Pressure Point (Point #2) (16 page)

“Monday.”

“Blake…” Paying no mind to my friend, he touches my cheek again, this time drawing a straight line with the tip of his pointer finger.

“I’ll see you then, Snow White.”

Lord help me, but I want to be with him—Monday night and every night after.

“What am I missing?” The four-seat dining room table has enough food for ten people, not just my three cousins and Violet. Bruschetta, meatballs, spaghetti, and an antipasto platter should be enough, but Max and Ben eat like they’re starving.

Antonia, Ben, Max, and Violet will be here soon. First comes food (and lots of it) then a round of Scattergories or a card game before falling into conversation. This is the first time that game night is at my house and I want to make this a place that my cousins want to return, down to the menu and the extra throw blanket that I tossed on the couch to ward off the subzero temperatures.

I’m thankful for the distraction of cooking and cleaning today. Otherwise my mind would land on Blake and never escape. The man is like quicksand—no matter how hard I fight to break free, he keeps pulling me back, deeper and deeper, until I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to survive him.

Wiping the thought from my mind, I head into the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and toss it into a ponytail. There’s no dress code or need to impress my cousins. In a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt that hangs off my shoulder, I’ll be no less fancy than the rest of the lot.

Buzz!

My shoulders start at the abrupt sound from my doorbell. Without asking who’s there, I press my thumb on the button to unlock the front door of my building. Leaving my front door ajar, I walk toward the kitchen to wash my hands.

The main space of my condo combines the living-slash-dining-slash-kitchen area. The three areas squeeze into the square room. I’ll admit, my home isn’t large but the size doesn’t bother me. All that matters is this place is
mine.
Lots of scrimping allowed me to put a decent down payment on this place with enough left over to furnish.

“We’re here!” The front door bursts open and my cousin Ben tramples inside. I open my arms and he runs into them, smashing me into a hug.

“And I’m thrilled to see you, Mr. Energetic,” I tease.

Antonia trails behind him. “Bless you for hosting, Stella. Tony’s got the girls tonight and I don’t have to change diapers.” My cousin may lightly complain about her daughters, but she loves them more than life itself. She brushes a wayward brown curl behind her ear and presents a bottle of wine. “Thank you for cooking, I prepped with the kitchen staff all afternoon.”

“How could I not cook? It’s the first time that we’re getting together at my place.”

“Something smells unreal.” Violet enters next, also toting a bottle of wine. Max appears next and then…

“Dominic!” I gasp in excited surprise. It’s been months since I’ve seen Max’s identical twin, and I’m thrilled that he’s here. My cousin lives in Canada and works in player development for the Wings, a professional hockey team.

“What are you waiting for? Get over here, kid.” He uses my nickname to irk me, but I don’t mind. Dominic’s always been rough around the edges, though enigmatic, like his father. While Max never says a bad word about anyone, Dominic’s critical and at times judgmental. Past his rough veneer is a sensitive man deeply devoted to his family.

His jacket still carries the cold air from outside, and it chills my cheek when I press it against his chest. Dominic slides his arm around my upper back and squeezes me tight. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks, but what are you doing here?” I begin shuffling around the small space, taking my cousins’ coats to the small closet in the hallway leading toward my bedroom while they strip off their boots.

“Mom and Dad weren’t too happy that I missed Christmas.”

“None of us were,” Antonia says as she drops into the Cayenne-colored armchair. I admittedly relied on the West Elm catalog to decorate my home, but I think it turned out nicely—modern furnishings with a hint of feminism.

Dominic rolls his eyes good-naturedly, joining Benny on the gray sectional. “Working the holidays was not my idea of fun either, but there was a player…”

“And you had to check him out,” Max finishes.

“If I ever want to work at an organization like the Scrapers, then yes. They say jump, I ask how high. It’s my dream job,” he explains defensively.

“We missed you at our family dinner, that’s all,” I remind him softly. “But we are proud of you for chasing your dream, even if we’re sad that it takes you away from us.” Crossing the living room, I grab his shoulder and rock it back and forth a few times.

“I know.” He puffs out a breath. “Wings play the Scrapers tomorrow. Here for a tour of Midwest teams. If I can get tickets, Benny boy and I are going to hit up the game, right, B?” My older cousin nods enthusiastically at Dominic.

Ben’s my cousin who adores hockey. He follows the Scrapers with near religious fervor. Last night, I tried to win tickets to a game at the raffle but came up short to my disappointment. No matter now, though, because Dominic’s shown up at the perfect time to take my thoughts away from a certain member of the Scrapers organization.

“This is the best kind of surprise,” Antonia affirms my thoughts in a softer tone making my cousin visibly relax. I cast a glance at Violet, who’s been uncharacteristically silent during this entire exchange. Something’s off with her, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Buzz!

I jump around in surprise toward the intercom system. “I wonder who that could be.” I’m not expecting anyone else and hardly get visitors outside of my family. “Hello?” I mutter into the device, tuning out the conversation behind me about who will open the first bottle of vino.

“It’s Blake.”

A familiar sensation of being locked in place halts my brain from rational thought. “Hi,” I say stupidly. How does he know where I live? Oh. He dropped Zoe here a time or two. God, he’s got me so twisted up that I can’t remember the little things.

“It’s freezing out here. Can I come up?” There’s laughter in his voice, as if he knows that he renders me senseless.

“Oh, um, sure.” I know if I turn around, I’ll find curious cousins staring at me, and I’m not prepared to answer them because I don’t know what’s happening, either. Why would Blake show up at my place? He knew that I had plans.

