Santa Baby: a Carelli Family Christmas Novella Page 2

“And when you knew it?” she asked.

  She paused in front of the door when I grabbed the handle, one black eyebrow lifted like she couldn’t move until I gave her a good answer. So, I did my best. “If I like his angle, then I thank him. If I don’t, I teach the fucker a lesson.”

  The eyebrow lowered, and there was no frown lingering on her face. I got that maybe she liked what I had to say. Maybe she liked the little possessive streak I had when it came to what I saw as mine. But the truth was, I made sure no woman was ever mine for long.

  “You know, you shouldn’t curse so much around babies,” she told me.

  That made me laugh, an honest burst of amusement I hadn’t felt in years. “You think he knows what I mean when I call someone a fucker?”

  She grinned, glancing down at the boy in her arms. “I think he knows more than any of us realize.”

  “All right then, Miss…whoever the hell you are. I promise not to curse around your kid…whoever the hell he is.”

  “Fine,” she said, smiling for the first time since I’d gotten a good look at her.

  One glance at that pretty smile had me thinking she should do that a hell of a lot more.

  She moved her hair behind her ear, slipping her gaze to the door where I had my fingers curled around the handle. “You gonna open it, Mr…whoever you are?”

  “Smoke,” I told her, waiting for the laugh I knew would come. Most women who didn’t know me, who knew nothing about me or my family, tended to laugh when they heard my name. I hadn’t met many of those, but it’d happened a time or two. “Smoke Carelli.”

  The name didn’t make her frown, but there was obvious recognition in her features. “I’m guessing your mama didn’t name you Smoke.”

  I shook my head. There wasn’t time for the long story of where I got that name. Besides, it was cold as hell out here.

  She nodded again. “Okay, fine then. Smoke.” She stretched out a hand, curling her sleepy-looking baby closer to her chest as she offered it to me. “I’m Maggie Ramirez, and this—” she moved the kid, his head wobbling against her collarbone before he blinked up at me “—is my boy, Mateo.”

  “Maggie and Mateo…Ramirez?” It was a question with a lot of meaning. If she had no man and the kid had her name, then there was no man at all and she was on her own. That explained the shitty uniform and shittier car.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet, but her chin lifted. “I don’t have a husband, and Mateo’s only got me.”

  “Well, come on, Maggie.” I opened the door, exhaling as the warmth from inside the restaurant began to chip away at the tightness in my fingers. “Tonight, you’ve both got a big family that’s gonna get all in your business.”

  “Really, that’s sweet, but I just need to borrow a phone to call my tía.” We moved through the lobby and were immediately drawn into a small crowd. My uncle Vinnie and cousin Leo were arguing about the Pats’ chances at the Super Bowl. Maggie didn’t need to hear that shit.

  “Where is she?” I asked, holding her out of the way of a server who charged from the kitchen with a tray of shots.

  “In the city.”

  I nodded for her to follow me behind the waiter but stopped when she tugged on my arm. “What’s the problem?”

  “You’re sweet, but all of this…” She waved to the small crowd of my relatives and friends who stopped in the middle of their conversations to stare at us. “This is a little overwhelming. I don’t belong here. This is a family dinner, and I’m a stranger to them. And my baby…”

  “Will get the attention of every woman in the room.” I stepped closer, hoping my voice didn’t have the same bossy tone my kid sister Antonia swore I could never get rid of. “It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re on your own.”

  She opened her mouth to argue but closed it when I touched her arm.

  “Call your tía, tell her what’s going on, but there’s no way you will get anywhere in this shit.” Maggie followed the small jerk of my chin when I nodded it toward the window behind her.

  In just the few minutes it took us to cross the street, the snow had fallen in sheets, so thick now that the sidewalks weren’t visible.

  “There’s so many of them,” she whispered, her eyes wide, gaze shooting around the crowd, those dark eyes getting bigger when someone laughed loudly and cackled behind me.

  “Yeah. And they’re a pain in the ass.” I turned, glancing over my shoulder to nod at Mrs. Jonah, a perpetually horny widow who owned the bar five blocks over, as she tried to get Antonia and her ex Luca to kiss. Something the man promised me he’d never do again.

