’d get in the next one.

* * * * *

I disconnected my call, got off the couch in the living room, and headed down the hall. Hearing Godsmack playing low in the kitchen, I got myself a diet Fanta Grape from the fridge Ben had moved in the den.

Then I walked across the hall and stood outside the baby gate at the kitchen door, which was there to keep Gus out. This was something Gus didn’t like and I knew this considering he was sitting on his ass at the door, his tail wagging, his eyes aimed through the gate.

I aimed my eyes into the kitchen and saw my man in the gutted space, its walls newly painted butter yellow, laying tile.

“I’m uncertain how me wanting new towels, a floor, and backsplashes translated into you gutting the entire kitchen,” I remarked, popping the tab on my Fanta.

“Is that you askin’ me why I’m doin’ something?”

I grinned. “Yeah.”

He looked from the tile he’d just laid to me. “You get a new kitchen. Why do you wanna know why I’m givin’ it to you?”

“Because I don’t have a stove right now and I like havin’ a stove.”

Ben looked back to what he was doing, saying, “You’ll have a stove in about a week.”

“A week is a long time,” I noted.

“A week is a week,” he replied.

“True enough,” I muttered, smiling. “A week is a week.”

“You done bustin’ my chops?” Benny asked, setting in another tile.

“Maybe.”

“Whatever,” he murmured, grinning at the tile, being my awesome Benny because I was a woman who busted her man’s chops and he was a man who liked it.

“You wanna know what Tandy said?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“The board officially promoted Travis Berger from acting CEO to just plain CEO, seein’ as he did so well with all that crap that went down after Tenrix bein’ bad was outed.”

“And I give a shit about that because…?” Ben queried.

I grinned at the lip of my can and replied, “Just an FYI,” before I took a sip.

“What did Tandy say about the job?”

“Seein’ as it pays ten grand more a year and I told her I talked my new bosses into payin’ her moving expenses because she was that good of an assistant, she said she’d take it.”

Benny’s eyes came to me and I found, not for the first time, that I was right: I wasn’t used to their beauty. I’d never get used to their beauty. Especially not when they looked like that—happy in a way that I knew he was happy for me.

“Good news, baby,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” I replied just as softly. “Team Frankie and Tandy are gonna kick ass at our new jobs in Chicago.”

He smiled at me.

No. I’d never get used to getting all that goodness from Benny Bianchi.

“We’ll celebrate tonight. Come in and keep me company in the kitchen,” he invited on an order.

“That I can do,” I told him, but only because I liked keeping him company in his kitchen. “Now, what I’m gonna do is leave you to do what you seem to have to do. I’m goin’ over to bug Mrs. Zambino.”

“Take Gus with you. He’s makin’ me feel guilty.”

I looked down at Gus, who did indeed look like he was pining for his daddy, even if his daddy was only six feet away.

I looked back at Benny. “You got it, capo.”

Ben gave me a look, but he did it with his lips twitching.

I gave him a grin and informed him, “You can turn the music back up now.” Then I patted my thigh and called my dog as I moved to the front door. Gus followed me, no longer pining for Daddy. He was panting and had a doggie smile on his face, happy he was getting time with Mommy.

The music ratcheted high. I grinned as I found my cardigan, pulled it on, put the leash on Gus, and we headed out the door and across the street. I walked up Mrs. Zambino’s stoop and Gus waddled up beside me.

Once there, I juggled the leash and my hold on my can of pop and knocked on the door.

She opened it two seconds later and a half second after that, demanded to know, “What are you and that mongrel doing over here?”

I took in her perfectly coifed hair and made a mental note to ask where she got her sweater so I could get the same exact one before I replied, “We’ve come for a visit.”