She opens her mouth to yell and snaps it shut, glaring at me. “You scared me on purpose?”

  I smile with a shrug, swinging my leg over the bike, and walk toward her. The front door opens, and Rosie’s demeanor immediately changes.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” a woman says, stepping outside. “Come inside and cool off.”

  I glance over, soaking in her grandmother’s presence. There’s no mistaking the shared genetics between the two, and if her grandma is an indicator, Rosie will never lose her looks.

  “Behave in there,” Rosie warns me and starts to walk toward the house, but I grab her hand, tangling our fingers together.

  She’s still pissed about the ride, but after a minute, her hand relaxes and the hand-holding isn’t forced.

  “I’m not an animal, Ro. Your grandparents will love me.”

  She peers over, giving me a slow blink. “Don’t mention my father’s name. They adore him, and you…well, you know.”

  “I won’t mention that he’s an asshole.”

  Rosie squeezes my fingers tightly. “I’m serious.”

  “Me too.”

  “Wait.” Her grandmother holds out a hand before we make it onto the first step. “Let me get a good look at the two of you.” She smiles, her eyes wandering over her granddaughter and then moving on to me. “Damn, kids. You’re both stunning. A total power couple.”

  “Gram, we’re only friends.”

  Her gaze drops to our hands. “Only friends, huh?”

  Rosie nods. “I need help in these heels. You know how clumsy I am.”

  “Mm-hmm,” her grandmother mutters, giving her a wink as we make it to the top of the steps. “Whatever lie you need to tell yourself, baby.”

  I hold in my laugh so as not to offend either of them. I love to annoy Rosie, but I’m not sure how far I can push things with her grandmother yet. “I’m Dylan, ma’am.” I hold out my hand, waiting for her to take it when we’re in front of her.

  To my surprise, she doesn’t take it. Instead, she steps forward, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me tight. “We hug in this family, Dylan.”

  The embrace feels nicer than I could have imagined. There’s a sweet gentleness to the way she touches me, resting her head just below my chest due to her height. This is something I missed out on as a child after my father was disowned by his entire family, along with us.

  “Wait until Fran sees you,” she tells me, peering up at me as she releases me and steps away.

  “We won’t have to worry about that,” Rosie replies, earning a look from her grandmother and me. “She’s never going to lay eyes or hands on him.”

  Grandma Gallo stares at her granddaughter with one eyebrow raised. “We’ll talk about that later, sweetie. Now, Mr. Dylan, are you handy?”

  “I’ll give whatever you need my best shot, Mrs. Gallo.”

  “Grandma,” she corrects me with the sweetest smile.

  Damn it.

  My heart flutters at the thought. People take their grandparents for granted and don’t realize how lucky they are to have caring elders in their life. I had one person, and he was a complete and utter asshole.

  “Lead the way,” I say, unable to call her “Grandma.”

  She’s not mine, but she is Rosie’s, and I’m not going to let myself buy into the lie of calling her something she isn’t to me.

  Mrs. Gallo walks into the house, and I motion for Rosie to go in front of me, liking the view of her ass more than anything else. Especially in her high heels. She sways her hips with every step, calling to my primal need, and the memories of her riding me through my jeans come rushing back.

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” her grandmother mutters, hurrying to the ladder where her grandfather is perched high above the foyer tile. “Damn it, Sal. Get down.” She turns to us, forcing a smile. “I’ve told him ten times, but men can be impatient, especially the older they get. No offense.”

  I give her a quick smile before rushing toward the ladder and grabbing the chandelier from his hands before either he falls or the new light does. One of them isn’t going to make it down in one piece if I don’t take it from his hands.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he tells her, taking each rung on the ladder very slowly and finally holding on to the sides with both hands.

  “Grandpa, what in the hell were you thinking?” Rosie asks him before his feet even touch the floor.

