Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life 3)

I glance at the back door, wondering if I should look one more time before we leave for the night.

“It’ll be all right,” he says, placing his fingers under my chin so I’ll focus on him. “If you don’t catch it by tomorrow, I’ll call a friend of mine who does animal control for the city and have him come out to set a trap for you.”

“Really?” I ask, swaying into him. His face softens.

“Yeah, Princess.”

“Thank you.”

He touches his lips to my forehead, then lets my chin go.

“Come on. Let’s get our coats and go to your place.”

He places a hand on the small of my back and starts leading me toward the office.

Nervous butterflies fill my stomach as I put on my coat and grab my bag. I didn’t really have time to think about being alone with Antonio in my apartment earlier because of the distraction of work, the kitten, and then trying to come up with a way to tell Antonio about the shop. Now, with Antonio putting down the shutters and my place only a couple of blocks away, my mind is suddenly consumed by what could happen—and what I want to happen. I don’t know that I’m ready to have sex, but I’m for sure ready to spend a lot of time making out with him.

“How are your sisters?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts as we walk toward my apartment hand in hand.

“They’re good. Both of them have been pretty busy, so I haven’t seen either of them for a while.” I admit to myself that I’m a little upset about that.

“You guys are close, right?”

“There was a time when we were inseparable, but now I’m lucky to hear from them every other day,” I say, knowing that I probably sound bitter. “Don’t think I’m not happy for them—I am. I wish we could spend some time together.”

“Maybe you should make plans with them,” he says, giving my fingers a squeeze.

I shrug. “Maybe, but now that Fawn is married, I doubt she’ll want to go out at night. And now that Mac is pregnant, I doubt she’d be up to going.”

“What about lunch?”

“Maybe. Between my work most days at the salon, working on Designer Closet, and helping out at the pizzeria, my schedule is also kind of crazy right now.”

“Designer Closet?” he asks.

I pause to glance at him, realizing that I’ve never told him about my side business.

“I rent items from other people’s closets.”

“You rent items out of people’s closets?” he repeats.

I smile. He has the same look on his face that my dad had when I told him about my idea.

“Yeah. A designer dress can go for thousands of dollars, and most people can’t afford to spend that kind of money on a dress they’ll only wear once. That’s where I come in. Let’s say you have a ball to go to. You tell me your size, the kind of dress you’re looking for, and I will hook you up. You pay a fee to me, and I give a percentage to the owner of the dress.”

“Wow.” He looks impressed, and I grin at him. “If you’re too busy, you could always have your sisters stop by the shop. I’ll make you guys a pizza. You can spend some time with them there.”

“If Mac even catches a whiff of pizza, she’ll be ready to puke, so I don’t think that would go over too great with the other customers. But that’s sweet of you to offer,” I tell him as we head upstairs to my apartment. “Maybe I’ll see if they want to catch a movie one day next week.”

I let us into my place and turn on the light.

“My parents and I really appreciate you being at the shop and helping out, Princess, but the place won’t fall apart if you don’t come in every day,” he tells me as he sets down the pizza on the counter in the kitchen.

I take off my coat.

“I know . . . ,” I agree, turning away from him and thinking that this would be the perfect opening conversation for me to tell him why I’ve been working there so much.

“Fuck. If I didn’t have to be there, I wouldn’t be.”

At his words, my stomach knots. I start to open my mouth, but before I can, his big body is in front of mine. When I see the heat in his eyes, that knot in my stomach shifts to tingles dancing between my legs.

“I need to tell you something,” I say as he starts to shuffle me back toward the couch with his hands on my hips.

“Tell me.”

“The pizzeria. I—”

“We’re not talking about the pizzeria.” He cuts me off as my knees hit the couch cushions.

“Antonio.” I try again as he pushes me back.

I go down on the couch with him on top of me.