Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

I shrug, pushing up off the lounger.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

I pause to give him a sour look over my shoulder. “I have to pee. Is that allowed?”

Jessica rolls her eyes at me, then walks back in to grab some chips or carrots or what-the-fuck-ever. Like I care if she likes me. If she wants to fuck him so badly, she should—maybe then he’ll let me go home. Or not. It would be horrifyingly funny if I had to share the man I don’t want, too. As I walk away, I have to laugh a little at the absurdity of my life.

When I get back from the bathroom, I realize we have company and my stomach sinks. It’s Rafe from next door. He’s dressed casually this evening in black swim shorts and a white t-shirt. He hasn’t seen me yet, and I don’t know why I care if he does, but I find myself straightening my bikini, standing a little taller. I still have no clothes. It doesn’t seem like I’m on the fast track to earning any—I’ve probably completely fucked any chance of getting my ring back, too. Goddamn it, I didn’t even think of that.

But Rafe’s here. He’s not Mateo, here to rescue me once and for all, but he is the closest to that I have right now. Last time I saw him he said he might consider helping me, so I need to make sure I talk to him alone before he leaves.

Maybe I could steal his phone and call Mateo myself. Of course, being a man with his own mysterious dealings, Rafe probably keeps his phone close. That’s probably not going to happen. Convincing him to help is probably my best bet. Morellis love to stick their necks out to help near-strangers, right?

Smiling a little at my own joke, I take a few slow steps closer.

Jessica is talking to him right now. I watch his face for signs of interest, but I don’t have long to look. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, he casually glances away from her and notices me. He nods at something she says, but his gaze wanders over my body, scantily clad in the tiny bikini Jessica picked out for me.

I slow to a stop near him, to say hi.

He speaks before I can say anything. “You should’ve worn this to make me breakfast.”

Jessica’s mouth closes and she looks a little put out. I can’t really blame her. She was literally still talking to him.

“Maybe next time,” I toss back, lightly.

Now he smiles, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe.”

“Okay then.” Jessica nods, accepting her dismissal, and walks away.

He doesn’t care, either. His slightly cocky smile makes my heart hurt. He reminds me so much of Mateo I just want to follow him around and bask in whatever it is he exudes.

We’re probably as alone as we will be now. Glancing over at Vince to see where he’s at, I consider mentioning that we still need to revisit what we last talked about, but I decide against it. Vince is too nearby, and Rafe just got here, so I’ll have time later. “Are you here for the cookout?” I ask instead.

“Cookout, pool, pretty ladies—this place has all the amenities.”

“You should see our house in Chicago. It has even more amenities. The company is significantly better, too. We don’t have a grotto, but we do have indoor and outdoor pools.”

“You’re really interested in me visiting Chicago, aren’t you?” he asks, amused.

I shrug. “I really need a ride.”

His gaze moves over me one more time. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

I move closer, glancing at Vince to make sure he’s still out of hearing range. “Have you heard anything? From Mateo, I mean? Or about him? Does he know anything yet?”

This seems to amuse him. “I’m not your personal informant, little one. You tried to run away and I brought you back. What makes you think I’m your friend?”

“I’m a good friend to have,” I inform him. “And Mateo’s a really good friend to have.”

Rafe shakes his head, smiling. “You’re a persistent little thing.”

“I’m desperate to get back to my family,” I state. “It’s not just Mateo. I have a stepdaughter, too. Isabella. I don’t know if you ever met her, but she lost her mother young and over the years I’ve become like a mother to her. If I never come home, she loses another one.”

“Do I seem like a sympathetic man to you?” he asks.

“I don’t know what kind of man you are,” I tell him, honestly. “But you remind me more of Mateo than anyone else here, and that makes me feel comfortable with you.”

He watches me for a moment, reading me, considering. Finally he nods toward the side of the house where Vince is grilling. “Go get me a drink.”