  He turns to her, his eyes lighting up when his gaze lands on her. “Rosie, baby, I’ve changed more lights than the years you’ve been alive. I could’ve handled it and survived.”

  “With broken bones,” Rosie tells him as she wraps her arms around the old man. “I’d like you around for a while longer.”

  “I don’t have any plans to go anywhere, doll, but based off the looks of you—” he backs away, soaking her in “—I’d say we interrupted yours.”

  “Nah. Nothing big,” she says, smiling.

  He peers over at me, holding the light, wearing the best clothes I have to my name. “No man wears a tie unless it’s a date, love. You should’ve told us you were busy.”

  “It’s really no problem,” I tell him and move past him toward the ladder. “I can do this in a few minutes.”

  “You’ll stay for dinner, though, right?” Rosie’s grandmother asks. “No need to go to a restaurant.”

  “Marie,” he warns her. “Let the kids go out and have fun.”

  “We’ll stay,” Rosie offers, and I’m not the least bit mad either.

  I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in months, and that wasn’t anything more than a piece of chicken and some vegetables. Based on the smell, something a helluva lot better is cooking in this house.

  “Dylan, do you like sausage and peppers?”

  My stomach instantly rumbles, giving away my answer before I can say a word.

  Mrs. Gallo laughs. “I make the best you’ll ever have. I even have tiramisu for dessert.”

  “Tirami-what?” I ask as I start to climb upward, careful to hang on to the chandelier.

  I take a moment to look around from my high vantage point. The house is pristine and palatial. Nothing like anything I’ve ever been in before. They don’t have working-class money, but the big bucks. I knew Rosie’s parents weren’t poor like my old man, but I never thought her family was dripping with cash.

  Her grandmother gasps, and I glance down, thinking I’ve done something wrong. “You’ve never had tiramisu?”

  I take a deep breath and continue up until I’m within arm’s reach of the hole in the ceiling. “No, ma’am.”

  “It’s decadent. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like putting a spoonful of heaven in your mouth.”

  “She thinks everything she makes is heaven in your mouth,” her husband says.

  “Is it true?” I ask, balancing carefully and letting go of the ladder so I can use both hands to hook up the new light fixture.

  “Sure is,” Rosie answers. “Gram makes the best of everything.”

  “You’re more than welcome to come back for dinner tomorrow. We always have plenty of food, and it’s a big spread.”

  “Gram!” Rosie gasps. “You can’t just invite Dylan to family dinner.”

  “Why not?” her grandmother asks.

  I concentrate on the light, letting them hash it out. All I know is I’m falling in love with her grandmother, but Rosie isn’t exactly happy about the invitation for her Sunday family dinner. I don’t want to get into why it isn’t a good idea. Joe is her son, and I’d never say anything bad about him in front of her. I am an asshole just like him, but I know when to keep my mouth shut and when to let the shit fly.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, Gram,” Rosie says.

  “So? You’ve all brought friends before. What’s the difference?”

  This should be interesting. I keep working on the light, but I want to pay extra attention to the way Rosie answers this question.

  “He doesn’t get along with Dad.”

  I peer down, meeting her grandmother’s eyes for a second. “He doesn’t get along with your father, or your father doesn’t get along with him?”

  Here we go.

  All aboard the clusterfuck train. I am about to lose that home-cooked meal of sausage and peppers along with tirami-whatever.

  Damn.

  “Do you know about the family living behind Mom and Dad’s? The Walshes?”

  “Your dad never liked that man. He was awful to his children.”

  Rosie glances up at me and grimaces before she says, “That’s Dylan Walsh.”

  “Okay,” Mrs. Gallo says.

  “I’m not following here, kid,” her grandfather adds. “He’s not his old man.”

  “Well, Dad doesn’t like Dylan either. He doesn’t like anyone in the family.”

  “Oh lord,” her grandmother mutters. “I thought I taught that boy better than that.”

