Tossed Into Love
Page 8
“Yes, but first I need to know that you forgive me for being a dick.”
“I forgive you,” I say immediately, hoping that will make him go away.
My eyes fly up to meet his when his fingers wrap around my chin.
“I’m really sorry,” he repeats.
I swallow over the sudden lump that has formed in my throat.
“Okay.”
“Do you forgive me?”
Looking into his eyes and seeing regret there, I pull in a deep breath and let it out while nodding.
“Can I hear you say it?” he asks softly.
“I forgive you,” I whisper.
His fingers touch my jaw while his thumb sweeps across my bottom lip so lightly that I wonder if I imagine it. He steps back.
“Have a good day at work, Princess.” He steps into the road and raises an arm. A cab pulls up and parks at the curb. He opens the door for me, and I slide into the back seat without looking at him again as he slams the door behind me.
“Where to?” the cab driver asks.
I give him the address to the salon as I turn to look over my shoulder at Antonio. He’s standing with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, his eyes on my cab.
Do you have plans tomorrow night?
Looking at the text from Palo as I stand in the office at Tony’s, I wonder exactly how I should answer his question. There are times he will have a client come in and ask if someone can do their hair or makeup for an event. So it could be that, but it could also be something else.
Maybe . . .
I type back and press “Send.”
I’m taking that as a no, which means you’re going out on a date tomorrow night. I think I met the perfect guy for you.
Fricking great.
Palo, do I really need to remind you of the last five dates you’ve set me up on?
No, and this guy is different.
How is he different?
He’s young, he has manners, and he’s RICH.
I sigh out loud as I type.
I don’t care about money, Palo.
Every woman cares about money, Libby.
He’s wrong. I don’t care about money. I never have. Yes, I like nice things like most women do, but I don’t need them. My parents were not rolling in it when I was growing up, but we were always happy. I grew up in a house full of laughter and love, which I know is way more important than material things.
Palo . . .
I leave just his name, thinking that says it all. It really does.
Please? For me? Just this one last time. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t ever set you up again.
Yeah, right. Like I believe that for one second.
Gahhhh! Fine.
I drop my cell phone into my purse, then turn and leave the office.
“What’s going on with you?” Peggy asks as soon as she sees me. I wonder if it’s that obvious that I’m annoyed.
“I have a date tomorrow night,” I tell her, sounding as annoyed as I feel about the idea.
She looks at me, then looks over my shoulder. I watch a knowing smile form on her lips. Wondering what that’s about, I look behind me. My lungs freeze when I realize that Antonio is standing close enough that he probably heard me say I have a date.
“A date! That’s nice. Who is the guy?” Peggy questions.
I look at her, wishing the ground would fall out from under me and swallow me whole.
“I . . . I . . . don’t know. It’s a blind date.”
“Oh, those are always fun. The mystery, the excitement . . . ,” she says wistfully.
Yes, I really wish the ground would swallow me whole.
“Anyway”—she claps her hands so loud that I almost jump out of my skin—“time to get back to work.”
“Right,” I whisper before I scurry though the half door into the back of the shop, then through the swinging door into the kitchen.
I need to get away from everyone. I start to busy myself with washing the overly large metal bowls, utensils, and pots that are all sitting in the sink. Since the pot is almost as big as I am, I leave it for last. I turn to look over my shoulder when I hear Antonio’s deep laughter behind me.
I can see him though the small crack in the door that leads to the front of the shop, standing at the counter. I watch a cute woman with short blonde hair lean across the counter toward him. My stomach drops, then sinks even lower when I see her grab a pen from the jar next to the register, take his hand, and write down what I’m guessing is her number on his open palm.
Turning away, I grit my teeth. It should not bother me that he just got a woman’s number. It shouldn’t bother me at all—but it still does. Finished with all the other dishes, I drop the pot in the sink and scrub it hard, until my arm hurts. I pull in one deep breath after another, trying to get my confused emotions under control. I wish I didn’t have a crush on Antonio, that I could hate him like I say I do. I wish I didn’t have to see his handsome face, didn’t have to hear his deep voice, and I especially wish I didn’t have to see him flirting with women. Okay, so I haven’t really seen him flirt with women, but I have definitely seen women flirt with him, which is just as annoying.
“What did you do for Christmas?” Peggy breaks into my thoughts.
I pull my eyes off the pot I’m scrubbing and look at her.
