“Poor guy. Who are you closest to?”
He blinks and then polishes off his champagne in one big gulp. “What do you mean?”
“Which sibling are you closest to?”
He frowns, resting the glass on his knee. “It changes.”
“Okay. What about now?”
“My sister, I guess. And Eddie. They’re great. But stay away from Eddie. He’s trouble.”
“Please. I’m your girlfriend—what am I gonna do? Hit on your brother at Christmas dinner?”
And that’s when any normal human would at least offer a polite fake laugh or a raised eyebrow perhaps, but Declan Cannavale’s mood shifts, and I swear, the neon pink lighting flickers and it gets a little bit darker all around him. Men are always complaining that women are impossible to read—like the Sphynx. But sometimes this guy’s thoughts are hieroglyphs written in invisible ink on papyrus and then folded up and shoved inside a flaming bag of dog poop. I could try stepping on the flaming bag of dog poop to put out the fire, but I’m still not going to be able to read that folded-up note inside.
“Is there anything else I should know about your family, Declan?”
He shakes his head. “If you have a specific question, just ask.” He places the champagne glass on the strip of counter beside him and opens up his laptop again. “Otherwise, I’ll be using the next hour of this drive to catch up on work.”
“You’re not going to ask me about the important people in my life?”
“Well, I already know about the most important person in your life.” He points his thumbs at himself. “And I already know about your parents. Carly and Joe Cooper. Right?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“I heard you say their names on the phone once when you were ordering something to be delivered to them on their anniversary. They live in Murray Hill.”
“Yes.”
“Which is where you grew up.”
“Yes.”
“But your mom’s from Staten Island, and you have at least one aunt who still lives there.”
“Yes.”
“Your sister Rebecca is your best friend, and her daughter Piper is adorable and has a massive crush on me.”
“Bex. I call my sister Bex. How do you know all that? Did you do a background check on me or something?”
“Sure, if paying attention and remembering things counts as a background check. I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of a loudmouth, Coop. I can always hear you yammering when I’m in my office with the door open.”
“My apologies. I guess I didn’t think you were listening.”
“My apologies,” he mumbles, staring at his laptop screen. “I guess I thought you wanted me to hear.”
And I don’t even know what to say about that, so I turn my attention back to Ralphie and his family. I honestly do not understand this man. And I don’t understand why I want to understand him. I want to slap him and understand him and lick him and ignore him. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand myself anymore.
But I think I might care less about all of this once I’ve finished off this bottle of mediocre champagne.
Thirteen
Declan
THE BALLER EXPRESS
Maddie Cooper is fucking adorable and extra annoying when she’s tipsy, and it just makes me want to punch a wall and kiss her.
She isn’t trying to be adorable, but she is actively trying to annoy me. It’s the easiest job in the world, trying to annoy me right now. That shitty stretch limo did it. All of Youngstown is doing it. This terrible hotel is definitely doing it. But Maddie Cooper is making a special effort, now that we’re checked in, and for some reason it’s really doing it for me.
How sad of a lonely sack of shit do you have to be to get turned on by a woman who’s trying to annoy you?
“Are you going to call or at least text your family members to let them know we’re in town?”
“Absolutely not, and I forbid you to contact them.”
She doesn’t even roll her eyes at my use of the term “forbid.” That’s how annoyed she is with me right now. And I’m not even trying to annoy her. “Why not?”
“Because I agreed to come for dinner on Christmas Eve. I did not agree to spend over twenty-four hours with them, and that is what would happen if they find out we’re here. I’ll be working in my room all night. If you would care to join me for whatever subpar in-room dining they have to offer here, then you may.”
“No thanks.”
“Fine.”
“Great. Would you like me to order dinner to be served in your room?”
“Would you be ordering it as my girlfriend who’s pretending to care about me or as my assistant who did not get us the adjoining rooms I requested?”
“I’d be ordering it as the woman who plans on eating dinner in the very nice hotel restaurant and wants to make sure you stay in your room so you don’t ruin it for her.” She sticks her tongue out at me. Actually sticks her tongue out at me, and it’s somehow sexy and makes me want to impregnate her.
And it also makes me want to stay away from her because I’d just fuck everything up.
“I can order it myself, thanks. But don’t you dare eat dinner by yourself in that dress.”
That. Dress. That fucking sweater dress. Those fucking boots. Those fucking black tights or whatever you call those things that I can see through just a little bit and they make me want to rip them off her.
“I’m not going to hook up with anyone else while I’m with you here, Declan. But I am going to wear whatever I want, whenever I want to.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
She realizes she just said she isn’t going to hook up with “anyone else” and turns a bewitching shade of pink. “You know what I mean.”
“I always do, Cooper. Even when you don’t.”
“This building is so beautiful,” she marvels, trying to change the subject.
“This is
