Fallon was curled up next to Rafe, nestled into her designated spot in the crook of his shoulder. She’d only just drifted off, content to sleep in his arms in the same room with his loud, obnoxious brothers and his dad. They were more than a case of beer in between the four of them.
She just fit.
His dad walked out of the kitchen carrying the plate of leftover cold ravioli, and looked their way. Setting his plate down on his ratty old leather recliner, he picked up a throw blanket from the back of his chair and draped it over Fallon’s legs.
“Thanks, Pop,” Rafe whispered. His dad winked.
“Wahoo!” Tilly cheered as the fourth-quarter buzzer went off. Rafe and Sergio both shushed her. “Sorry,” she mouthed, looking at Fallon, who was out cold.
“All right, boys,” she said quietly, standing up from the couch. “Will you help me with dishes? Rafe, you’re off the hook.”
“Good win, babe,” Luca said, kissing the back of her head, then leaned down to whisper something in her ear that made her already rosy cheeks darken a shade before following her into the kitchen.
Rafe slowly lowered himself into the corner of the couch and lifted Fallon up onto his chest so he could slide his leg beneath her and rest her between his thighs. She stirred slightly, then pressed her cheek into his chest and sighed contentedly in her sleep.
Encasing her in his arms, he leaned his head against the armrest of the couch and closed his eyes.
She just fucking fit.
• • •
“Who the fuck drives a brand-new Jaguar?”
The front door banged against the wall as it thrust open, jerking Rafe from the half-awake, half-asleep limbo he’d fallen into. Fallon jolted up, startled, and Rafe leaned up, looking back toward the front door.
“Shit, Leo,” he barked. The living room had darkened and the light seeping in through the open front door was dim from the light blue of the night sky.
“Sorry, brother,” he slurred, staggering in and sitting down on the chair across from the couch.
“You’re fucking trashed.”
“Guilty,” he mumbled, lighting one of the cigarettes their dad had left on the side table.
Rafe’s little brother seemed to have the detonator switch with a direct line to piss Rafe the fuck off.
“Hey,” Fallon said, placing her hand on his knee. “I’m gonna go see where everyone went to and try to sneak some cake from Tilly.” Her plump, heart-shaped lips lifted into a confident smile. Rafe pulled her hand from his leg and pressed a light kiss to the inside of her palm.
“Thanks, babe.”
The smile still on her face, she moved the blanket from her legs. Her bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor and she stood.
“Da’am. That your Jag in the drive, baby?” Leo asked, pulling a drag from his cigarette.
Fallon nodded slowly, unaffected by Leo’s drunken antics and piss-poor flirting. “So you’re the baby of the family, huh?” she asked as she stepped in front of him. “Leo, right?”
He nodded his head back, the alcohol in his blood slowing his body down. “Yeah, baby. What’s your name?”
Rafe watched as Fallon’s demeanor shifted. Her spine straightened and her hip swung expertly out to the side, her curve-hugging, navy knit dress showing off her beautiful body—the control and dominance she possessed resurfacing.
She reached her hand out but remained far enough away so that Leo would have to stand in order to reach her—making him come to her. He slowly stumbled to his feet and stood uneasily in front of her, taking her hand in his.
She held his large hand firmly and met his eyes, as if prepared to strike.
“I’m Fallon.” She stepped toward him just enough to make Rafe tense, but not close enough that they were touching. “You know what a woman loves in a man, Leo? Confidence. But it walks a fine line with arrogance. And, baby, judging by the way you look right now, you’ve already crossed that line and moved on to asshole.” She dropped his hand. “Whatever woman is the reason for this”—she gestured at him with her hand—“just start with ‘sorry.’ It doesn’t hurt throwing in a compliment or two either.”
Leo stood gaping openmouthed as Fallon made her way through the living room and through the kitchen door. “Damn, Rafe. Did your woman seriously just call my ass out like that?”
Rafe nodded, slightly proud, slightly shocked, and slightly hard. “Yeah, she did. Better her than me because I would’ve drawn blood. Is that’s what’s going on with you, brother? This about a woman?”
Leo fell back into the chair, sagging against the worn cushion. “She like a mind reader or some shit?”