“I went to Long Island to spend time with my parents for a couple days. What about you?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Hector has a huge family, and they all came over to the house for dinner on Christmas Eve. Then, on Christmas Day, we all went to his parents’ house, opened gifts, and the kids and the guys all went to the park to play football while the wives cooked.”
“That sounds like fun.” I smile at her.
“It was.” She smiles back, wiping down counters that don’t really need to be wiped down. “I was an only child. Hector has three brothers and six sisters, so it’s always loud and crazy, but it’s nice.”
“It sounds nice,” I say.
Her eyes study me for a long time—so long that I start to feel awkward.
“Don’t let it get to you, honey,” she says softly. My heart thumps hard. “That was just his reaction to learning you have a date.”
“What?” I breathe.
She gets close to me and drops her voice.
“Men are sometimes complete idiots. Men see something they want, but they don’t go after it because they think it will always be there waiting for them until they’re finally ready to make a move. You just showed Antonio that you’re not waiting,” she says, freaking me the heck out.
“I think—” I start to tell her that she’s got it all wrong, but she doesn’t let me finish.
“Don’t.” She shakes her head. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I see it. I see it when he looks at you. I see it when you look at him. One day one of you is going to break, and I imagine that day is going to be soon. He did not like hearing that you have plans with another man. I don’t know what his holdup is, but I imagine it has something to do with the woman that came before you.”
Okay, I was freaked out before, but now I’m totally freaked out.
Is she right? Does Antonio like me? Am I that transparent when it comes to my feelings for him?
“Go on your date. Have fun, flirt, and pray to god that that boy finally pulls his head out of his ass like his mama has been telling him to do for years now.”
Oh my god.
“Peggy, I hate to tell you this. As much as I love Martina and hate killing her dream, you both have to know that he can barely stand me. I actually think he might even hate me,” I tell her.
She starts laughing so hard she doubles over from the effort.
I stare at her. “This isn’t funny.”
“It is.” She sobers up and grabs hold of my arm. “Honey, that boy does not hate you.”
“He does.”
“He might wish he could, but he does not hate you any more than I hate ice cream with chocolate syrup, rainy days at home with my family, sunsets at the beach, and the man I love giving me everything I want.”
Heart pounding hard, I beg for oxygen to fill my lungs. The idea that she could be right is almost too much for me to handle.
“I forgive you,” I say immediately, hoping that will make him go away.
My eyes fly up to meet his when his fingers wrap around my chin.
“I’m really sorry,” he repeats.
I swallow over the sudden lump that has formed in my throat.
“Okay.”
“Do you forgive me?”
Looking into his eyes and seeing regret there, I pull in a deep breath and let it out while nodding.
“Can I hear you say it?” he asks softly.
“I forgive you,” I whisper.
His fingers touch my jaw while his thumb sweeps across my bottom lip so lightly that I wonder if I imagine it. He steps back.
“Have a good day at work, Princess.” He steps into the road and raises an arm. A cab pulls up and parks at the curb. He opens the door for me, and I slide into the back seat without looking at him again as he slams the door behind me.
“Where to?” the cab driver asks.
I give him the address to the salon as I turn to look over my shoulder at Antonio. He’s standing with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, his eyes on my cab.
Do you have plans tomorrow night?
Looking at the text from Palo as I stand in the office at Tony’s, I wonder exactly how I should answer his question. There are times he will have a client come in and ask if someone can do their hair or makeup for an event. So it could be that, but it could also be something else.
Maybe . . .
I type back and press “Send.”
I’m taking that as a no, which means you’re going out on a date tomorrow night. I think I met the perfect guy for you.
Fricking great.
Palo, do I really need to remind you of the last five dates you’ve set me up on?
No, and this guy is different.
How is he different?
He’s young, he has manners, and he’s RICH.
I sigh out loud as I type.
I don’t care about money, Palo.
Every woman cares about money, Libby.
He’s wrong. I don’t care about money. I never have. Yes, I like nice things like most women do, but I don’t need them. My parents were not rolling in it when I was growing up, but we were always happy. I grew up in a house full of laughter and love, which I know is way more important than material things.
Palo . . .
I leave just his name, thinking that says it all. It really does.
Please? For me? Just this one last time. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t ever set you up again.
Yeah, right. Like I believe that for one second.
Gahhhh! Fine.
I drop my cell phone into my purse, then turn and leave the office.
“What’s going on with you?” Peggy asks as soon as she sees me. I wonder if it’s that obvious that I’m annoyed.
