Riding Dirty: Luciotti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) - Kara Hart Page 0,25
was knocking his head with each drum hit. “What's the matter? You don't like good music?” It was the kind of song that teenage girls played in their car on the way to Starbucks. It definitely wasn't something I expected to hear coming from a tough Italian guy’s speakers.
“I can't believe you listen to this,” I said, trying not to laugh. His illustrious movements and dancing had now turned into full on head banging once the chorus kicked in to full volume.
“Dance with me, Dahlia! Don't leave me hanging,” he yelled, smiling like a true idiot. “Woo!”
I shook my head with disapproval. “Woo? Really?” He frowned at me. “What? I don't call what you're doing dancing,” I said.
“You really are a mom, aren't you?” he teased. I chose not to answer him. “Oh, come on Grandma. What's the problem?” We were close to the café now. Only problem was I still had about 15 minutes until it opened.
“I'm not a grandma!” A smile broke onto my face. I couldn't help it. He was such a shit!
“I’m sorry but I'm not really believing you right now. But, I guess it doesn't matter what I believe,” he laughed.
I turned off the radio as we pulled up to the café. I said “You're right. It doesn't. Thanks for the ride.” I got out of the car and sat down on the bench next to the front door. Just leave me alone. Start the car and roll on out of here, big boy.
But he didn't. He stopped the car’s engine and got out to sit next to me. “What're you doing? Following me, still?” I asked him.
“Need any help openin’ the shop?” He smiled, his white teeth glistening at me.
“No. I just need to move the trash cans to the front and wait for Carmelo to get here, If he gets here,” I said, staring ahead.
“Alright then.” He muttered. I thought he was going to leave, but he didn't. Instead of walking back to his car, he walked into the back alleyway.
“Where are you going now?” I asked, knowing full well I'd find out soon enough.
Within seconds, he came out holding two large trash cans above his head. He looked like a maniac. “You know those have wheels, right?” I asked him.
“But that's no fun.” He began lifting each trash can as if it were a pair of weights at a gym.
“Don't do that. You're embarrassing yourself,” I laughed.
“You don't like a man who helps his woman in a time of need?” He asked me, setting down the heavy trash cans on the side of the curb. He rolled his sleeves over his shoulders and wiped a bead of sweat from his face.
“First of all, I'm not your woman. Second of all, I didn't need your help. I do this by myself all the time.” Of course, I wasn't going to admit how difficult it was for me every morning. Even though the cans had wheels, the trash was the hardest thing for me to do. More often than not, it took Carmelo’s help to move it to where it needed to be.
“Alright. Fair enough,” he said, pulling a cigarette out.
“Do you always have to smoke those in front of me?” I gave him a disgusted look. Truth was I used to smoke two packs a day at the height of my craziness. I didn't really have a problem with smoking, so I didn't know why I was even trying to pick a fight. I just hated that I couldn’t stop staring at him. I hated that I actually found him impressive. Couldn't he just leave me and Jen alone?
He chucked the cigarette into the street, where it sat burning, sending curls of smoke into the air. “Sorry, Grandma. I forgot how harmful these things can be for the elderly.”
I gave him a fiery glance. “I'm not a grandma. I'm a young and beautiful woman with the world at my fingertips.”
He scratched at his chin, as if he were thinking heavily to himself. “Well,” he said, “you are beautiful. But you're still going to have to prove to me that you're not 85 and awaiting that coffin of yours.”
“You want me to prove it? Fine, I'll prove it.” I jumped up from the bench and stomped into the street. I bent down and picked up that burning cigarette and placed it in my mouth. “See,” I said, taking in a long drag. I coughed immediately, dropping the cigarette from my lips and falling to