Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
She opens up the cooler and leans against the frame. “You rang?” Her smile is so damn big on her face. I could stare at it all day.
“It’s Sunday.”
She nods. “We’ve established that already.”
“Take the day off.”
“I can’t. I told you—”
I reach into my wallet, pull out a hundred-dollar bill, and place it into her hand. “Take this as paid time off and come with me to church.”
I need to expunge my sins. To make myself clean to be worthy of this treasure of a woman. I don’t know if that shit is real, but my ma believes in it. She lights a candle for me every time she goes to mass–twice a week.
It may not be real, but it seems like a nod in that direction is warranted. For Hannah.
Her eyes widen. “Church?”
“It’s Sunday. Church.”
“Now?”
I nod. “Mass is already over, but the doors will be open.”
She looks down at her clothing. “I need to go home and change.”
I take her by the hand and lead her away from the cooler. “Trust me. After the secrets and confessions this church has heard, the last thing we’ll be judged over is our clothing. Besides,” I press my lips to her forehead, “you’re beautiful.”
“I didn’t figure you for a church man.”
“I used to be,” I confess. “It’s been a long time. But it’s long overdue. Plus, I promised Father Fantoni I’d come by, and I haven’t yet. I may be a sinner, but I’m a man of my word.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Okay, let me go make sure we’re locked in the front.” She hurries to the front door and freezes with a gasp. I instantly reach for my gun but then realize it’s probably just another mouse.
“Armando,” she whispers, fear lacing her voice.
Pulling my gun, I rush towards her.
She points through a crack of the blinds and the door. “There’s a man outside.”
I release the safety, ready to defend the woman I— I see Marco on the other side.
Releasing the breath I’d been holding, putting away the gun, opening the door, and punching my cousin playfully in the arm, I say, “I could have shot you right there, man.”
“Leo and I told you we’d have extra eyes stationed.” Marco scans Hannah from head to toe, and I see approval in the devilish smile he offers.
“Why you? Not one of your men?”
Marco shrugs. “It’s Sunday. Most of the men are with their families today. I have nothing better to do. Besides, if you want something done right, do it yourself.”
Hannah clears her throat behind me, reminding me of my manners. “Marco, this is Hannah. Hannah, this is my cousin Marco.”
She extends her hand, and with the sweetest voice says, “Nice to meet you, officially. I remember your face from you shopping on occasion in the store.”
“You’re the owner now, right?” Marco asks.
“Yes.”
“We were just leaving. Going to St. Andrews. Care to come?” I ask him.
Marco chuckles. “If I step foot in that church, I’ll be struck down. It’s been so long since I’ve confessed that I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Then we can be struck down together.”
Marco’s eyes dart back to Hannah then to me. “Church, huh?”
“It’s Sunday,” I state.
“Yeah, I know what day it is.” Marco smiles. “Well then, church it is.” He directs his next comment to Hannah. “But I’m warning you, Hannah. Don’t stand too close to us. It may not be a pretty sight if we burst into flames.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hannah
“Good girls get ice cream after church,” Armando says as he leads me down the street hand in hand.
We just said our goodbyes to Marco. It took Armando practically threatening the man to leave us alone for a few hours. Armando promised that we’d head back to my apartment and stay put, so I’m confused as to why we aren’t heading home.
“Growing up, my mother used to always reward me with ice cream if I was good during church service,” he adds. He looks down at me and winks. “You were good.”
My body lights up, feeling warm and fuzzy. We’re holding hands like a couple, walking under the sunlight to go get ice cream. It’s like we’re on an official date. We’re spending a leisurely Sunday together. Everything feels so normal and so right.
The ice cream shop is only a block away, and the minute I see it, I’m in love with the charm. The little shop is painted a pastel pink and white, with a giant ice cream cone sign hanging over the entrance. The air inside is cool and sweet, and I can hear the gentle chime of the bell above the door as we walk in.
The quaint space has a vintage feel to it, and the aroma of freshly made waffle cones hits us the moment we enter. The place is bustling with people, but we manage to find a free table in the corner. The sound of a guitar being played fills the air, and I notice a young man sitting in the corner, strumming away on his instrument.