  “Dylan left home more than fifteen years ago, but Dad still hates him. The other day, Dylan saved me from a sticky situation, and instead of being grateful, Dad had a bunch of horrible things to say about him.”

  I glance down, seeing her grandmother shaking her head and making a tsking sound. “Your father should be grateful that you had a man around to get you out of whatever that sticky situation was. And no man should be judged by his father.”

  “I wasn’t the best teenager, ma’am,” I add because I know I was an asshole. I had too many hormones and more anger than I knew what to do with. It took me a lot of years to move on from that bullshit and understand it wasn’t my fault and I could determine my own fate.

  “Grandma,” she tells me again. “Family or not, it’s my preference. Ma’am is for strangers.”

  “Yes, Grandma,” I reply, the word sounding so foreign on my tongue.

  “Thank you,” she says with the biggest smile, and goddamn it if the simple look doesn’t make me feel all the warm and fuzzy bullshit I’ve avoided my entire life. “Her father was something else when he was young. He forgets about his days before he settled down. I know more than a few people who thought he was an asshole too. A different type of asshole from your father, but still an asshole. Probably the same type of asshole you may be now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a good and honorable man.”

  I seriously love this woman. The way she can so easily throw around profanity and somehow make it sound normal coming from her lips is astounding.

  “He didn’t get the asshole from me,” her husband says, holding up his hands. “He got that part of him from your side of the family.”

  Her eyes slice to her husband, and her hands move to her hips as she drops one shoulder. “Why are you trying my patience tonight, Sal?”

  He walks toward her, sliding his arm around her middle, and hauls her against him. “Darling, you never liked easy.”

  She stares at him, her body melting into his as they stare into each other’s eyes. “You’re impossible.”

  “You love me,” he tells her, and it’s not a question.

  “Sometimes,” she whispers.

  “You love me,” he repeats.

  I’ve never seen a relationship like theirs. They’ve shown more love and caring toward each other in a few minutes than most men show their wives in the years I’ve been around them. I want what they have. I want something that endures decades.

  “Almost done?” Rosie asks as I stare at her grandparents, still balancing on the ladder with the light.

  “Can you hand me the drill, Ro?”

  She nods, carefully bending over to retrieve the power drill. There’s a smile on her face when she hands it off to me. “Who knew you had skills.”

  “You have no idea,” I tell her with a wink before taking the drill from her hands as she stands on her tiptoes to give it to me.

  Rosie blushes and bites the corner of her lip, making my knees a little weak with all my dirty thoughts.

  I push the images from my mind, knowing this isn’t the place or time to have them, and I get back to work. Within minutes, the light is secured and ready to go.

  “Give it a try,” I tell her grandmother, staying up near the light in case I fucked shit up.

  She flips the switch and claps as the foyer fills with light. “Well done, Dylan,” she says.

  “What’s that?” Rosie’s grandfather asks, and I glance down, finding him close to her face, zeroing in on the remnants of her bruise.

  “Nothing,” Rosie says, turning her head.

  Her grandfather gently takes her face in his hands, moving her injured side back to the light. “What happened? Who did this?”

  Her grandmother walks over, gasping when she notices the purple underneath Rosie’s makeup.

  I hold my breath, worried they’ll think somehow I was involved in putting that mark on her skin.

  “That was the sticky situation Dylan rescued me from,” Rosie answers, pulling her face away from his hands.

  “Did a woman do that?” he asks Rosie.

  Rosie shakes her head. “No, but I don’t know who he was either. He was messing with Luna, and I tried to stop him.”

  “You’re a good sister, Rosie.” Her grandfather peers up at me, murder in his eyes. “I hope he looked worse than her.”

  “Made sure of it, sir,” I say, climbing down the rungs of the ladder, thankful I’m not going to get blamed for shit I didn’t do.

  When my boots touch the tile, he places his hand on my shoulder, tightening his grip. “I can never thank you enough for stepping in and saving our girl.”

  “It was nothing.”

