Hand Tossed Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Abby Knox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Cover Girl Design

  Summary

  Diana

  First thing to know about me? I don’t need an older man with money to solve my problems. And yet, men my own age seem to constantly disappoint, mistreat, and even get me into trouble with the law. My family has helped me before, but I’m determined to stand on my own two feet this time. I’m getting a second job and I’m going to dig myself out of my worries, no matter what it takes. My new boss, however, has other plans. He doesn’t understand that my problems are none of his business, and I don’t understand his motives. He’s going to have to convince me there’s more to him than just a guy with impressive moves in the kitchen.

  Leo

  Life has been good to me so far. My successful pizzeria is the talk of the town and I have everything a man could need or want. What I don’t have is a good enough reason to show up single to the family reunion. Again. Finding true love is not all that easy when all I do is work. Turns out, I don’t need to try to find it, because when Diana walks into my restaurant looking for a second job, I’ve found my missing piece. Everything about us makes sense, and I’m determined to show her I’m more than just the guy holding the dough; I’m going to be there for her, through thick and thin.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More by Abby Knox

  Chapter One

  Diana

  “Mom’s going to lose her shit,” she says.

  I touch my newly dyed jet-black hair as

  I look back at my sister Chloe on the video call.

  At 25, I’ve always been the black sheep of the family. I may as well own it.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Chloe laughs, “I will. How about I’m pregnant, and you’re the first to know.”

  I have to try hard not to roll my eyes. “Again!?” I try to sound happy for my favorite sister, but it comes out a little too exasperated. I mean, this is baby number three for her, and my next older sister, Cara, just had baby number two.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt five times over,” I say. “I’m too young for this.”

  Chloe clucks at me. “Next time, try, ‘Congratulations, Chloe,’ or ‘wow, I’m so excited to welcome the little one into the family.’ This is what normal people say when they hear baby news.”

  Chloe is the only sister who can speak to me like this without making me want to scratch her eyes out. Cara, the goody-two-shoes of the family, always made me appear extra troublesome by comparison. I came into the world screaming, and I’ve never stopped causing drama. That’s what my mother likes to tell me.

  I have to say, though, after marrying Dad’s best friend four years ago, Cara sure took the focus off of me for a while. I guess I should thank her for that.

  The truth is, I’m excited for Chloe. I love her kids. I’m just sad they’re all in England, and I’m stuck here in the suburbs, still unsure what to do with my life.

  I just can’t seem to stop getting into trouble.

  “At your age, the shenanigans aren’t cute anymore,” Mom said the last time we had Sunday night family dinner.

  Harsh, but she’s right. And she doesn’t even know the half of it.

  I know if I said the word, Chloe would let me stay with her in England and disappear from my problems for a while. But I can’t do that without a work visa. Or with the criminal record I currently have. Fucking Gary.

  Everyone thinks I’m such a rebel, but the truth is, I just keep meeting the wrong people. I attract losers. One after another, men screw me over. Cheat, destroy my credit, get me in trouble with the law.

  “I’m happy for you guys. Really,” I say, grateful for the lag in the FaceTime call that hides the wistfulness in my voice. “As soon as I get my shit together, I’ll be expecting some super-posh hand-me-downs for my own offspring,” I tell her.

  No one knows when that will be. Not even I know when my shit will get sorted out. If I asked Chloe for money, she would help me immediately. And so would Cara. Neither Phillip nor Michael, their husbands, respectively, would bat an eye at the expense it would take to pull me out of my misery.

  Neither would my mom and dad. But those two? If I spilled the whole truth of my situation, I’d have to look at their disappointed faces. My heart can’t take it. Even if the charges against me are a huge misunderstanding of the situation. Mom and Dad didn’t believe me that my grade-school nemesis started a fight by scuffing up my brand new sneakers, because my nemesis ended up worse off than I did. Dad had to write a check to the little fiend’s dad to cover the cost of stitches in the emergency room after I pushed her off the merry-go-round. That incident was the start of it all.

  Then a few years back, when my boyfriend cheated on me, I set his car on fire. Mom and Dad took me in and helped me navigate court appearances. I think they both secretly took my side on that one, for once.

  Time after time, they have cleaned up my messes, quietly accepting that I was at fault. I was a terror at home with my sisters, so why should I be different in school?

  If any of my family members knew the extent to which I’ve gotten myself buried in court fees, lawyer fees, and back rent after this latest incident, they would jump to help me in a heartbeat.

  But I’m tired of being that person. I’m determined to handle all of this on my own.