  Luca glanced at me, shrugging, then distracted the old woman with a shot of vodka.

  “But,” I told Maggie, ignoring the look my sister was giving me and the one that followed from two of my aunts as I moved Maggie toward the kitchen, “you’ll never meet nicer people.”

  “Dimitri?” I heard, trying like hell not to grunt when my mother’s sister Maria called over the sound of laughter. “Who’s that with you?”

  “Incoming,” I warned Maggie, turning to greet my aunt. “Maria, you look bella.”

  She waved me off, not bothering to acknowledge the kiss I planted on her cheek as she focused her attention on Maggie and the squirming bundle in her arms. “Look at you. Theresa!” Maria called, her attention on the swinging door leading to the bustling kitchen. “Come look at this beautiful baby.” She brushed Mateo’s face, making low, cooing sounds I’d never witnessed from the grumpy woman once in my life. “Ah, sweet bambino, he’s so bello. How old?”

  “Six months,” Maggie said, her voice quiet. She didn’t loosen her hold on the baby, especially not when my entitled aunt held open her arms, seeming like she expected Maggie to hand over her son without question.

  “Maria, you can’t go taking babies away from their mamas. She has no idea who you are,” I told my aunt, not surprised when she waved me off.

  Then my aunt covered her mouth, her attention shooting between me and Maggie, then down at the kid. “Oh my God! Does your mama know?”

  “Know what?” For shit’s sake, the woman was crazy. I let a grunt fly, not giving a solitary shit if I hurt the woman’s feelings. “You serious?” I took a step back, eyes wide. “That’s not…”

  “Smoke isn’t my son’s father…” Maggie rushed out, like she was worried Maria would level her with a shitload of blame that wasn’t hers.

  “Of course, he isn’t,” I heard behind me, my stomach dropping when my mother approached. She was shorter and smaller than Maggie, but the look she gave her sister would have had even the meanest asshole pissing himself. “Maria, really. Now, who is this?” She faced Maggie, her attention landing on the nervous woman’s face, holding her by the shoulders. “Oh, aren’t you lovely? You know my son?”

  “No, ma’am. I only just met him. I got lost.” Maggie nodded to the window.

  My mother looked to the left, her attention catching on the snow and the blanketed streets before she made out the busted Monte Carlo. “On your own? With this one?”

  Maggie nodded, and my mother pressed a hand to her chest, like her heart had begun to race and her light touch would settle it.

  “And my son brought you inside?” Ma asked, raising an eyebrow while glancing at me.

  “More like…told me I had to come inside. But really, we can just sleep in the car. The heater works, and I’m sure the streets will be…”

  “Oh no. No, I could never let you do that.” Ma’s grip on Maggie’s shoulders tightened.

  If I knew my mother, she was making plans she intended to see through, and Maggie wouldn’t have much of a say in them. Once the woman started plotting, there wasn’t much of a point in trying to stop her.

  “So pretty, but how thin you are.” She snapped her fingers, as if something important had just occurred to her, and she turned to Maria. “Go fetch Antonia. Tell her to find something for…” She glanced at me, nodding to the woman standing in front of her.

  “Maggie, and
her son is Mateo. Maggie, this is my mother, Angelique.”

  “Ah,” Ma said, turning back to her little sister. “Tell Antonia to find something for Maggie to wear for dinner.”

  Maria nodded, turning away, and I could see the argument surfacing on Maggie’s tongue. Ma seemed to notice it too but cut the woman off by patting her hand and silencing her with a headshake.

  “It would be rude to refuse. It’s Christmas Eve, and you are alone. We will feed you and make you feel like one of us, but you must dress for dinner. It’s proper, yes?” When Maggie nodded reluctantly, Mama smiled, her face brightening as she looked down at the baby. “Oh, he is bello. Can I hold him? It’s been so long since I’ve held a baby.”

  “Sure,” Maggie said, her gaze following my ma as she took the baby, making small, low sounds that only he seemed to understand.

  “He is so strong and handsome. Reminds me of my Dimitri when he was little.” She rubbed Mateo’s cheek, her smile dimming as she moved her free hand away from the baby to smack me on the back of the head.

