CHAPTER ELEVEN
Massimo
“What are you doing?” I asked when August started scooting his seat closer to me.
“Moving over so you can make moon eyes at Cammie,” he said.
It was the fourth time we would be meeting with Cammie at the coffee shop.
And everything in me said it was a risky move. There were eyes everywhere after all. But when she signed off her calls with a hopeful little, “Will I be seeing you at the coffee shop?” I couldn’t help but give in.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Now, you know it fucking kills me to say this,” Nino said, shooting me a raised brow look. “But I have to agree with August on this one.”
“What are you saying? My head isn’t in the game?”
“Oh, we know which head is in the game,” August mumbled, getting a shove from Nino.
“Oh, no. The boys are fighting,” Traveler said, coming over to drop off August’s coffee. Because he’d been a pain in the ass and ordered the most complicated drink I’d ever heard of just to piss her off. “What’s the matter? Not enough room at this little table for all your egos?”
“You know, sweet cheeks,” August said, having started using increasingly insulting pet names for her each time she happened by, “in this lighting, you can almost see the venom slipping off your fangs.”
Traveler, though, wasn’t as easy to bait as he was used to with the fiery-tempered women in our family.
Oh, no.
She appeared to have no reaction at all until she moved behind his chair and tracked her hand up the back of his head until she got a handful of his hair, then turned her fingers, and yanked hard until his head had no choice but to go back.
“Careful, sugar tits,” she said, voice honey-sweet, “it’s starting to sound like you’re just salty I won’t sink them into your neck,” she told him.
She didn’t just release him, either.
She pressed her hand against his scalp and shoved him forward, effectively spilling half of his pricy, complicated drink in the process.
“Oops. I guess you’ll have to pay for another,” she said, smirking at him before turning and walking away.
“I like her,” Nino declared, sipping his still-full coffee since the two of us had picked up our mugs.
“You would,” August grumbled, as he moved away from the table to go get some napkins.
It didn’t escape me, though, that his gaze kept flicking over toward Traveler as she helped a couple that had just walked in.
“See this shit?” he grumbled, returning with small tan rags. “Doesn’t even use regular napkins.”
“You just didn’t happen to read the various notes all around the shop that said she is striving to reduce the footprint of the coffee shop?” Nino asked.
It surprised me at times that Nino was still single.
Out of all of us, he was the most stable, the one who noticed shit and took care of shit. Like with Josie. She didn’t need to ask, he just cleaned the car or changed the oil. The kind of shit that a woman who was looking to be a wife would find appealing.
I’d never asked why he hadn’t settled down because that wasn’t the type of shit we typically discussed.
I guess maybe it was just a right woman sort of situation. Meaning the lack of one.
“So, what? She washes this shit every night?” August asked, tossing the wet fabric napkins into the spot designated for it, next to the mess station where the garbage and tub for the cups was located.
“Probably how it works,” Nino said. “It’s understandable how confusing it is seeing as Ma still does your laundry,” he added, smirking at the scathing look August sent him.