Butterface

Dammit. Why did he have to do that? It was just disarming. Still she stuck to her guns. “Because you insulted my boyfriend.”

Paul cocked his head to one side and gave her an assessing look. “Is that what he is?”

“No.” Because as much as she’d like it to be true, she knew it couldn’t be. “But we’re something.”

“Is he good to you?” Paul’s face got a dark look to it that she’d never seen before but had heard people who’d crossed him whispering about.

“Yeah, he is.” Her heart did that fluttery thing again. “So why don’t you stop doing the overprotective thing? I can stand up for myself.”

“Old habits are hard to break.” He smiled ruefully. “Anyway, you know it’s just because we love you.”

Isn’t that what he and Rocco had always said when she’d come home, beat down after another day of being teased at school? At home with them, she was just Gina, their annoying little sister. She’d never told them the worst of it or how she’d gotten her nickname. Some humiliations couldn’t be avenged, not even by a pair of brothers willing to take on all comers.

“I love you too,” she said, giving her brother’s arm a squeeze. “But I’m not that girl barely making it through the school hallways without crying anymore.”

“Grandpa would be proud of you.” Paul looked over at the cantaloupe she and Ford had been checking out earlier. “He always told me and Rocco you’d be the one in the family to make the best choices. He wasn’t wrong. Look at you. I’m proud of you, sis.”

And this had officially gone to a place her conversations with Paul didn’t usually go. It made her stomach hurt. “Everything okay?”

“Always.” He smiled at her, and it almost reached his eyes. “Who knows, maybe Rocco and I are getting ready to follow in your footsteps.”

“You two want to be wedding planners?” She grinned. She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. “Or dating a cop?”

His laugh was all the answer she got, because that’s when they both spotted Ford coming their way with a blue carton of extra-large eggs. “Talk to you later, sis.”

“When are we going to have that bowling night?”

“How about Thursday? Bring your boy,” he said. “Rocco’ll be by before that, though. We’ve got a surprise for you.”

That did not bode well. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Not from us. Ours are always good.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “See ya, sis.”

Then he walked away, clearing the produce area before Ford made his way to her side.

“Everything okay?” Ford asked.

“Yeah, fine.” She watched the back of Paul’s head until he turned down the cereal aisle.

Something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She was rolling it over in her head when Ford handed her a cantaloupe with the worst thunk sound possible, and she turned her attention back to teaching him the correct cantaloupe tapping technique.

…

Losing had never been as hard as it was right now as Ford tossed his bright yellow bowling ball into the gutter with enough skill to make it look like an accident when it was anything but. Growing up Hartigan pretty much equalled competitive to a fault. However, if he wanted to make some sort of connection with his thick-necked opponents, kicking their asses wasn’t the way to make that happen.

“You’re so far back, Hartigan, that you need to go find you a St. Christopher’s medal,” Rocco said from his spot closest to the overflowing plate of nachos and pitcher of cheap beer.

“Stop trying to stir up shit,” Gina said as she walked up to the line, her hot pink ball at chin level, and chewed her bottom lip raw, staring at the pins at the end of the alley like this time she was going to get a strike. “Silence, please. I’m gonna do it this time.”

The woman had a lot of positives—the sweet curve of her ass, the sound of her laugh, the way her smile made her eyes twinkle—but amazing bowling skills weren’t among them. Gina was straight up awful. Her brothers were even worse. That meant that Ford was trying not to eat his tongue in an effort to play as badly as possible in order to not sop up the spilled beer on the floor with them.