  I jerked, not expecting the attack. “What the hell?” I said, rubbing the already throbbing injury.

  “All my friends have grandbabies. I’ll be dead before you make me a nonna, you selfish little…”

  “Ma?” Antonia interrupted, nodding to Maggie. “Maria said you needed me?”

  “Ugh, can she do nothing right?” Ma kissed Mateo’s cheek, all evidence of her smacking me gone before she turned and placed the baby in my arms.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked, holding the kid out in front of me by his waist.

  “Hold him. Find something to feed him.” She turned me around, taking the diaper bag from Maggie and ignoring the woman’s complaints before she hooked the bag on my shoulder. “Maybe spending time with a bambino will warm you to the idea of giving your mama and papa grandbabies before they’re dead in the grave.”

  “Ma, you’re only sixty,” Antonia said, holding up her hands when Mama glared at her.

  I exchanged a look with my sister, nodding toward the kid, but she laughed at me, turning to follow our mother as she led Maggie toward the stairs to Antonia’s old apartment.

  “A little help here,” I called to my sister, waving the fussing kid at her.

  “Don’t look at me. You’re the oldest. You gotta go first.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight…” I kept my eyes steady. No blinking. No squinting. This guy could sense a bluff. He could smell fear. “I don’t like you.”

  The gurgle thing again. He’d been doing that shit for half an hour. Maria said they did that when they were teething, but I knew dick about all this shit. I only knew the little shit just ruined a $1500 suit, and there wasn’t a damn person here who seemed willing to take him off my hands.

  Not even my own men.

  “Mr. Carelli, I’m sorry. Your mother left strict instructions…” Dino had admitted when Mateo puked all over my jacket and I told the man to take the kid to one of my aunts or cousins so I could clean myself up. “We aren’t to let anyone but you hold that baby.”

  “My mother paying you now?” I asked, glaring at him.

  Dino had frowned, shuffling his feet. “No, sir, of course not, but she’s… Well, I gotta say, between the two of you, I’d rather not be on her shit list.”

  So, there I was, staring down a six-month-old, without my fucking jacket, sleeves rolled up to my elbows. I had a bowlful of mashed bananas Betty, the head chef, had whipped up for the kid in my hand, and I was glaring at the boy.

  “You don’t even have to chew it.” The kid slobbered, using his tongue and lips to release a spray of saliva. He laughed, a deep, surprised noise catching in him as he tried the sound again.

  The little asshole did it again, spraying banana across my cheek. I threw the bowl onto the table beside me, grabbing a towel to wipe my face clean. Mateo wasn’t concerned with anything but the new sound he seemed to have discovered, releasing one spit bubble after another over and over again.

  Then, he laughed.

  “Yeah, kid. You’re fucking hilarious.” I tossed the rag on the table, and I miscalculated my landing. The thing fell right across the baby’s face, covering it completely. “Shit. Sorry,” I said, jerking the towel off his face.

  For some reason, the kid found the sudden appearance of my face fucking hysterical. The laughter returned, those giant black eyes disappearing as he cackled and giggled and, fuck me, I couldn’t help it, that little shit had me laughing too. It was infectious, that small, wild laugh, along with those deep-set dimples.

  He only quieted when a loud hiccup unsettled him, and the smile disappeared from his face, like he had no clue what the hell that noise was that left his throat. Then, the scared, worried frown started up, and I grabbed him before the waterworks kicked in.

  “You’re good,” I told him, standing with him, copying the same rocking motion I’d seen Maggie do earlier. It seemed to work, and Mateo calmed, reaching up to grab hold of my collar until he loosened the chain around my neck.

  The crucifix was old, and he seemed fascinated by the small figure on the cross, so I didn’t take it from him. Instead, I just watched the boy, wondering what kind of asshole would let his woman and his boy out on their own to fend for themselves.

  Mateo shifted his gaze, pulling his attention from the crucifix to look up at me, his smile returning when he caught me watching him. Like he knew what a liar I was when I said I didn’t like his tiny ass.

