“Okay, so you’re saying that kidnapping him and forcing him to make pizzas at our request wouldn’t be easy.”
“Not at all, Bella.”
“Alright, then. I miss Ma’s cooking.”
“I miss your cooking.”
I roll my eyes, pressing the cornbread to the tip of my tongue. “This is Jiffy cornbread, with a little extra sugar. I can live with this.” I cut the piece in half since the crappy diner gave us one. Go figure.
“Now, Santino, back to your lying.”
“C’mon, you can cook. Give yourself credit.” Santino pops his entire piece into his mouth. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I miss your cooking. Those tacos.”
I pinch off a crumb and chew, not in an attempt to be cute. I miss my size 14 pants! Cracking my knuckles, I contemplate the best comeback. “Santino, I miss your French toast.”
“I did my best with the resources we had at the cabin, sweet tart!” He climbs on top of me, calling me all kinds of crazy in Italian. And just like day one, he has the nerve to sound so good.
“You know I understand you, right?”
“What are you gonna do about it, Bella?”
I lock my foot around him then scoff. “Damn it, Dirty Santa. That whole stripper move transpired perfectly in my head.”
54
Santino
“I’m not teaching you how to flip me, Gina.” I laugh, looking down at my woman. “You don’t need to dance. Just shake that ass, baby.”
“So, you’re saying Ican’tdance?” Her mouth tenses in defiance.
Yes.“No, Bella. You can back it up.” I cup her face in my hands, bruising her lips in a furious kiss.
Gina’s mouth melts into me. Scoffing, she squirms beneath me. “I think you’re weaseling out of that one by repeatedly mentioning my ass. Excuse me for growing up with three Brittanys and two Ashleys. How did you get into stripping; anyway? I’ve visited a few strip clubs—female dancers.”
“What were . . .” My eyebrow lifts.
“Business deals,” she grins, popping my arms. “Don’t get any bright ideas. I actually assisted a nightclub owner with rebranding; and he thought I’d want to meet him at the stripper joint he also owned. But the only male strippers I’ve ever seen were named Chip and Dale.”
I get comfortable on my side and have to trap Gina from sliding off the opposite side of the bed. Pawing her hip, I ask, “NoMagic Mike?”
“Nope. I prefer action movies. But back to you.”
“As you know, I wasn’t always the good guy. But making my money has always been a way of life for me,” I reply, dropping a kiss on Gina’s shoulder. “Half a year after I decided to straighten up and fly right for Little Antonia, I almost went back to my old habits.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Gina murmurs.
“You and me both. Carlos was discussing his new company with another construction worker—said the guy had the look, fit the bill. Unfortunately, for him, he couldn’t dance. When I heard how much the dancers made, I offered my services. There are a lot of different guys on the team at The Pipeline. Married, single, college bound, one dude needing parts for his Harley.”
Gina laughs softly. “And you? How’d you learn to dance?”
“YouTube.”
Her pretty lashes flutter.
“Seriously, Gina, YouTube. With money as a motivating factor, I learned all I need to know. Also, I had another asset on my side. I doubt you’d like to hear it.”
Chewing her lip, she waits a few beats. “What?”