Page 17 of A Valentine's Day Gift
“Like building my art studio.”
He inclined his head. “That was good for you, but not real challenging. The office building we’re doing now is cool, building from the ground up. Now that’s a challenge, and it’ll stand the test of time. What else? Oh, my family. Just my dad locally now. We get along well. My older brother lives in Texas. My ma, she passed away when I was fifteen.”
“Oh, Vinny, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. It was sudden, one of those freak things. Brain aneurysm. She didn’t suffer.”
“Gosh, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“It’s okay. It’s part of me, and you wanted to get to know me. Keep going with the questions.”
“You sure?”
He gestured her on. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Favorite sport?”
He grinned. “Football. I was varsity as a freshman. I fucking loved it.” He checked in with her right quick. “I mean frigging.”
“You don’t have to censor yourself with me.”
“Allie, you’re a classy lady. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear.”
“Fucking, fucking, fucking.”
He got hot hearing that come out of her sweet mouth. He stopped at a stop sign and looked at her. She was beaming, looking proud of herself despite her bright pink blush. “You’re so damn cute.”
She giggled. “And you’re so damn handsome.”
He smiled. “Breathtaking?”
She bit her lip, nodding and smiling.
He shook his head, still smiling. Sweet and sexy. He hit the accelerator.
“What would you do if you had all the time and money in the world?” she asked.
He thought about that. “I’d build you the house of your dreams.”
“Get out! You would not.”
“I would.”
“This is supposed to be about you.”
“I like building stuff. And I like making you happy.”
She sniffled. He glanced over to find her digging a tissue out of her tiny purse and wiping under her eyes. “You’re crying?” he asked. “Geez, I lost my touch.”
“No, you’ve got it just fine.”
“Okay, tell me about you. Answer all the same questions.”
She looked up before turning back to him. “My life is so boring. I grew up in a middle-class suburb of Connecticut, went to college, got pregnant, dropped out and spent the next several years taking care of kids and the house. I’m terrible at sports. I used to love dance, in fact, I was a pretty good ballerina, but my legs and arms weren’t long enough for the ideal. I was always in the background, never the principal dancer.”
“You were part of the team.”
She laughed. “In a way, I guess. I get along with my parents okay. I have a younger sister who lives in Rhode Island. She’s a jewelry designer.”