  “Oh, I wish you would hurry up,” Chloe says, batting away a Nerf ball. Off-screen, some little monster laughs. Chloe looks off in that direction and shouts, “I told you two no Nerf inside the house!”

  She turns back to me and pleads, “I want Katie and Rufus to grow up being best friends with all their cousins.”

  I sigh and nod, wondering how I would ever meet a nice enough man to help me make mine and my sister’s dreams come true. Nice men aren’t interested in a girl with a checkered past.

  Maybe I should try artificial insemination and cut out the middle man altogether. Yeah right. Try affording that one on a cheap motel housekeeper’s wages. A cheap motel that doesn’t even let me live there rent-free just because I work there.

  Which reminds me, I need to hang up the phone and apply for a second job.

  “Good luck!” Chloe waves. I blow kisses at Chloe and the twins, who have appeared on screen to say goodbye to their Aunt Diana.

  Moments later, I’m in my beat-up Ford Fiesta and on the road to Leo’s Pizzeria to interview for the delivery driver position. I pray to whoever will listen that I can work there just long enough to earn some extra tips to earn first and last month’s rent and move out of the fleabag motel.

  And then, I pray some more. This time, that I won’t end up delivering pizza to a police officer.
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br />   Technically, I’m not supposed to be driving a car due to the ongoing case against me. But I know this town’s byways and alleyways better than the cops, so I’m pretty sure I can make this work.

  What could go wrong, right?

  A lot, Diana. A whole hell of a lot could go wrong.

  Chapter Two

  Leo

  I draw a line in the sand at illegal activity at my establishment. And my grandfather knows it.

  Giving him my final answer to his request, I crank up the opera on my restaurant sound system to drown him out.

  Pops should know by now that neither I nor anyone else in the family wants anything to do with the illegal poker games that Pops has gotten himself into. My two brothers’ security firm, Parisi International, has been busy enough trying to stay on the good side of the cops who throw them a bone once in a while, and none of us need any funny business.

  My grandfather replies by launching a tirade about what I owe him. I go back to tossing my famous pizza dough and drowning my soul in Pavarotti while he rants.

  I can’t make out exactly what he’s saying anymore because I’m in the zone, and nobody and nothing can harm my zen.

  They all try. Pops, my brothers, my sisters, my ma. Everyone. They don’t understand why I work my ass off in the food industry. It’s tougher than keeping tabs on a bunch of novice gumshoes, that’s for sure. But office work doesn’t interest me.

  Pizza is an art. Kneading the dough, whirling it in the air until it gets to just the proper thinness, and creating world-class food is my art. At the age of 35, I can’t imagine doing anything else.

  Pizza and occasional trips into the city to see some opera—that’s all I need to be happy. Entertaining the dinner crowd with my over-the-top dough throwing isn’t a bad gig either. I admit it; it’s good for the ego as well as fun. What could be better than feeding people? Just like my brothers, I, too, have an instinct to take care of people.

  When he seems to have calmed down, I turn down the music so I can hear. Pops reminds me, “Family is more important than work. This could all go away someday. Look what happened to your cousin’s dry-cleaning business.”

  I shake my head. Pops fails to mention that the laundry business was literally being used to launder his profits from the illegal gambling, and it got raided by the cops.

  “It’s just a friendly game of poker among old pals!”

  I brighten up. “Oh, if that’s the case, then you can use your house. I’ll even cater it for you.”

  He wags his finger at me. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

  I laugh and continue whacking the tight ball of dough against the worktop.

  “I think we both know why that is, Papa,” I say, pushing the dough across the work surface a little too aggressively. My grandmother would suffocate him in his sleep if he brought his bullshit into her house.

  “If you won’t help, consider yourself disowned….”

  He goes through this once a month or so, then he wears himself out and leaves me alone for another month.

  Pops shuffles off, and I crank the music back to my preferred volume, just in time for my sister Vicki to call me.

  “Are you coming to the family reunion?”

  “I have to work,” I say, holding the phone between my chin and my shoulder as I continue to work the dough.

  “It’s your restaurant.”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty much what I live and breathe.”

  “If you got into the family business, you could have ten private investigators reporting to you, and you could just cash a check and get on with your life. Then you could come with us to the family reunions whenever you wanted.”

  “Vicki, I gotta go.”

  “Oh, while I have you on the phone, can I place an order?”

  Chuckling to myself, I scribble down her order. Family and friends love to try to get to the head of the line.

  I hang up the phone with my sister, and I’m about to turn up the Pavarotti again when I hear something else that makes my fingers pause on the volume button.

  A woman’s voice. A low, slightly husky voice full of melody and mystery and a hint of trepidation. A voice that could convince me up is down and the sky is purple.

