Acrobat by Mary Calmes Page B

I can see everything you’re thinking right on your face.” He smiled. “Yeah, Nate, it’s a good thing.”
    I shrugged before looking back at Dreo. “Apparently my grilled cheese is good? Tell me what you want.”
    “I don’t wanna be no trouble.”
    “I really want to feed you,” I told him.
    He sighed deeply. “I don’t want you to cook, but if you wanna heat something up for me, I’d appreciate it.”
    “Coming right up.”
    After a few minutes, he joined me in the kitchen, leaning on the counter while I moved around.
    “I think this is the most we’ve ever said to each other at one time,” I commented.
    “I know,” he groaned. “It’s because I never know what to say.”
    “You could just talk. I don’t bite.”
    “Yeah, but you’re real smart.”
    I scoffed. “Yeah, I’m brilliant all right.”
    He shrugged. “Smarter than me.”
    “Hardly,” I assured him. “But we should talk more. I mean, we’ve got that kid in common and all.”
    He nodded. “Yeah, we do.”
    “I’ve known you a long time.”
    “Yes, you have.”
    “So?” I pressed him.
    “Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ll talk already.”
    I chuckled. “Don’t make me twist your arm or anything.”
    “You’re kind of a smartass.”
    “Which you would have never known if you weren’t chatting me up.”
    He grunted.
    “Can I pour you a glass of wine?”
    “Red?”
    “With marinara?” I teased. “Of course red. You want a Chianti or… oh, I have a really good Côte de Beaune as well.”
    “The Chianti.”
    “Coming right up.”
    I made his plate, filled a glass for him, and carried both to the table where I was sitting. He was still standing in the kitchen when I turned.
    “What are you doing? Come sit down.”
    He levered off the counter and crossed the room, sitting down next to my laptop.
    I passed him the napkin and the fork and told him to go for it.
    The look I got when he tilted his head back was lost. If it hadn’t been, if he had thanked me or smirked or done anything else, things might have been different. But his gaze, full of need, like he was hurting a little, slammed into me hard.
    “Jesus, what’s wrong?” I said, hand in his hair, pulling the heavy glossy black mane back from his face.
    He tensed, and I realized what I’d done. “Shit, sorry.” I dropped my hand and took a step back from him.
    His fingers curled around my wrist fast, and his grip so tight, he’d leave marks. “I’m not a little boy.”
    I squinted at him but didn’t try and tug free. “I know that.”
    “You don’t need to take care of me like you do Michael.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    He stared up into my face.
    “Could you let go?”
    He said something, but I didn’t get it.
    “What?”
    His eyes lifted to me. “ Ho una gran voglia di baciarti .”
    The words had almost been whispered. “I don’t know what you said.”
    Quiet grunt from him as he let go and went back to eating.
    “Dreo, I—”
    “No,” he cut me off, shaking his head before he looked back up. “I’m sorry, I was an ass. I overreacted.”
    “Okay.”
    “Sit down and talk to me, tell me everything that happened.”
    “Fine, but you have to give Michael a pass on the lecture. I already did that.”
    Heavy sigh. “ Sì .”
    “I like that.”
    “What?”
    “When you go back and forth between Italian and English.”
    “Do you?”
    “It’s pretty.” I nodded before walking to the kitchen to get my own glass of wine. “It must drive the women wild, huh?”
    He didn’t say anything, but when I turned, he was studying me.
    “Just tell me,” I said playfully as I returned.
    “Perhaps.”
    “I knew it.” I exhaled, sitting down, elbow on the table, head on my hand to look at him. I explained about Michael ditching basketball practice and bringing Danielle home with him. By the time I got to where we were on our way to take her home, he was shaking his head. “So Mr. Tulia hit me, as any father probably would have, because