Page 19 of The Woman in the Hollow
And, fuck, if she wasn’t even more gorgeous than usual with the lights shining on her hair, standing there in that pretty dress like this was some fucking movie.
“Pennies?” I asked, snapping myself out of the sudden urge to grab her, pull her flush to my chest, and seal my lips to hers.
“Yeah, there are pennies in the fountain. Do you guys use it as a wishing fountain?”
I stepped forward, our shoulders brushing, to peer inside. Sure enough, there were shiny pennies scattered on the bottom.
“Huh. Maybe Ma throws pennies with the grandkids. Got any wishes?” I asked, watching her profile.
“I don’t have any pennies.”
I reached in my pocket for my wallet, found a penny, and held it out to her.
She took it, staring at it like she was pinning all her hopes and dreams on it. She sucked in a deep breath, then tossed it. We both stood there, watching it drop into the water and sink to the bottom.
“What’d you wish for?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” she said, turning her head to look at me.
And we were close. So damn close. I could just lean forward and my lips would be on hers.
As if hearing my thoughts, her gaze dipped to my lips.
I know I told Dom I wouldn’t do it.
It also probably wasn’t a good precedent to set to let my mother think she could play matchmaker.
But, fuck, just this once, I didn’t want to think about anything but what I wanted.
And I wanted her.
My hand lifted, fingers sliding across the smooth skin of her neck, my thumb pressing up under her chin as I started to lean in.
“Uncle Dante!” a shrill little voice called, making both of us tense and jump apart.
“Shh, leave Dante alone, honey,” my ma said.
But it was too late.
The moment was gone.
“Dinner is probably ready,” I said.
Hazel’s gaze slipped to the fountain once again before she nodded and followed me inside.
Even hours later, after Hazel was gone, and I was alone in my bed after a punishing late-night workout, I couldn’t stop wondering what she might have wished for.
CHAPTER SIX
Hazel
“You haven’t been eating a bunch of junk food, have you?” my mother asked from my phone set in the holder on my dashboard.
Sitting in the lot at work, I leaned back against the headrest, closed my eyes, and let out a slow breath, seeking some patience.
After our usual hellos and how-are-yous, that was the first thing she asked.
Not about my new job, about my apartment, whether I’d made any friends, or if I missed home.
