Apples & Oranges (The This & That Series) (11 page)

I nodded. “Uh huh. Do you
wanna—”

Agnes popped up between us again, making Demo stumble
backwards. “Wasn’t that nice, you two?”

We just nodded once in unison. There was nothing to say. The kiss had been the equivalent of bringing gasoline to a brush fire, and judging by the wa
y Demo looked like he’d been kicked in the side of the head… he thought so, too.

Blinking, I tore my eyes away from him. “Thank you for coming over, Agnes. I’m sorry I scared you.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Not at all, dear. I’m just glad you weren’t cut into pieces. I don’t do the sight of blood at all.”

I chuckled, ignoring the heat positively pouring off Demo’s body. I would’ve felt it half a block away. He wanted me. And holy Hannah, I wanted him, too. “Me, too.”

“Now, I’m going home before my dance troupe drinks all the coffee.” She winked at me. “I hate it when that happens. Enjoy your night, you two.”

I glanced at Demo.
Oh I intend to.

I wasn’t letting him get away. He was coming inside so that I could see how much damage gasoline and a brush fire could do.

“Well, goodnight, kids.” She giggled, stepping off of my porch.

“Goodnight,” I called, before pointing at Demo. “You.”

He pointed to his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” My voice was hoarse. I guess
extreme horniness did that to a person. “Come inside.”

Demo’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead, and he put his arm around Agnes’ shoulders. “Why don’t I walk you to your door?”

My stomach dropped. “What? No. I can drive you home.”

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

“No.” Demo held up a hand. “I mean, no thank you. I’ll be fine.”

I opened my mouth. Then closed it. What just happened? Had he not felt that spark between us? What was his problem?

And with that, before I could protest, Demo and Agnes disappeared down my front walk.

Chapter Ten

              “Marisol, every time you come here, you get prettier. Do you know that?” Yiayia beamed at me as I entered the Triple D’s office with a tray of homemade caramel toffee latte cupcakes.

             
“I made these for you,” I told her, setting the tray down on the desk before her. “You know I’m trying to win you over with food, right?”

             
She picked up a cupcake and took a lick of the frosting. “Well you’re doing a good job of it.”
              “Does that mean I can have the recipe for you dolmades?”

             
Yiayia patted my cheek. “Not even close. You’ve got to be a part of the family first.”
             
I made out with your grandson last night, and contemplated what it would be like to lick caramel sauce off of his abs. Does that count?
             
“Fine,” I squeaked. “I’m considering that a challenge.”

             
She winked one of her crinkly eyelids. “I’m sure you do.”

             
“Okay, no recipe today.” I sat down across the desk from her and relaxed. “So, is Demo around? I didn’t see him under any cars out there.”

             
“No.” Yiayia shook her head. “He’s out picking up a tow clear on the north side of town. Why?” Her eyes widened. “Were you hoping to see him?”

             
My face heated. Something about this old broad chiseled through my cool exterior, and poked at my inner self-conscious, insecure geek. “No.” I said it too quickly, and I knew it. Yiayia’s smirk confirmed that she’d picked up on it, too. “What I meant was, I just wanted to pay him for his work on my car.”

             
“Oh, well I can help with that, dear.” She opened a file drawer and tugged out a manila folder with my name on it.

             
“No computer system?” I asked.

             
“No need.” Yiayia replied, tapping her temple. “Got all the client info right up here.”

             
I raised my eyebrows at her. “That doesn’t worry Demo? You know, in case…” Insert awkward pause here. I mean, come on, the poor lady wasn’t going to live forever! “You miss work, or something?”

             
“You mean, in case I die?” She deadpanned.

             
I cracked up. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it.”

             
“Why not? All of my kids and grandkids do.” She let her bony shoulders rise and drop. “No need to worry. I’ve got at least another five years before I kick the bucket.”

             
“How do you know?”

             
Again, she shrugged. “A psychic told me in 1974.”

             
“She told you when you were going to die?” I croaked.

             
“
He
, and yes. He told me exactly how and when I would kick the bucket.”

