Dating Games(120)

“Having kids does that,” he reminded me, as he so often did. As if I didn’t hear it enough from my aunts, who warned me my ovaries were going to shrivel up if I didn’t have a baby soon.

I opened my mouth to respond when the faint aroma of coffee met my senses. It must have hit Drew, as well, because his shoulders slumped slightly. “Smells like Aunt Gigi’s down there.”

He groaned, running a hand over his stubble. “I suppose I should make an appearance. She acts like she owns the place instead of the other way around.”

“Do you blame her? She’s worked there since she was sixteen.”

Aunt Gigi, short for Giorgina, was our father’s younger sister. Our great-grandfather, Alfonso Brincoli — changed to Brinks when he landed on Ellis Island — started Modern Grounds in the early twentieth century. Back then, it was just a little cart he pushed to the waterfront where he sold coffee and cookies to the fishermen. It was now one of the few non-chain coffee shops left in the city and was located in the North End of Boston, the only place in town where Mom-and-Pop restaurants and coffee shops still flourished. The café had been passed down through the generations until our father took over several decades ago. It almost went belly-up a few years ago, but Drew stepped in and bought the place, keeping the family business afloat. More importantly, keeping Starbucks out of the North End.

My great-grandfather had bought the buildings we lived in when he moved his business to its current location. Over the years, the two apartments were typically rented out to employees of the coffee shop or their friends. When Carla left Drew, he moved into the apartment above the café, and I moved into the building across the alley so I’d be around to help him with the girls. Plus, I loved being just steps away from some of the best coffee in Boston.

“Daddy!” a small voice called behind Drew. A mess of dark curls appeared beside him, peeking her head out the window, a wide smile on her face. “Good morning, Auntie Molly!”

“‘Morning, Alyssa,” I replied with a grin reserved only for my nieces.

“Want to come over and make waffles?”

“I have to work today, princess,” I responded. “And I’m pretty sure you and your sister have school. Maybe I’ll come over tonight and we can make some pizza.”

“Pizza!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm. “And then watch a movie, too?”

“Of course, silly!”

I heard a shuffling inside my condo and looked over my shoulder to see a tall physique come into view. My eyes widening at his nakedness, I shot off the table, nearly spilling my M&M’s. “Gotta go! See you later, Drew. Love ya, Lis!”

I threw open the French doors and quickly ran inside.

“Hey, babe,” Kevin said, scratching himself as I hurriedly closed the blinds so as not to scar my niece for life. Hell, I was pretty sure the size of his junk had already scarred me for life. “What are you doing up so early? I didn’t even hear you get up.”

“I’ve been awake for a while.” I peeled my sweater off and slung it onto a chair as I walked through the cozy living area and into the kitchen. I checked the kettle, made sure there was enough water, then ignited the gas burner.

“Doing what?” He leaned his elbow on the quartz countertop. It was a little disconcerting how comfortable he looked roaming my apartment naked, his schlong blowing in the wind, so to speak.

“Not much,” I lied, pouring beans into the grinder and hitting the power button. I wasn’t the type of girl to spill her innermost secrets to the guy she was, as my brother put it, boinking. The details of my life were completely unrelated to Kevin’s ability to perform in the sack. He was a nice distraction and open to trying new things, which was extremely beneficial in my line of work, especially when working on the steamier parts of my books. Other than that, I didn’t feel much for him.

“You get up early a lot,” he practically shouted over the sound of the coffee beans being pulverized.

“Just working on stuff for the magazine.” Turning off the grinder, I avoided eye contact, measuring the coffee grounds into the French press.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his large biceps bulging. I hid my displeasure. Kevin was every woman’s fantasy. Toned muscles. Eight-pack abs. A few tasteful tattoos dotting his arms and shoulders. He just wasn’t my fantasy man. I liked my men a little squishy with some imperfections. However, beer bellies and nose hair didn’t sell books. People read to escape, not be reminded of their ordinary, mundane lives.

For the past several months, Kevin had been my unknowing muse for a handful of book boyfriends. It was a great arrangement, even if he remained unaware of the details. I used him as a source of inspiration to write my sizzling, ovary-combusting romances. In return, he had a girl who wouldn’t pester him to meet her family and hang out with her friends. Who wouldn’t stand in front of the mirror for hours asking him repeatedly if she looked fat. Who didn’t need to be wined and dined so he could get laid.

“Mols?” Kevin’s voice made me tear my eyes away from his chest. Meeting his gaze, a lascivious smile crossed his mouth, assuming he caught me ogling. “Did you hear me?”

“What was that?”

“I said…” He stepped toward me, resting his hands on my waist. His thumb strummed my hipbone.

A shiver rippled through my body. I mentally ran through some notes I had made about a few questionable positions. Tugging at my lower lip, I tried to remember which one I wanted to check next to make sure I got the blocking right.