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“But Kat’s like a little sister to me, so I’m not exactly unbiased,” he admits.
I’m not exactly unbiased when it comes to this woman, either, so all I can do is nod.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Kat
Stopping at the mom-and-pop convenience store just down the street from my condo, the owner behind the counter greets me. “Hey, Kat. Long time no see,” the old man says. “Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Busy with work and family,” I tell him.
“Family’s the most important thing in this world.”
“Absolutely.” The Parisi family certainly feels that way. I ask for my old brand of cigarettes. “Soft pack, please.” I had no intention of smoking those cigarettes Fabio threw away; it’s hard to explain, but something about having them gives me a sense of comfort. Like I could smoke if I wanted to, but it’s my choice.
The owner reaches behind the counter and grabs a pack, adjusting his glasses with his other hand. “These?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“License.”
“You know I’m eighteen,” I tease, fishing in my purse for my wallet.
He shrugs. “I know, but gotta keep things on the up and up.”
I find my license, dropping it in the deal tray. He takes a look at it, his eyes going wide. “Katerina Stefanos.”
“That’s me. But most people call me Kat.” Except for Mr. Psycho, and I hate the way my full name sounds so sensual on his tongue with just a twinge of an Italian accent. Sounded. Past tense.
He drops my ID back in the tray like it burned him. “Sorry.” He grabs the cigarettes and puts them back under the counter.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, confused.
“I can’t sell you smokes,” he says, looking around nervously.
“Why? You saw for yourself I’m old enough.”
“Not your age, but who you are,” he whispers. “I don’t want trouble with the family. Please go.”
“Fucking Mr. Psycho,” I grit, storming out.
I stop short when I see Fabio parked beside my car. I march over and bang my fist on his window, and he rolls it down with a smug look on his face. “Thanks for saving me the cash. I’ll just bum a smoke from my next bed warmer. Oh, and thanks for suggesting Gavin.”
I saunter to my car, hoping like hell the thought of me with another man makes Fabio half as crazy as the thought of him with another woman makes me.
Arriving at my condo, I change into my lounge clothes and order a pizza. My phone buzzes, and I grab it.
Let’s go out tonight.
I type back a reply to Taylor.
Sorry, I’ve already taken my bra off.
With or without assistance?
If it was with assistance, I wouldn’t be texting you right now.
