Smoke (The Carelli Family Saga #1) - Eden Butler Page 0,17

nothing to convince me.

She wore no makeup. Her skin was clean and pale, but clear, and I couldn’t take my damn eyes off her. Like some sprung kid who snuck into his girl’s bedroom in the middle of the night, just having Maggie kicked back against my chest was fucking indulgent.

And I wasn’t the only one doing a little indulging. We’d been in this little bubble with no one around for days, snuggled up like there was something more than just…whatever the hell there was between us, locked up in this apartment. I saw it in her eyes, that sweet glance that told me what she wanted. The same damn shit that filled me up anytime I spotted her across a room, like seeing something I wanted, knowing I shouldn’t want it, but having that deep down hope that it could still be mine despite knowing it wasn’t likely.

Maggie pressed her lips together, moving her face against my fingers when I brushed the hair from her cheek, and I blinked, remembering her excuse and the conversation we were supposed to be having. “The ah…antibiotics don’t make you fuzzy-headed.”

“No,” she said, sounding a little breathless, “that’s you.”

Fingers resting between her hair, I stared down at her, not sure what to think. Not sure if I should be thinking anything at all. “I make you fuzzy-headed?”

“Did I say that out loud?” She tilted her chin down, closing her eyelids like they’d gotten too heavy to keep open, and some of the air came back into my lungs.

“Bella, you’re high.”

“Not high enough.” Maggie took a breath, her bottom lip opening so wide that I could make out the tip of her tongue behind her teeth. Even high on pain meds, she was a temptation. She let me pull her closer, adjusting her head against the arm of the sofa as I watched her, fanning out her thick hair against the lumpy pillow under her head. “Why are you so good to us?”

“Ulterior motives,” I admitted, guessing she probably wouldn’t remember any of this conversation.

“Which are?”

“The kid. He’s gonna be president. I might need a pardon one day.”

“Smoke…” Maggie grinned, fluttering her eyes open, the pupils back to normal as she watched me—clear, alert. The fuzziness was gone. She heard me. She’d caught me. For the life of me, I couldn’t find a reason to worry that she had.

Maggie Ramirez was strong. Smart. She was kind. She was honest.

She was beautiful.

What kind of idiot wouldn’t want her? What kind of fool wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect her?

I took a thick curl from her shoulder and wrapped it around my finger, not thinking of anything really, but the distraction it gave me and how good it felt to have her in my lap, watching me, liking that this felt normal. Comfortable. At least, what passed for both in my world.

“I told you…I have your back.”

A small sigh left her mouth when she adjusted, turning on her side, facing me before she spoke. “You made sure Milly Jacob’s kids had new robes for their choir competition.”

“Yeah. So?”

“And Luke Schmidt said you paid for a new roof on his dad’s garage because he lost his job last winter.” Her stare was neutral, her point silent, and I met it with more of the same for a full minute, getting nothing back from her.

Finally, I shrugged, moving my chin at her. “You got a point?”

A twitch shook across her lips before Maggie nodded, pulling on my hand so she could run her nails against my palm. “You have a lot of people’s back, but you aren’t spoon-feeding them soup and making sure their kid is taken care of.” She rested my hand against her chest, curling her fingers with mine and the air went still again in my lungs with the look she gave me. “You aren’t low-key getting paint jobs on the secondhand cars they buy or talking your folks into paying them too much for a waitress job.” She reached up, brushing away the hair that had fallen into my eyes as I watched her. “And, far as I know, you aren’t giving them mind-blowing orgasms.” When I only watched her, not saying a word, Maggie squinted, narrowing her eyes. “Are you?”

I pulled the right side of my mouth up, grinning at her. “Mr. Schmidt is a little too flat chested for me, bella.”

I liked her laugh and that pretty smile. There had been a lot of beautiful women in my circle over