Rocco handed him a glass of what smelled like bourbon and delivered what probably looked like a friendly slap to Ford’s back that landed with enough force to leave a mark.
“I suppose you think you’re fooling people?” Rocco asked, the smile on his face not reaching the man’s eyes.
So that’s how this was gonna go, huh? Okay, he could play that game—especially if he could goad Rocco into revealing more than he wanted. After all, wasn’t that why he was here in the first place?
He gave Rocco his best you’re-full-of-shit-and-we-both-know-it smile. “I’d never expect to pull anything over on a guy like you.”
If the sarcasm landed, Rocco didn’t show it. “She’s too good for you.”
There was no need to ask who the she was because for once in his sorry, low-level-criminal life, Rocco was right about something. “I’m sure she is.”
“No, I mean it.” Rocco let the friendly veneer slide off his face. His eyes narrowed, his jaw squared, and an intense concern turned his already dark eyes to an almost black. “She’s got a good heart. People look at her and they make judgments. They always have. It’s not fair, but neither is life. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna let some pretty-boy organized crime detective just fuck with her head, though.”
And that accusation was way too close to the truth of how he’d ended up in her house to land without anything other than near-lethal force. Guilt burned like an iron poker pressed to his side. Ford’s cheeks hurt from holding the fake smile, and he had to consciously loosen his grip on the glass in his hand. Then, like an unexpected answer, he spotted Gina weaving her way through the crowd, a huge smile on her face that didn’t falter until she spotted him with her brother.
“Everything okay?” Gina asked when she got to them.
“It’s perfect, sis,” Rocco said. “Just having a little heart-to-heart with your boy.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she seemed to let it go. “You busy next Friday? It’s past time I kick your and Paul’s asses in bowling.”
Rocco’s gaze cut to Ford, the vein in his temple bulging. “Sorry, sis, we’re booked that night.” He kissed her cheek and started to walk away. “I’ve gotta go talk to Mikey. We’ll catch up soon.”
His trouble detector going crazy, Ford was ready to follow up with Rocco about what had him so busy that night when Ford’s phone started to vibrate in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, took one look at the number, and knew there was no way to blow off this call to question a guy who would never give him a straight answer anyway.
“I gotta take this,” he said, hating all the reminders he got about who he was and who she was any time they walked out of her house.
Her smile faded just the tiniest bit, and she seemed to curl into herself, drawing an invisible protective shell around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it.”
That wasn’t the way this was going to go. Dipping his head, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. It was a simple thing, easy, really, and it hit him like a Mack truck because when he lifted his head there was no missing the restored brightness of her smile that just made him want to kiss her again and again and again until it was the only kind of smile she ever had.
Before he could do that, though, he forced himself to walk toward the relative quiet of the front porch under the suspicious watch of her brothers, who stood next to their grandmother in the living room. No doubt his captain on the other end of his ringing phone would approve of the kiss as a way to solidify his cover story with her family.
Ford hadn’t kissed Gina because of that, though.
He’d done it because he couldn’t stand the truth that whatever was building between the two of them couldn’t happen because the real reason why he was in her house and in her life was always there, lurking in the background. The revelation had him swiping his thumb over his phone’s touchscreen with more force than necessary to answer the call.
“Give me a second,” he said as he stepped out on the porch and did a quick visual sweep to confirm he was alone out there. “I’m not at the best place where I can talk.”