Touch(43)

Anthony groaned. “Luca, come on.”



“Do or do not, Beav. But don’t waste my time.”



Luca had answered without looking back at Anthony. He was watching Manny come into the club. She’d obviously changed after work and was wearing one of her punk pixie getups—green plaid mini-skirt, like a tiny kilt, and a dark blue velvet corset thing with a black sheer top under it. Fishnets and tall, lace-up Docs. He thought maybe she had a different pair of Docs for every day of the week. Or maybe the month.



Some grubby asshole he didn’t know said something to her, and Luca immediately jumped out of the ring without another word to Anthony. But he stopped when she said something back and then, with a slow flourish, raised her middle finger at the guy. The guy laughed and bowed slightly, a gesture of defeat.



She’d been so young and vulnerable with him lately that he’d already forgotten how she presented herself to the world. The tough little shit with the sharp tongue she’d been at Carlo and Sabina’s wedding. He liked that little shit. He liked her softer, sweeter side, too, but he didn’t want to lose the tiny broad with the big mouth.



As they walked toward each other, Manny took in the whole of the Corner, her brilliant eyes wide.



“Hey, bit.” It was strange to be so glad to see her but not touch her at all—no hug, no kiss, no brush of his hand up her arm. All of which he wanted to do. Damn, he fucking dreamt about touching her.



“Hey. There’s no chicks in here at all.”



“Well, there’s one. You.”



“Yeah, but weird. Women don’t come here?”



“Not really, no.” Wives and girlfriends didn’t even spend much time here. And there were only two female members, both professional fighters.



“And it smells like a guy’s asshole.”



“You smell a lot of guys’ assholes?” He grinned. “Do I want to know the answer to that?”



“Fuck you, dork. You know what I meant.” She was grinning back, though, so she’d gotten that he was teasing. She didn’t always get the distinction, but she usually did. He was learning to think harder about how he said things. They’d only really met each other the week before, but she was already changing the way he saw things, thought about things.



“You’re early, and I gotta shower before I’m presentable. I don’t much like the thought of you hanging out in here unattended, though. Go on down the block and have a coffee or something.” Her eyes flashed hot at him, and he added the word that would chill them out. “Please.”



“Okay.” She nodded, and then she put her hands on his arm and lifted up on her tiptoes. Gooseflesh rose on his skin, under the pads of her fingers. He bent down, and she kissed his cheek.



“You look hot wearing nothing but shorts and those gloves.” She turned and flounced out, her little skirt swaying over slender, shapely legs he’d kill to get his hands around.



“That your girl?” Anthony was at his side.



Still getting his own head around his answer to that question, he hadn’t introduced her to anyone yet. He had not yet begun to consider how his family would react to a girl like Manny. There’d be trouble over it, he knew. His family would see Jenny, Carlo’s crazy ex-wife, in Manny as soon as they found out she was anything other than completely normal. Which was why he was ducking the thought.



But Saturday was the Fourth of July. So the time of ducking the thought was just about over. He was bringing her to the beach. In an ironic twist, considering how her folks were already in the know, she was meeting his family before he met hers.



“Yeah. That’s my girl.” That sounded strange—and it marked the first time he had ever in his life uttered the words ‘that’s my girl.’



Anthony whistled. “She’s hot. Tight little ass.”



Luca turned and slapped Anthony hard on his ear. As the kid yelled and grabbed his head, Luca snarled, “Learn some respect, asswipe.” And he stalked off to the locker room.



He had a date with his girl.



oOo



He opened the passenger door. “You ready?” Manny just sat there. “Come on, bit. It’s gonna be okay. If you need some quiet, you just say the word, and I’ll find you quiet.”



Her head turned like it was on a rusty pivot. Her eyes were huge and scared. Maybe she had trouble reading people, but she herself was an open book. “What word?”



“Hmm?”



“What word should I say?”



“It’s just an expression. Just let me know.”