             
We sat there quietly. The only sounds in the office were the traffic going by outside and Yiayia’s chewing. Finally, I threw my hands up. “I can’t take it anymore. How are you going to die?”

             
She put down her half-eaten cupcake. “I thought you’d never ask. It will be fast and almost painless but quite dramatic. I’m going to have a massive heart attack in the European grocery on Selman avenue.”

             
I gasped. “That’s horrible!”

             
“No, it’s not,” she quipped. “I love that place. The owner gives me a discount because he thinks I’m cute.”

             
I cracked up. “He does?”

             
“Uh huh,” Yiayia said proudly, plucking up her cupcake. “He’s been after me since my Demetrious died, God rest his soul.”

             
“Wow. Go you!” I brushed some crumbs off of the front of my black shift mini dress. I’d only worn it one other time, and wound up in the back seat of a local congressmen’s limo afterward, so I’d secretly hoped for similar results when Demo saw me in it. Of course, he’d foiled that plan by
working.
“Why don’t you date him?”

             
She made a face. “He’s Russian. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just can’t see myself with anyone but my husband. And especially a non Greek.”

             
“Oh, I see.” Picking at my manicure, I thought about how to propose my next question. “So… does that rule hold firm for your whole Greek community?”

             
“No. Not anymore.” Yiayia waved a hand. “Nowadays, people date whomever they choose. Three of my children married non-Greeks. Though they eventually joined the church, so we got them in the end.” She winked at me. “It’s almost twice as many with grandchildren. Times are different now. People are a lot more accepting than they were when I was growing up.”

             
“That’s good.” When Yiayia’s eyes twinkled, I added, “I mean, you know, for your grandkids, and all.”

             
“Uh huh.” She tilted her head at me. “What is your heritage, dear?”

             
I swallowed a mouthful of frosting. “My father is Puerto Rican, and my mother is half English and half Cuban. My mother lives in California, and my father lives in Florida. I rarely see them.”

What was up with me when I was around this woman? Just being in
Yiayia’s presence was like downing a truth serum.

             
“Are you and Demo dating, Marisol?” she asked boldly.

             
No. But I’ve made a few porno movies in my head about him. Does that count?

             
“No.” I blinked at her, hoping to prove my nonchalance.

             
Yiayia narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? Be honest with me, young lady.”

             
“No, ma’am.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked away from her probing stare. “Our relationship is purely professional. There’s nothing going on between us. In fact, I’m pretty sure your grandson hates me.”

             
And until he pressed me against that doorjamb, I thought the feeling might be mutual… now all I can think about is how desperately I want to get him into a hot tub. Or a large bathtub.

             
I glanced at a candid shot of Demo, Yiayia, and some other scattered family members. Demo’s smile was wide and unabashed, and the picture appeared to have been taken years ago, so his hair was dark and cropped close to his head. His bare arm was slung over his grandmother’s shoulders, and his muscles were flexed and defined.

Aw hell, I’d settle for a deep puddle, for
pete’s sake.

“You’d be surprised with Demetrious.”
Yiayia polished off her cupcake, and folded the wrapper neatly. “Often times, when he acts like he hates someone, it usually means he likes them a whole lot.”

My heart skipped a beat. Apparently, I’d gone to bed a mature woman last night, and woken up a lovesick tween that morning. Go figure. “Well, then he must
really
like me.”

Yiayia
took another cupcake. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Excitement whirled through my gut. Maybe I would get that recipe after all. That was what was important, right?

The memory of Demo’s lips crushing mine, and his hands tangling in my hair flashed in my mind. The excitement in my stomach quickly caught flame.

Okay, so maybe I cared about more than just the recipe. So sue me.

“Can I ask a personal question, Yiayia?” I asked, grabbing my own cupcake, and tasting the frosting.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who beats around the bush, Marisol.”

Snorting, I shook my head. “That would be accurate.”

“Then shoot,” she said.

I took a deep breath. “Why is Demo so grumpy?”

“Oh, you noticed that?” She chuckled.

I gave her a sideways glance. “It’s hard not to.”

