Page 73 of Craving Francesca

“I’m not hearin’ anything,” I replied.

“Doesn’t mean shit. The smart ones are quiet.”

“No one is ever that quiet,” I countered. My network was precise and extensive. I had eyes and ears everywhere.

“We’ll see,” he mused, walking away toward my mom.

I was glad for the excuse to see everyone. The clubhouse was usually pretty busy on the weekends, but there was only so much bullshitting I could do with the old timers before I started feeling ancient myself. I didn’t have a ton of friends—at least not ones that I wanted to spend time with—and the group of younger brothers that I actually did like hanging with hadn’t been partying as much lately.

Fuck it. I was full of shit. I hadn’t heard from Frankie, and I was fucking jonesing to see her. I’d had plenty going on. I’d spent some time at Otto’s setting up a little bike track for his oldest two kids. I’d gone to the fair with most of the Hawthornes and all their kids. I’d hung out with Harper the night she was in town. It wasn’t like I’d been sitting at home by myself. I just hadn’t laid eyes on Francesca Marino in far too long, and it had started making me twitchy weeks ago. Cian had mentioned that they’d all be at the party, and I’d decided there was no way I’d miss it.

When they finally pulled up, I straightened and watched as they parked. Cian and Myla were on the bike and easy to spot, but I didn’t let out a little breath of relief until Lou and Frankie opened their doors and climbed out of Lou’s car.

“I fucking knew it,” my mom sang with a laugh, poking me in the side as she sashayed past with Aunt Rose.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Aunt Rose joked.

I waved them off without looking away from the women walking across the forecourt.

Something was off. I looked between Lou and Frankie. They were carrying drinks, and Frankie had a reusable grocery bag over her shoulder.

As they got closer, I realized that I was gaping at them and fixed my face. I couldn’t contain the fury that filled my chest though. That seemed to be out of my control.

She looked like hell. The shorts and T-shirt she wore were hanging on her, and Iknewthose shorts, I’d stared at those shorts, they’d cupped her ass like a goddamn work of art before.

Frankie laughed, and I nearly winced as I glanced at Lou to see if she noticed how brittle the sound was. She hadn’t. She was chattering away about something, grinning, like everything was fine.

I wasn’t going to make a fucking scene. People were always making a goddamn scene at these things, like no one would notice. Everyone noticed. They enjoyed that shit. Everyone wanted to know what was going on with everyone else, and they thrived on the drama of it all. It wasn’t even malicious. They just loved to see the shit play out instead of hearing it second or third hand.

“You made it,” Otto said, walking up beside me. “When did you get here?”

“About the time that Ansel shot you in the face with the squirt gun.”

“Which time?” Otto asked drolly. “What are you doin’ standin’ over here alone?”

“Was talkin’ to my dad, but he took off,” I answered distractedly, watching Frankie as she moved through the crowd saying her hellos.

“What are you lookin—oh,” Otto said as he turned to see. “Myla here, too?”

“She and Cian went inside with some food.”

“Why are we staring at Frank and Lou?” Otto asked curiously, taking a drink of his beer.

“You don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“Look at ’em.”

“I see Frankie and Lou, man. That’s who we’re lookin’ at, right?” He paused. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “I’ll catch up with you later.” I was already on the move as I followed Frankie and Lou toward the front door.

The inside was only slightly less crowded as various people set out food along the bar. Generally, the old ladies each brought something to add to the mix, which meant that you got a whole array of different shit to choose from, and even the pickiest eaters could find something they liked. Frankie set her bag on the floor and pulled out a couple of loaves of some kind of bread and sat them along the bar. She said something to Lou, handed her the bag, and then headed toward the archway that led to the rooms and bathrooms.

I caught up to her a couple doors down from my room.

“Jesus Christ,” she yelped, spinning to face me the second I touched her. “You scared me.”

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