  His fingers tighten even more but not to an uncomfortable level. He’s trying to keep me in place and keep my full attention. “It’s not nothing. It was honorable and good. Men are pussies today. The fact that you stepped in and put him in his place speaks volumes about you as a person.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, son, thank you,” he says softly with a smile on his face.

  Rosie’s grandmother moves across the small space to stand next to her husband. “The least I can do is feed you, for your help tonight and for saving our baby.”

  My smile is easy because they’re solid human beings. “I’ll never turn down a meal.”

  Good people like Rosie don’t just happen. She’s a product of her environment…goodness is ingrained in her. My biggest fear is no matter how hard I try or how good I am, I’ll always be a product of mine.

  “Sal, get the man a beer, and I’ll grab the food,” Mrs. Gallo says, brushing her fingertips against her husband’s cheek in a sweet and loving manner. “We’re going to talk about how to handle our troublemaker son and get him to see the man who’s in front of us now and not a memory of the man he’s never been.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Rosie mutters. “I don’t think that’s a good—”

  Her grandmother looks over her shoulder. “You like this boy?”

  I hold in my laughter. Boy. I’m thirty-five. I haven’t been a boy in a long time, but I don’t dare say anything. I assume if I ever make it to their age, everyone will look like a kid to me.

  Rosie’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as her grandmother watches her closely.

  “Yeah, you like this boy,” Mrs. Gallo says before turning back to me. “You don’t worry about my son. In this family, I’m the boss. If I say you’re good people, then you’re good people. He acts all big and bad, but he’s a momma’s boy and will never cross me. You let me handle him, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say softly, ready to watch the wild ride of how Joseph “Asshole” Gallo is about to be put in his place by his momma.

  I want Rosie more than anything, but watching her father get schooled by his mom makes it all that much sweeter.

  “I have no doubt you’re the boss, ma’am,” I tell her and earn myself a raised eyebrow and cocked head. “Grandma.”

  “Better.” She nods and relaxes. “Come on. I don’t want to burn the food. Rosie, get your man and take him to the table, and Sal, grab him a drink.”

  And just like that, I have an in.

  15

  Rosie

  The apartment is dark when we get back from my grandparents’. Luna texted me earlier, saying she would be out for the night and that I should take full advantage of the alone time with Dylan.

  Dylan’s kicked off his boots and has made himself at home on my couch, watching me as I move around the kitchen and waste time. My stomach flips every time I glance his way and find him studying me with a sinful smile.

  Shit. I did my best not to like the guy. I made it clear the first time I saw him at the restaurant after I was ditched that there was no place for him in my life. I backed up that story more than once, but now I’m faltering.

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way he kissed me and the orgasm he gave me, even if I was the one riding him. He didn’t make me feel stupid or ridiculous and has been nothing but kind…nothing like I expected him to be.

  I pour a glass of wine, chugging it down quickly before refilling my glass and one for him. I want him, but I need a little liquid courage to stop from losing my nerve about going further than we did the other day.

  “You going to keep stallin’, or are you going to come over here and give me those lips, wildcat?”

  I stop moving. My heart is thundering, and my breath catches in my chest. “I’m not stalling,” I tell him. I shake off my nerves, grab the two glasses, and make my way toward Dylan. “I thought you’d like something to drink.”

  He takes the wineglasses from my hands and places them on the coffee table. My feet come out from under me, and my stomach plummets as I’m pulled forward.

  Not only am I falling into him, but my heart is falling for him too. This is all happening way too fast, but I can’t stop myself from feeling all the feelings he stirs inside me.

  I adjust my body as if we’ve done this a million times instead of for just the second time. My entire field of vision fills with Dylan Walsh. Shades of blond, brown, and red cover his face and head, framing his soft lips as they turn up in satisfaction. His deep green eyes are brimming with emotion and hunger. Hunger aimed toward me, causing my belly to flutter again.