“I have a date tomorrow night,” I tell her, sounding as annoyed as I feel about the idea.
She looks at me, then looks over my shoulder. I watch a knowing smile form on her lips. Wondering what that’s about, I look behind me. My lungs freeze when I realize that Antonio is standing close enough that he probably heard me say I have a date.
“A date! That’s nice. Who is the guy?” Peggy questions.
I look at her, wishing the ground would fall out from under me and swallow me whole.
“I . . . I . . . don’t know. It’s a blind date.”
“Oh, those are always fun. The mystery, the excitement . . . ,” she says wistfully.
Yes, I really wish the ground would swallow me whole.
“Anyway”—she claps her hands so loud that I almost jump out of my skin—“time to get back to work.”
“Right,” I whisper before I scurry though the half door into the back of the shop, then through the swinging door into the kitchen.
I need to get away from everyone. I start to busy myself with washing the overly large metal bowls, utensils, and pots that are all sitting in the sink. Since the pot is almost as big as I am, I leave it for last. I turn to look over my shoulder when I hear Antonio’s deep laughter behind me.
I can see him though the small crack in the door that leads to the front of the shop, standing at the counter. I watch a cute woman with short blonde hair lean across the counter toward him. My stomach drops, then sinks even lower when I see her grab a pen from the jar next to the register, take his hand, and write down what I’m guessing is her number on his open palm.
Turning away, I grit my teeth. It should not bother me that he just got a woman’s number. It shouldn’t bother me at all—but it still does. Finished with all the other dishes, I drop the pot in the sink and scrub it hard, until my arm hurts. I pull in one deep breath after another, trying to get my confused emotions under control. I wish I didn’t have a crush on Antonio, that I could hate him like I say I do. I wish I didn’t have to see his handsome face, didn’t have to hear his deep voice, and I especially wish I didn’t have to see him flirting with women. Okay, so I haven’t really seen him flirt with women, but I have definitely seen women flirt with him, which is just as annoying.
“What did you do for Christmas?” Peggy breaks into my thoughts.
I pull my eyes off the pot I’m scrubbing and look at her.
“I went to Long Island to spend time with my parents for a couple days. What about you?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
“Hector has a huge family, and they all came over to the house for dinner on Christmas Eve. Then, on Christmas Day, we all went to his parents’ house, opened gifts, and the kids and the guys all went to the park to play football while the wives cooked.”
“That sounds like fun.” I smile at her.
“It was.” She smiles back, wiping down counters that don’t really need to be wiped down. “I was an only child. Hector has three brothers and six sisters, so it’s always loud and crazy, but it’s nice.”
“It sounds nice,” I say.
Her eyes study me for a long time—so long that I start to feel awkward.
“Don’t let it get to you, honey,” she says softly. My heart thumps hard. “That was just his reaction to learning you have a date.”
“What?” I breathe.
She gets close to me and drops her voice.
“Men are sometimes complete idiots. Men see something they want, but they don’t go after it because they think it will always be there waiting for them until they’re finally ready to make a move. You just showed Antonio that you’re not waiting,” she says, freaking me the heck out.
“I think—” I start to tell her that she’s got it all wrong, but she doesn’t let me finish.
“Don’t.” She shakes her head. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I see it. I see it when he looks at you. I see it when you look at him. One day one of you is going to break, and I imagine that day is going to be soon. He did not like hearing that you have plans with another man. I don’t know what his holdup is, but I imagine it has something to do with the woman that came before you.”
Okay, I was freaked out before, but now I’m totally freaked out.
Is she right? Does Antonio like me? Am I that transparent when it comes to my feelings for him?
“Go on your date. Have fun, flirt, and pray to god that that boy finally pulls his head out of his ass like his mama has been telling him to do for years now.”
Oh my god.
“Peggy, I hate to tell you this. As much as I love Martina and hate killing her dream, you both have to know that he can barely stand me. I actually think he might even hate me,” I tell her.
She starts laughing so hard she doubles over from the effort.
I stare at her. “This isn’t funny.”
“It is.” She sobers up and grabs hold of my arm. “Honey, that boy does not hate you.”
“He does.”
“He might wish he could, but he does not hate you any more than I hate ice cream with chocolate syrup, rainy days at home with my family, sunsets at the beach, and the man I love giving me everything I want.”
Heart pounding hard, I beg for oxygen to fill my lungs. The idea that she could be right is almost too much for me to handle.
