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“Ha!” Nonna exclaims. “Don’t lie. It’s not becoming.”
“Can I help being excited about my only daughter’s future?” Her arms fling wide in true (distant) Italian despair. “Punished for being excited, punished for caring!”
I pull a face. “I wasn’t punishing you. I was exploring a relationship, Mom. I already had enough issues… I didn’t need you hummingCanon in D Majorevery time I walked past?—”
“It’s Cody Korhonen, isn’t it?” When I grace her with a nod, she squeals. “Oh, my god! My baby girl’s dating a Korhonen!”
“You don’t even like the Korhonens,” I grouse, both amused and exasperated by her glee. “You think they’re all snobs.”
(Naturally, that goes over her head.)
“You know who Judy Paul’s daughter married? One of the croupiers at that awful casino where Marion Prewet gambled her house away.” She hoots. “Judy was all in my face about how her son-in-law earns enough for Deandra to be a stay-at-home mom. Take that, Judy!”
Drumming my fingers against the table, I glower at Nonna, who just smiles at me. “It isn’t a crime to be happy for your daughter,coniglio.”
“You were bitching about him this summer when he couldn’t get those bikers to stop making so much noise,” I point out.
But Mom already has stars in her eyes, which only confirms that I was right to keep this quiet.
Still, I can’t stop myself from murmuring, “I never did like Deandra Paul…”
Cody
Later that afternoon
“Shit.”
I rub my jaw, well aware that Colt’s doing the same thing as we both peer into the pit.
I didn’t need this BS at any point in my week, but the day after yesterday’s fuck fest? Not only with Cole’s wedding and that weird conversation with Tee that’s still unresolved because I didn’t even have enough time to sleep, never mind return home after sneaking out of the reception dinner to deal with a trio of mercenaries?
My life’s turning into aMission Impossiblesequel and I’m already sick of it.
“Didn’t know you were breaking ground so soon,” he comments as the builders around us buzz and hover, chatter stirring like flies around a fresh pile of horse shit.
More gossip—we need to start copyrighting our lives because someone, someday, is going to write a book about it all. I can feel it in my bones.
“Figured the crew were doing a great job on the breeding stables and they were proceeding well on the dog shelter, so I asked the same company if they’d get started on my plot.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “You had the plans ready?”
“No.”
“Then…”
“I had them rushed.” When he coughs, I grimace. “Is this conversation really important right now?”
“Nope.”
“I just?—”
“Prepping for asking Tee the big question?” he asks slyly. “I know she forgave you because the winter front thawed, but I didn’t realize you were at this point in your relationship.”
“This has nothing to do with Tee,” I lie. “Anyway, we’re not?—”
He slaps me on the shoulder. “You can BS Callan and maybe Cole, though he’s definitely more shifty in nature, but not me. You’ve had your eye on this plot long enough to want it but not to get the plans drafted until recently.” He whistles. “Must have paid a hefty price to get that done express.”
“The body wasn’t a part of the compensation package,” I grumble, staring at the bones beneath the recently tilled earth. “Anyway, are we seriously discussing my love life while we’re staring at a skeleton?”