  “What?” I asked him, adjusting the boy as I moved to the window along the back of the kitchen. The small staff continued to plate the food into serving dishes as I brought the baby to a quieter section, away from the ovens and the loud noise of conversation coming from the dining room.

  The kid still watched me.

  “You know,” I explained, like a baby could understand a thing I said, “you’re lucky you’re almost as cute as your mama, kid. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother.”

  He gurgled again, his grin widening when I shook my head at him. The dimples were deeper now, and his eyes almost disappeared when he flashed a toothless smile.

  “Don’t get ideas. Those dimples don’t do shit for me.”

  “Dimitri,” Antonia called from the door, and I turned, moving my chin to acknowledge her. “They’re ready. Bring the baby.”

  The servers carried the food from the kitchen, and Mateo’s gaze moved with each tray of pasta, ham, and fish as we walked toward the dining room. Ma had had the busboys position all the tables edge-to-edge, making one long table down the length of the entire restaurant.

  “Here,” Antonia said, reaching for Mateo when we made it to the table. “I’ll take him.”

  For some reason, I felt possessive over someone who wasn’t my family. “Fuck off,” I told her, smiling when she flipped me the bird.

  She shook her head, muttering something I knew she’d never say if Pop were around.

  “And stay the hell away from Luca.”

  Antonia laughed, looking across the table for the man in question. When she caught his attention, she nodded him over, motioning to the empty seat next to the one she’d chosen.

  Luca was too much of a chickenshit to look at me before he sat. I thought of calling him out, but my ma chose that precise moment to appear, pulling a very different-looking Maggie behind her.

  And then, I didn’t give a shit about Luca and Antonia, drooling babies, or Christmas Eve dinner.

  She was wearing a fitted red dress I remember calling indecent when Antonia wore it in public. But on Maggie, it was perfect—it fit her luscious, full curves, moving when she did. Ending mid-thigh, the dress gave a tease that there was so much more to the woman than a hard worker and a tired single mother.

  I lifted the baby when he wiggled in my arms. “Sorry, kid,” I told him, unable to keep my attention from Maggie as she walked toward me. “She’s got you beat.”

  Then I handed the boy over to Antonia, not waiting to see if she wanted him s
till or not, before I met Maggie by an empty chair, pulling it out for her.

  I liked the way her pretty face brightened and how she watched my hand on the back of the chair.

  “Um…gracias,” she said, sitting straight, looking more elegant than uncomfortable. She split her attention between Mateo, who was happily bubbling spit at Antonia and Luca, before she looked me over.

  “You look…beautiful,” I told her, leaning closer.

  “Oh. Um…” That blush grew redder, and this time, Maggie smiled. “Thanks, Smoke.”

  There was still a small look of hesitation on her face, along with a hint of worry. I knew that look. I’d seen it before. But I’d never been the one to put it on a woman’s face.

  Maggie went perfectly still when I stretched my arm around the back of her chair, angling closer. She smelled like the sweetest perfume. Her mouth was full and pink, her skin looked soft and warm, and I was not thinking of any woman but the one inches from me now.

  “I don’t pay compliments,” I told her. “When I give them, I mean them. And right now, I fucking mean it.”

  “So…you’re not…”

  “Angling?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her face relaxing, “that.”

  “No, I’m not angling.” I leaned back but kept my hand on her chair. “Not before dinner anyway.”

  “Friends,” my mother said, pulling my attention from the sweet smile on Maggie’s face. “Welcome, welcome! We’re so happy you’re here with us…”

  My ma was filling in for my father, who was off running an errand he wouldn’t tell anyone about, which pissed me off, but now I was too distracted by Maggie to let it bother me anymore.

  Ma repeated the same spiel Pop liked to make every year, and it was always good. Welcome everyone, thank them for coming, say a prayer, and then we’d eat.

  But tonight, as my mother spoke of family and friends, old and new, my attention wasn’t on her words or the familiar faces readying to celebrate. It wasn’t even on the smirk on my beautiful mother’s face as she paused in her speech to watch Maggie and me.

  At that moment, my mind was on one thing and one thing only—giving Maggie and Mateo the best Christmas they’d ever had.