Sweet on You (16 page)

"Are you saying I'm a stud?"

"That's what you're always telling me." She smirked at him.

Bending, he put his shoulder into her waist and lifted her over his shoulder.

"Nico!" she shrieked. "Put me down."

"Okay." He took her to the couch, set her on top, and covered her with his body.

Laughing, she pretended to push him away. "You're a brute."

"You love that about me."

"I do." She warmly gazed up at him, running her hand along his jaw.

He kissed her palm. "What do you want to do tonight? I have a couple excellent suggestions."

"Both of which probably exclude clothing."

"No. I'm perfectly happy letting you wear those red shoes."

Grinning, she pulled him down and gave a loud kiss. "Have I told you how happy I am? Which is incredible, when you consider the season."

"I'd have thought someone like you would love Christmas."

"Someone like me?" she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

"Full of light. Sweet." He kissed her and, like always, was surprised just how sweet she tasted.

She hummed, licking her lips when he lifted his head. "You're implying that 'someone like you' doesn't like Christmas."

"I don't." He sat up, but he kept his hand on her leg. He couldn't
not
touch her. "Christmas wasn't a great time of year in my household growing up."

She sat up, studying him solemnly. Finally, she said, simply, "I'm sorry for that."

"The past is the past."

"I wish I could have shared my grandmother with you. She did Christmas big." She took his hand, her expression soft. "My first memories are of Christmas. She used to decorate every inch of her house, and I'm not exaggerating. She had lights and holly on everything. She made my Nonni put up so many figures and lights outside their house that he complained it took him a week to finish. Theirs was the house you'd drive by at night to gawk at."

His childhood residence had been one to drive by as well—to drive by and shoot at. "You love your grandmother."

"She was amazing. She's the reason I bake. My first memories are of me sitting on her counter, helping her. By 'helping,' I mean I'd eat the fistful of raw dough she'd give me to play with. She'd play Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and Bing Crosby in the background, and sometimes she'd pick me up and dance. When I got older, we'd plan all the cookies we're going to make weeks ahead of time, and then we'd spend a week baking from dawn till late at night." Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. "Nonna died last year before Christmas."

He caressed her hair away from her face. "And it's not the same?"

"Not at all." She pursed her lips. "Although, this year is better. I think because I have a purpose with the soup kitchen. And because there's that family squatting in the building."

"I don't understand."

"I realized they probably won't have Christmas. Maybe they never have." Her brow furrowed at the thought. "It's just awful to think that."

He was torn between wanting to protect her naïveté and instructing her on how the real world worked. "That's life."

"It doesn't have to be." Her face lit up, fiery, like an unbending goddess. "If people just did a little something, things could change."

"Things only change for people who make it happen."

"
I'm
going to change things." She lifted her adorable chin. "I bought them Christmas presents."

He gazed at her steadily, not letting any of his thoughts show on his face. He was both endeared and irritated by her devotion to that homeless family. "It seems like more than enough that you take them food."

"It's not enough."

"It's also not your responsibility."

She frowned at him. "If I don't take responsibility, those kids will starve and freeze to death."

"They're street kids. They know how to take care of themselves."

"They're
kids
." She glared at him, pulling back. "No kids should have to take care of themselves."

But that wasn't how the world worked. He felt that hardened spot in his chest pulse righteously. Some kids didn't luck out. Some kids ended up dead.

"You don't agree." Daniela's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "You don't give a damn about them."

"They don't have to be where they are."

"They're
kids
," she yelled at him.

"They have a choice."

"Easy for you to say."

It was, because he'd been there. "You aren't going to be able to be their guardian angel forever, you know. You're headed for heartbreak. They're on the street because they don't have it in them to be anywhere else."

She got up to her knees, pointing at him. "You're the Grinch."

"Yes, I am. And I'm a realist, and no number of presents is going to help those kids in their situation."

"Well, I'm not inviting you to help me deliver them."

He narrowed his eyes. "And, yet, I'm still going with you."

She folded her arms and glared. Then she grabbed his shirt and kissed him hard. "You
infuriate
me, but thank you. For going with me," she added softly.

He
melted
, damn it. He didn't know whether to growl or roll over and expose his belly.

Fortunately, her phone rang them. She shifted to pick it up from the table. Making a sour face, she tossed it aside.

He wondered who it was that got such a reaction. "You didn't want to answer it?"

"It was my brother. He's just going to be overbearing."

Maybe because he was already on edge. Maybe because his perspective was different. Maybe because he could understand how frustrating it was to care for her. But he couldn't keep quiet. "Your brother cares about you. You should appreciate that. I'd give anything to have my older brother meddle in my life."

"But he doesn't, because he knows you're capable."

"He doesn't because he's dead."

She gasped, her hand tightening on his as she shifted to face him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He was just as startled by the statement as she was. He'd never told anyone. Nico swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "He died protecting me," he said, his voice low and raw even to his own ears.

Then she wrapped herself around him and squeezed. "I'm so sorry," she whispered against his neck. "I didn't know."

He squeezed her back, like she was his anchor, grounding him. He shifted her onto his lap and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

"Want to tell me about it?" she asked after a while.

"No." Sighing, he relented. "Our mom was into drugs, and everything else you could imagine, so Eddie took care of me. I don't remember a time when he didn't look out for me. He cooked for me and made me go to school, even though he dropped out in the fifth grade. He told me I had a brain, and that I had street smarts, and with the two I'd be able to do things."

"And you did."

"Eddie made sure of it. He wouldn't let me get distracted. He was so determined that I get out of that shithole that he joined the local gang to make money, to keep a roof over our head and to save for my college fund."

"Oh no," Daniela breathed, holding him tighter.

