Alina’s eyes widened. “You tattooed yourself?”
Actually, she’d tried that back in high school, a shooting star inside her forearm. The results were blurry and lopsided. She’d since had a professional clean it up.
“No, these are all done by professionals.” Might as well throw it out there—her career plans might provide the fuel Eddie needed to stage their breakup. “But I hope to become a tattoo artist one day.”
Alina pursed her lips. “In the old country, tattoos were for criminals, mafia. Bad dudes, you know?”
“You see?” Ma spread her palms wide.
“But not here.” Alina grasped Ma’s hand. “The young generation, they like to be colorful. I say, more power to them.” She leaned closer and examined the roses blooming across Rosie’s cleavage. “I wish I could be so daring.”
“You can start small.” Rosie winked. “Maybe a tiny flower on your ankle. Very delicate and feminine.” She’d tried to talk her mom into a mini tattoo, to no avail.
“So,” Ma fixed them with a stern teacher look. “How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Well, we—” She bit her lip. Already, she’d forgotten an important part of their cover story.
Eddie squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve been mooning over Rosie ever since she came to work here.” His gaze softened. “It wasn’t until last month she finally agreed to go out with me.”
That last bit was technically true, clever boy, since New Year’s Eve was just a few days ago. But had he really been crushing on her that long? Or was that just a face-saving lie?
“We’ve been getting to know each other at work,” she added. Mostly, she’d been getting to know how it felt to kiss him under the mistletoe. Really, she didn’t know much about Eddie at all.
“Well, Eddie.” Ma slapped the table. “Now that I’ve met your charming mother, we’ll have to get the families together. How about dinner on Saturday?”
Rosie shot Eddie a silent help me glance.
“We work on Saturday, Ms. Callas.”
“Lunch, then?”
Alina sighed. “Saturday is our busiest day, I’m afraid. We need Eddie at the shop.”
“Oh.” Ma frowned, then brightened and raised a finger. “How about—"
“Tell you what, Ma. Eddie and I will work out a time, okay?” How about never? Does never work for you?
Alina grinned. “Young people today, so independent. They don’t want their mamas interfering.”
Eddie wrapped his arms around Rosie from behind and murmured in her ear, “Great. Now our moms are BFFs.”
“They’ll forget about it once they sober up,” she whispered. “Okay, Ma, we have to get back to work. Let me call you a ride.”
“Nonsense,” Alina’s emphatic gesture nearly knocked their glasses to the floor. “Vadim will drop you at home. He’s coming to get me in—” She glanced at her watch. “Oh my goodness, he must be outside now.” She pulled her phone from her purse. “Yes, he’s here. Let’s go, Diana.”
Ma dropped two twenties on the table, and the two women shrugged into their coats.
“Mama, wait a minute,” Eddie called. “You never told me why you came to the bar.”
Alina’s forehead rumpled. “Why did I come to the bar? Ah yes, your cousin Irina is getting married next month. February sixth. Very sudden, you know?” She winked. “Tell your boss you need the day off. Rosie too.”
Out they went, giggling into the night.
Rosie gathered the empties onto her tray. “Guess we have to break up before the sixth of February.”
“Are you kidding? My cousin’s wedding will be a blast. Just hang in there until February seventh, okay?” He pecked her lips and trotted back toward the bar.
Rosie brought a shaky hand to her suddenly damp forehead. Make-believe dating a guy she never should have messed with? And their moms were drinking buddies now? And a wedding invitation? Just one hot, drunken night with Eddie had sent her life was spinning out of control.
Damned mistletoe.
Chapter Five
This midweek workout was either going to save Eddie’s sanity, or else kill him. Either outcome was better than the lovesick funk he’d marinated in since last weekend.
Jojo growled into Eddie’s ear. “You got this, little man. Gimme ten more.”
Despite the chilly temperature in Jojo’s garage, sweat soaked Eddie’s T-shirt as he dangled from the homemade pull-up bar. He shifted his grip and, with a grunt, heaved his legs up to chest level. His abs burned with well-earned, energizing pain, the kind that cut through the bullshit and anchored him in the moment.
Jojo, his equally mammoth brother Kai, and River chanted, “Six, five, four, three…”
With a grunt worthy of the beast he smelled like, Eddie powered out two more leg-lifts before dropping to the cement floor. Hands on knees, he gulped air.
Jojo pounded his back. “Feels good, don’t it? River, you’re up.”
Their self-appointed personal trainer put his brother and co-workers through this grueling workout twice a week, an hour of sweat and pain before Jojo’s shift as a phlebotomist at Tacoma General. Eddie loved the camaraderie of their makeshift gym, plus the bone-rattling death metal blasting from the ancient speakers, and the good-natured teasing. He couldn’t match Jojo and Kai’s hulking muscularity or River’s GQ physique, but the guys respected his determination. Not since high school wrestling had he enjoyed using his body this hard.
Well, except for New Year’s Eve, but he wasn’t going to think about that.
With a pained screech, River finished his set and dropped to the floor. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” He flexed and grunted. “Gotta keep in shape for our ladies. Right, peanut?”
“Don’t call him that.” Kai handed them smoothies the color of pond scum. “Pound for pound, Eddie’s stronger than all of us.” He slurped his drink, then raised an eyebrow. “You ever think about boxing, Eddie? You’d make a kick-ass welterweight.”
He chuckled grimly. “My parents would kill me.”
“Man, you’re too old to worry about that shit,” River swiped his sopping face on his Bangers’ hoodie.
“Shut up.” Jojo pitched a wadded-up towel at River’s head. “Some of us honor our parents.”
“Yeah,” Eddie grumbled. “Especially us only children. I don’t have