  Who is that? I have to know.

  I spin around and peek out the kitchen door, scanning the dining area. Toby’s interviewing

  a prospective delivery driver, and running through the usual list of questions.

  “Do you have a license and a reliable form of transportation?”

  “I do. Yep, I most certainly do.”

  There are very few people in this world that could actually make me turn down Pavarotti.

  I need to hear more. I need to get a look at her.

  Easing around the corner, I see her—the most striking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on is applying for a job as a delivery driver in my restaurant.

  Her body language alone announces that she needs this job in a bad way. Her hand fidgets with her long jet-black hair that hangs down the back of a slightly-worn blazer that looks two sizes too large for her frame. Oh, she’s definitely going to be working for us. Immediately.

  “We’ll have to run a background check, of course, then get back to you.”

  I step forward and hold out my hand. Toby sees me and says to the woman, “Oh, excuse me a minute.”

  Realizing what I want, he hands me the job application that the woman has just filled out.

  I take the paper, and she turns around to look at me. She levels me with a grayish blue gaze, an arresting color against the layered mop of blue-black hair.

  Perched on a barstool, I can see a chest tattoo peeking out of the tee-shirt she wears under her blazer. I can’t tell for sure but from here the tattoo looks like a skull filled in with rainbow colors.

  The two of us lock eyes, and it’s all over for me.

  I don’t care about boss/employee ethics. Suddenly it seems time for me to have a life outside of work.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever believed in love at first sight, but it happened that way for my Pops and Grandma. For all his faults, he did one thing right by spotting the love of his life at a casino in Vegas fifty years ago and going for it.

  Maybe it is real. Love at first sight happens in opera all the time. Well, so does dying of consumption, curses, and ghosts.

  If it’s not love at first sight, it’s got to be something. I need to know this woman, and the only way my lightheaded brain knows how to make that happen is by giving her the job. That will literally keep her in my contacts. Ethics be damned.

  If all goes well, if my gut is right, maybe I’ll even have a date for the family reunion this time.

  Maybe for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Three

  Diana

  “Come with me, please.”

  The deep, gravelly voice comes from the man in the apron who has peeked out of the kitchen. Oh, I’ve seen this man before, tossing dough around the kitchen like it’s a freakin’ frisbee.

  Right away, I can see he’s a guy who takes no shit. I rub my thumb in the center of my palm, a nervous tic I’ve developed when I’m not telling the whole truth. Can he tell I wrote some bullshit on my job application?

  I may have fudged a little on my interview. Technically I do have a license. It’s a suspended license, but I’m hoping to clear that up as soon as possible. If that weasel ex of mine, Gary, ever shows his face.

  Hesitantly, I stand and follow the man to his office, which is through the kitchen and down a small dark hallway at the back of the restaurant. When it comes to men, my tattered instincts tell me maybe it’s not the best idea to go into a dark hallway alone with a strange man. But to my relief, he leaves the door open and sits far away from me, on the other side of an ugly metal desk. While I sit there in silence and he glances through my papers, I notice his hair. Thick and cropped short, the dark waves are just the kind women love to run their fingers through. His expressive eyebrows say more than the act
ual words that come from his mouth. He has wide, strong shoulders, almost but not quite like a bodybuilder. He’s not exceptionally tall—about my height— but sturdy, a little bit of a soft belly, which I am about eighty percent certain is covered in thick dark fur that would be equally as tempting to run my fingers through. Well, not my fingers, per se. But someone’s. He wears no wedding ring. Despite the circumstances and forgetting how much of a mess I’ve made of my life, I still feel a little jolt of happiness that he might not be married.

  I can’t help myself. “Nice office. No photos of your wife.”

  “No, not yet.”

  If Leo unsettled me a minute ago with his orders to follow him alone to his office, the “not yet” with, a slight arc in his eyebrows, screams danger. I’m in freefall without a parachute. Why? How does he transmit a thousand messages with so few words? How does he make me feel all at once that he knows why I’m asking the question, that he forgives me for being nosy, that he’s flattered, and that I have something to do with the “not yet” part.

  Is this a job interview, or is it some other kind of interview?

  “So. Diana.”

  My spine straightens. Leo’s gaze almost feels like a physical presence itself. I can’t not make eye contact. It’s unnerving, even though he’s pleasant enough to look at.

  “Diana. It’s a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is it a family name?”

  “No, my mom chose it for me because I was born the day after the…you know.”

  Leo’s brow furrows like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “After what?”

  “After the princess died. Mom couldn’t decide on a name, and then that car accident happened. So, she named me after her.”