Once again, I crack open the front door, but this time nervous anticipation crackles around me. Thumps sound against the carpeted steps during his ascent and then he’s here. Six foot something, glorious wind-swept brown hair, dark gray wool coat and brown leather boots. Did he step off the cover of
GQ
or a blustery winter night? Like my cousins, he’s brought alcohol with him, three bottles of wine wedged against his body.

I step out into the hallway, halfway closing the door behind me to muffle our conversation from my eavesdropping cousins. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t turn down family game night.” The man has no shame; he’s smiling cockily as if he’s not intruding on my life.

“I don’t recall inviting you. And how did you know it would be here? Speaking of that, how did you know where to find me last night?”

Blake steps forward, crowding me toward my front door, but I refuse to be intimidated. Even if it means tilting my head back, I continue to meet his gaze unafraid.

“Marla’s a wealth of information. A couple of questions and I found out about the charity event.” My stomach flips. He went to the trouble to find me? “And if you want me to believe that you’re dating Channing Tatum’s twin, you should tell him not to help a guy out when he’s begging for details.” My heart catches on the word choice of begging.

“Violet was the one who said I had a date with Felix, not me,” I remind him. “And when you say begging, it gives the connotations of desperation.”

His expression becomes intent. “Was I not clear last night? I’ll do whatever it takes to spend more time with you, Stella. Whatever. It. Takes.” With the last three words, his voice goes soft, but no less firm and believable.

I’m silently cheering at his confession. Somehow, I manage to keep my face even. “By all means, join us.” Using the back of my body to push the door open, I make way for him to enter.

“What the funk is he doing here?” Violet asks from where she’s curled next to Max on my sofa. It’s not said spitefully, but full of surprise.

“That’s the second time you’ve used funk instead of its lewder alternative. Gotta tell you, friend, I don’t think it’s sticking.” I train my wide, shocked eyes on my friend. Violet raises an auburn eyebrow in question. Max tugs her against his chest and presses a kiss to her forehead. It’s a sweet gesture, but his eyes are stuck on Blake.

“She’s right, funk is not working. Although, I’m sure we’re all wondering why Blake Campbell appears to be joining us for a
family
gathering.” There’s no mistaking the hostility in Max’s tone.

Fortunately for Blake, my cousin Ben is oblivious to the thick tension simmering in the room. He hustles over to Blake and sticks out his hand eagerly. “You’re Blake Campbell, owner of the Scrapers! They’re my favorite team. I watch every game and Cam Stone is the best goalie in the league.”

I swear the rest of us are watching this interaction while holding our breaths. Okay, I am practically sweating bullets to see how Blake will respond to my exuberant cousin. Ben’s almost ten years older than I am. He has messy dark hair, a gigantic toothy grin, patience of a saint, and Downs Syndrome. No one in the Baccino family would deny that we are protective over Ben, and anyone who treats him disrespectfully faces our wrath. That’s why my eyes flick back and forth between the two. Whether Blake knows it or not, if he fails this test, I’ll kick him to the curb faster than he can say Scrapers.

“Hey, man. Nice to meet a fan of the team.” Blake’s wine-free hand shoots out to shake the one waiting for him. He doesn’t blink when Ben shakes his hand aggressively for a beat or two too long. “What’s your name?”

“Ben Baccino.”

“Ben, whenever you want tickets to a game, let Stella know. My box is open to you anytime.”

Like the air in a popped balloon, the tension dissipates in one long rush. Quickly, I introduce him to the rest of my family. Antonia’s practically swooning and Violet gives him a head nod. Even Max gives a slight grin when he greets Blake.

“Here’s Dominic, he’s the one who – ”

“Works for the Wings. You got time to talk tomorrow? We’ll do it offsite, of course,” Blake offers making my heart melt slightly. He remembers what I told him about my cousin.

Damn.
He’s won over everyone in the room. If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit every move that he makes sends me falling a little deeper into his quicksand.

There aren’t enough seats for everyone once we’ve filled our plates with food, so Blake sits next to me on the floor like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No one asks us how we know each other or why Blake has stopped by. They’ve all accepted that he’s here to see me. I haven’t come that far yet. I’m still confused as to why he hasn’t given up.

He wants to be with you. He already told you. Stop fighting it.

“I’ve missed your cooking.” Dominic interrupts my thoughts with a throaty groan.

“She’s a wonderful cook,” Violet praises, speaking up again though she’s been mostly silent.

“You could learn a thing or two from her,” Dominic grumbles, causing me to twist my neck to the side and shoot him a glare.

“Careful,” Max says in defense of his fiancée. For the most part, the twins agree on everything. To see them noticeably divided is jarring. Meanwhile, Violet studies her plate silently. It’s so unlike my normally outspoken friend that I want to pull her into the bedroom and make sure that she doesn’t have the flu.

“Just a little surprised that my baby brother is marrying a chick who can’t cook. You live for Mom’s lasagna.”

“Relax, Dominic.” The words come out of my mouth before I can think twice. The room goes silent and everyone turns to look at me. Violet’s been through enough, what with her parents practically disowning her for leaving their Baptist church and now marrying a man outside their faith. That aside, my friend loves Max unconditionally and wildly. I’m not pleased to see her getting gruff for her lack of culinary skills. She’s practically perfect in every way. Not annoyingly perfect, but a friend you want to have around because she keeps you honest and even.