Rooted (Pagano Family #3)(31)
At that, he let go of the shirt, shook her hands away, and clutched her face. Then he kissed her so hard he stole her breath.
He broke away with a groan. “Christ. We should get out of here. You need to recover, and I’m about not to let you.”
oOo
Only Jordan was in the kitchen. He’d brewed coffee and laid out a pretty table, with linens and china, arranging the various lovely baked treats on a gold-edged platter.
“Where’s Eli?” Theo asked, as he and Carmen sat down at the table.
“Love was in the air last night. He and Rosa made the beast with two backs, too, I assume. He stayed over with her.” Jordan handed Carmen a dainty coffee cup on a saucer. He winked. “Morning, tiger. Cream?”
And that pretty much settled Carmen’s incipient wondering about when Jordan had gotten back and how much he’d heard. Oh, well. She grinned. She did like this kid. “Yes, please. Rawr.”
Jordan giggled maniacally and handed her the cream in a little pitcher.
Theo had apparently missed that exchange. As he plated some kind of fluffy, glazed confection, he asked, “They dumped you? You okay with that?”
Jordan sighed loudly. “Dad. I have been the matchmaker in all of this, have I not? We had a ball, and then when it was bedtime, they dropped me off here and went on their merry. Rosa danced with me more than Eli, since he is such a guy and afraid being smooth on the dance floor tarnishes his guyness. He only danced when it was a slow song and he could feel her up.” He glanced at Carmen. “Excuse my bluntness. Should I have been discreet there? I hate discreet.”
Carmen shrugged. “Hey, if Rosie wants to get felt up, who’m I to stop her?”
Jordan slid gracefully into the seat next to her. “I so agree.” He eyed her neck and then smirked with devilish delight. “Hey, Carm? You’ve got a little something…” He brushed a finger down the side of his neck and giggled again.
That one, Theo caught. “Jordan. Manners.”
But Carmen just grinned. No way she could hide it, so she might as well own it. “You think anyone will notice?”
“Absolutely not. Just a wee little thing it is. Like a beauty mark. Très petite. Très élégante.”
Yeah, she liked him.
oOo
“Rosie. Put the phone away. Seriously. I’m going to throw that damn thing in the Thames if I see it again.”
“God, Carm. Bitch alert! I’m a grownup. I’ll be on my phone if I want to!” But she’d put her phone in her bag as she ranted. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t let them come.”
They were spending just over a week in the UK, just the two of them. They’d done a few days in Ireland, another couple in Scotland, the weekend on the Devon coast, and now they had two days in London. They were leaving for Paris the next day.
After more than two weeks of near-constant companionship from the Wilde men, Carmen was starting to freak out. She and Rosa had already planned this trip—they had weeks in Italy and in and around Germany coming up, too—and she thought it was a damn fine thing to get some distance between them and Theo and Eli.
Jordan had returned to the States not much more than a week after they’d all met, according to his original plan. Carmen and Rosa had both been sorry to see him go, but he had things he wanted to do at home this summer, with his friends. Eli had changed his plans and was staying through the summer.
Without Jordan, the couple-ness of the group had intensified markedly, and right away. During that week between Jordan leaving and Carmen and Rosa catching the train to Dublin, Eli had basically lived in the flat on Rue de la Lavande, and Carmen and Theo, staying in Hunter Anders’ apartment, had barely bothered to dress.
Things between them were much too intense. Much too good. The kind of good that could make Carmen forget important things, no matter what dangled from Theo’s neck.
So when he’d asked if he and Eli could join them in the UK, she had said unequivocally no. This trip was supposed to be about Rosa, urging her to come into her own, to break free of her home habits. Getting wrapped up quickly with a guy and burning hot, fast, and out was one of her worst home habits. One Carmen was afraid she’d picked up now, as well.
Rosa had pouted on the train, but she’d loved Ireland, and the men of Ireland loved her, so she’d perked up quickly, did her flirty woo-hoo girl routine with some handsome Celts each evening in the pubs, and they’d had a nice time. It wasn’t until their last night in Devon, when she’d been texting with Eli in the hotel—something they’d done every evening—that her mood turned, and when it did, it turned sharply. Carmen had been dragging a petulant teenager around London.
Carmen had made a point not to be in excessive contact with Theo. They’d had three extended text chats since he and Eli had seen them off at the Gare du Nord. Otherwise, she’d sent a few photos. She’d ignored a few texts, too. She needed distance.
Apparently, Eli was cooling on Rosa during this week away. She hadn’t said as much; she wouldn’t talk about Eli at all except to whine that he and his father weren’t with them, but her foul mood, Carmen thought, spoke volumes.
But she was sick and tired of the ‘tude. On their way back to the river taxi from the Tower of London, walking past the Tower Bridge, Rosa started to stomp off ahead, and Carmen grabbed her arm. “Stop, sis. Enough. Let’s find a chip shop or whatever they call them and have some dinner and just talk. We’re in Europe. We should be having a good time, and right now, neither of us are.”