Christmas in Coconut Creek (Dirty Delta, #1)(74)

That was never going to happen again.

“Have you heard any news?” my mom asked excitedly.

“Nothing yet. But if I left Florida, who would make me clam sauce on Christmas Eve?” I walked over to the kitchen table and tried to dig my fingers into the uncovered bowl of calamari my mother was filling and got a swat on the hand instead.

“You worked so hard, Francesco. Your back is better. The doctor said you’re brand new, didn’t he?” She rubbed her dainty fingers down my spine and gave me a good pat right above my tailbone where there was a small, faded pink scar.

“Something like that,” I deflected. “Like I said, I haven’t heard anything yet, and I might not be the right fit for the program anyway. I haven’t flown since…”

“You’re the best fucking pilot,” Addy cut me off.

“Adriana!” My mother swatted her then as well and I stuck my tongue out.

“You two will be the first to know,” I promised them, squeezing each woman into my side and kissing them on the top of the head. “Now, put this down for a minute and come outside.” I helped my mother out of her dusty apron, throwing it haphazardly onto the counter. “I have gifts.”



The tailgate of my truck dropped open with a creak and I was pleased to see my jigsaw puzzle of potted plants and bags of soil weren’t scattered across the bed. Some petals were a little worse for wear but what was nature if not a little wonky?

Addy whistled lowly, the corners of her lips tugging into an impressed smile as my mother followed her down the driveway. Not many things in life stuck so solidly in my memory as my mother’s happiness. Especially in the years since I joined the service. Every time the soft wrinkles around her eyes creased, and the honeyed hazel of her irises brightened, I cataloged it like a scrapbook page.

“I figured we could get the garden planted again.” I gestured to the truck. “I’ll do the dirty work, of course. We still have some shovels in the shed, right?”

“Yes,” Mom murmured, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You picked all the best ones. The pentas are my favorite; they attract the butterflies.” She dipped her head and stuck her nose into the star-shaped pink and red flowers, smelling the nectar. “I love it so much, honey.”

Her glossy gaze penetrated a locked chamber of sentiment inside me, stinging my nose with unshed emotion. I cleared my throat, trying hard not to give in to the weaker, hidden side of my grief before it reared its head.

“I’ll get started after dinner. Should only take a few hours. I brought some old newspaper and cardboard boxes I’m finally getting rid of from back when we bought the house.”

“You should keep those handy,” Addy suggested. “To pack away all five of your shirts and the one hat you own for Colorado.”

“I’ll just wear them all on the flight. Problem solved.” I hooked my sister’s elbow and deposited her in front of the truck’s rear door. “I didn’t have time to wrap anything,” I said. “Save the fucking turtles or some shit though, right?”

She pushed up on her tiptoes, trying to see over my shoulder into the cab.

I turned back around with an arm full of oil paints and a rolled palette of expensive hog bristle brushes. Then went back for the several different-sized canvases that had done all they could to prevent me from using my back window on the ride to Coral Grove.

“It’s nothing crazy,” I said. “I figured you were probably due for some new stuff.”

My mother and sister stared at one another with the same owlish commiseration. Their eyes held a secret conversation that I was lost to. Eventually, Addy turned her attention back to me and grinned. “What’s her name, Frankie?”

“What?” I choked on a laugh, looking away.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone, Frankie?” my mother added.

“I’m not.” I shrugged, bumping the door closed with my hip and walking toward the hatchback of Adriana’s SUV. “What’s going on with the two of you?”

“Bullshit!” Addy followed hot on my heels, inserting her petite frame between me and the trunk. “When did you meet her?”

I easily lifted my sister under the arms, dropping her back down with our wide-eyed mother so I could start loading the canvases for her to take to her own apartment. “Meet who?” I played stupid, schooling my face into a brick of indifference.

“The girl that told you exactly what to get us for Christmas.” She poked my arm.

I was apparently as transparent as a glass vase.

“Why didn’t you bring her here?” My mother was at my other side, caging me in like I was a misbehaving dog and they were both trying to figure out what I had in my mouth.

“Is it so hard to believe that I would buy the perfect presents for my family, whom I love and know better than anyone else on this planet?”

“Candles, Francesco.” My sister huffed. “Every single year I expect a candle and a card, sometimes a coffee mug. One year you got real crazy with a T-shirt.”

I pouted. “You loved that T-shirt.”

“I did,” she agreed. “Now spill it.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“She’s not from here,” Adriana guessed.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lifted my hat, running my fingers through the thick waves. Damn, I needed a haircut. “You think I need a haircut?” I asked no one in particular. Anything that would get me out of the current conversation.