“His father was always gruff, too.”
Yiayia thoughtfully chewed her bite. “I suppose Demo was always fairly stoic. When he was a kid, he took sports very seriously and had a tendency to beat himself up when his team lost.” I looked up at a group of pictures in the far corner of the room, where a row of Antonopolouses were lined up in wrestling uniforms.

I craned my head to see it more closely, but
Yiayia interrupted my examination. “He really changed for the worse when Belinda left him, I suppose.”

“Belinda?” When she looked at me, I casually added, “Just curious.”

“You don’t know the story of Belinda White?” She tsked and licked frosting off of her fingers. “That girl did a real number on my grandson. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you.”

“Apparently you’re under the impression that Demo and I are
friends.” I tossed my hair. “We’re actually not compatible. At all.”

Until we’re making out.

She stared at me for a moment, then waved my words away. “Oh, don’t be silly. Of course you are. Opposites make the best pairs,
dontcha know?”

Something inside me stirred, and for a split second, I felt hysterically happy. Weird. “Okay, enough about that. Why don’t you tell me what happened with that bitch Belinda?”

Yiayia snorted. “I like you, Marisol.”

“I like you, too.” My heart swelled. The feeling was uncomfortable, so I jammed another bite of cupcake in my gullet. This wasn’t my grandma. I shouldn’t feel this way about
Yiayia. My grandmother was somewhere in California, probably sipping a strong drink and surrounded by men much younger than she.

Wait, that
was what I should’ve been doing. What the hell was up with this new side of me? Cupcakes and old ladies? I was losing my touch!

“Belinda was Demo’s high school sweetheart.”
Yiayia dropped her voice low even though nobody else was in the garage. “They went to all of their dances together, all of their proms. She’s in all of his high school pictures, and he even bought her a promise ring when they were seventeen.”

“A promise ring?” I snorted, but quickly shut up when she narrowed her eyes at me. “Sorry.”

“It was very sweet. You seem like a girl who needs a little sweetness in her life.”

Well, she had me there.

Yiayia adjusted her glasses. “You see, in our family, you grow up, you get married, you buy a house, then you have a family. There is no greater joy than in that family. Is your family close, Marisol?”

Shaking my head, I tried to appear nonchalant. “Not exactly.”

“All my grandson ever wanted was to have a wife and children to support. He wanted to be just like his father, who’d worked every day of his life to support
his
wife and children. It was very noble.”

I shifted in my seat. This was such a departure from my own family. I only saw my parents every
two years or so, and even then the visits were only long enough to eat an uncomfortable meal, then bail so I could go home to a fresh mojito to decompress. I’d overheard my father telling a friend that getting married and having a kid was his “worst mistake,” and I’d based my own attachment phobia on that one overheard conversation for years.

“After graduation, Demo proposed. Belinda said yes, and our families planned the wedding of the year. Her grandmother and I were on the
Bible auxiliary together at the church, so we were friends. We started making her dress from the fabric of both of our dresses. It was beautiful. And Demo’s parents took a second mortgage and rented the biggest ballroom at the Spokane River Inn for the reception. It cost them a fortune.”

“Pretty swanky.”
Lexie and I had catered a few events there, and they were nothing short of posh, to say the least. It seems the Antonopolous family had pulled out all the stops. “So what went wrong?”

“I’ll tell you.”
Yiayia leaned forward conspiratorially. “It was the night of the rehearsal dinner. We were all in the church, watching while all the groomsmen and bridesmaids lined up, when all of the sudden, Demo’s best friend, Allan, grabbed him by the collar and punched him right in the face. Right there at the altar!” My mouth dropped, and she just nodded. “I know. Well, Demo wasn’t expecting it, so he went down like a ton of bricks, blood coming out of his nose, and when he asked what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks what was wrong, guess what Allan said?”

“What?”

“He said that he’d always loved Belinda, and that she loved him.” Yiayia wrung her hands. “Allan said he couldn’t sit by and watch Demo take away the woman he’d loved since tenth grade. So we all sat there, waiting for someone to say something. Waiting for Belinda to send Allan away, or just
something,
you know?”