Page 20 of Tempted Hearts
And annoying too.
“I can’t hear what she’s saying.” Delaney chewed on her lower lip. “Think we should help her?”
“By we,” Parker clarified, “do you mean Cole? Or did you also secretly learn Italian on your way over here?”
Delaney spun toward me, forgetting all about helping Juliette. “How did you do that anyway?”
“Like I said to Juliette?—”
“Jules,” she interrupted.
“Juliette,” I continued pointedly. “I brushed up on the plane.”
Now even Parker was suspicious. “‘Brushed up’ implies you knew it in the first place.”
Not wanting to get into it, I shrugged off his observation. “My mother is second-generation Italian. She and I took classes for a while together.”
“Wow. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you mention your mother,” Delaney said.
“Here I thought you were 3D printed in a lab,” Parker joked.
“Funny.” I motioned from Parker and Delaney to turn around. They did, realizing Juliette was missing.
“Where’d she go?”
“Into the house. Appears her long-lost relative invited her in.”
“I didn’t even notice,” Delaney said.
I did.
Only the fact that the woman she’d been talking to appeared over ninety years old, and that they’d been smiling, kept me from following her inside. Even so, if she was in there too long, I’d have to follow.
“What’s so funny?” Parker asked as we waited.
“I was imagining that little old woman tying Juliette up to a chair.”
“You’ve got a screw loose somewhere.” Parker shook his head and pointed at a nearby building, telling Delaney about its likely construction. She pretended to be fascinated.
Another vision threatened the cool calm everyone expected from me. Juliette tied up, but this time, in my bed. Those luscious curves of hers on full display, watching me with a mixture of lust and anticipation. One I could easily fulfill.
But I wouldn’t.
She was too close to my inner fold. If there was one thing I would never risk, it was the family I’d found in Mason and Beck, and later Parker in college when the four of us became inseparable.
“They are a-mazing.” Juliette came running toward us. “Did you see the woman at the door?” she asked. “That was Great-Grandmother’s cousin. Thank goodness she knew enough English for me to figure that out. Her husband passed away—don’t quote me on this, I’m terrible with Italian numbers over ten—almost twenty years ago. What a badass. She invited me in but gets tired easily, apparently. Check this out.”
Opening her hand, Juliette produced a gold flower pin. It looked as old as the relative, its turquoise chipping away, although the base remained intact. “She said it was my great-grandmother’s. Do you think that’s true? And she gave it to me.”
The light in her eyes while she spoke would make someone think Juliette had just been given the keys to her ancestral home.
“I’m sure it is,” Delaney said generously. “What else did she say?”
Juliette made an “oops” face. “Honestly, her English was about as good as my Italian. We spent most of the time trying to figure out the connection and then she brought me inside for the pin. I caught something about her getting tired quickly and that was it. I can’t believe she lives alone.”
“She doesn’t, not really,” I pointed out.
All three of them waited for me to explain, which I did by waving my arms to the neighbors. One stood on a second-floor balcony, hanging clothes, watching us. To the left, an elderly woman was sweeping what appeared to be an already-swept walkway. It was the same across the street. All women. All watching warily.