"He got in over his head. I don't know what they wanted him to do, but he refused, and the next thing I knew, he turned up on our doorstep, shot five times. I found him. It's been over twenty years, and I still remember every detail of that night."

She shook her head, a small sob escaping under her breath. "I didn't know."

Frowning, he lifted her chin. "Are you crying?"

"Of course, I'm crying," she exclaimed. "It's
sad
. I hate my brother right now, because he's a high-handed, selfish bastard, but I'd be devastated if he died. I'm so sad for you I want to go bake you sugar cookies."

Amazingly, he felt the hard spot on his chest loosen, and the beginning of a smile curve his lips. "Will that make me happy?"

"My grandmother always said they would." She sniffled, wiping her eyes on his shirt. Then she kissed his jaw. "If they don't work, there's always me."

"Yes, there is." He kissed her, gently, wholly, the way she deserved to be kissed. "It's working already."

Chapter Twenty-two

Marley stood outside of Valentine's subterranean office, her hand on the door handle. She should just go in. She started to open the door.

No, she shouldn't. She stopped, biting her lip. Maybe getting Brian's address wasn't a great idea.

Except she
missed
him. She'd been sitting in her office, surrounded by the mildly disappointed faces of the Justice League, trying to work on the list Tony had given her in his effort to "set Marley and his sister right."

She rolled her eyes. So far, the only thing he'd managed was to drive Daniela out of the house. They hadn't heard from her in days. She wasn't even returning Marley's calls.

That made Marley feel bad, like she let down someone who was supposed to count on her no matter what. She wanted to talk to Brian about it, but he wouldn't answer her calls either.

Which made her feel doubly bad. She'd lost the only two friends she had.

The days since she'd last seen Brian were awful. They'd dragged on forever, gray and dull, without anything to look forward to. She'd have given anything to hang out with him—to see a movie or dangle their feet over the stone wall as they shared cookies.

She missed kissing him.

She sighed. She
really
missed kissing him.

So she pressed on the handle and went inside.

Sitting primly on one of the gilded chairs, Valentine set her phone down. "I wondered if you were going to come in or not."

"I wasn't sure it was a good idea." She sat down, unwinding the lime green scarf. "I didn't know if you'd be angry with me."

Valentine regarded her silently, then shrugged. "I'm a matchmaker, so I've seen it all. But Brian's a friend of mine, so I'm disappointed for him. He liked you."

Liked
. She winced at the past tense. "You've talked to him?"

"Not much."

But enough to be annoyed with her—Marley got that much from Valentine's body language. "I need to see him, but he won't answer my calls. I don't suppose you'd give me his address, would you?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

The thought of not talking to Brian sent her over the edge. She leaned forward, intent on making Valentine understand. "I just want to talk to him. He and I have become friends in the past weeks and I feel bad leaving things the way they stand."

"That's all?" Valentine asked mildly. "You just want to fix your friendship?"

"No. Yes." She threw her hands in the air and fell back against the seat back. "I don't know. I thought we were friends."

"I thought you loved someone else."

She shook her head. "I don't know how I feel about anything. When I start to think about it, my head just hurts."

"You need to figure it out."

"I thought I had it figured out," she wailed. "I thought I loved Tony, but he's been around the house for days and instead of being excited I've just been annoyed. I try to avoid him at all costs. I even ducked into a closet to hide from him when he was calling for me."

"If you want my professional opinion, that's a bad sign."

She ignored her friend's sarcasm. "I thought if I talked to Brian, it might make it all clear somehow."

Valentine said nothing, watching her like impassively as though she were a psychiatrist.

Marley took a deep breath. "I just want to talk to him. Please, Valentine."

"I'll give you his address on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You have to kiss him." Valentine crossed her arms, looking like a militant cupid. She leaned forward, eyes blazing. "And not just a peck on the cheek. You have to kiss him with all the passion in your soul. That's the only way you're going to know."

Kissing Brian had never been the problem, so she nodded. "Okay."

Valentine picked up her phone and tapped the screen. "I texted it to you. Go now. I know he's home."

"Thank you." Getting up, she impulsively hugged her and then ran out the door.

By the time she flagged a cab and made it to Brian's apartment, she'd started to get cold feet. She stood on his doorstep, just like she had on Valentine's, not sure what to do.

He took the decision out of her hands by opening the door. "I can hear you creaking on the porch."

"Oh." She tried to smile but she was afraid she only managed a sickening grimace. "Hi."

He arched his brow. "That's all you've got for me?"

"No. Can I come in?"

Straightening his glasses, he stepped aside.

She gave his apartment a quick look, surprised that it was so tidy considering he didn't know she was coming over. Then she gasped, seeing the framed artwork on the walls. There was an entire series, all superheroes, ending with a simple abstract painting of Catwoman. "You have superheroes too," she said, dumbfounded.

"I doubt that's why you came over," he said, leaning against a wall.

"No, it's not." But it struck her hard for some reason. She tried to clear her head and focus on why she was there. "I had things I wanted to say, but I can't quite put them into words."

"Then how about I get some things off my chest?"

That didn't seem like a good idea, but she was so off-balanced she found herself saying, "Okay."

"When I said before that I wasn't interested in dating you, I was lying." He shrugged. "I'd hoped the reverse psychology would work on you. I shouldn't have tried. Hell, I shouldn't even be interested. Your priorities are screwed up. I don't need that."

She didn't know what to address first, so she just focused on the last part. "My priorities are fine."

"You're wasting your life working as a slave for someone just because you like her brother. Can you argue that?"

She clamped her mouth shut.

"See?" he said gently. "And the thing is, what are you wasting it for? Nothing, because that guy is never going to return your affections."