Hot Momosa: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 4) Read online

  Hot Momosa

  Kathryn M. Hearst

  HOT MOMOSA.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kathryn M. Hearst. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Excerpt from GIN & TROUBLE copyright @ 2020 by Kathryn M. Hearst

  Worldwide Rights. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  First Edition published by Wyndham House, Inc. February 2020.

  www.kathrynmhearst.com

  Cover art designed by Dar Alexander, Wicked Smart Designs

  Editor Holly Atkinson, Evil Eye Editing

  Proofreader Book Nook Nuts Proofreading

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Leo

  2. Dahlia

  3. Leo

  4. Dahlia

  5. Dahlia

  6. Leo

  7. Dahlia

  8. Leo

  9. Leo

  10. Dahlia

  11. Leo

  12. Dahlia

  13. Leo

  14. Dahlia

  15. Dahlia

  16. Leo

  17. Dahlia

  18. Leo

  19. Dahlia

  20. Leo

  21. Dahlia

  22. Leo

  23. Dahlia

  24. Leo

  25. Dahlia

  26. Leo

  27. Dahlia

  28. Leo

  29. Dahlia

  30. Leo

  31. Dahlia

  32. Leo

  33. Leo

  34. Dahlia

  Also by Kathryn M. Hearst

  About the Author

  For Lawrence…who calls me his Hot Momosa. I love you, dad bod and all.

  1

  Leo

  Good Catholics had kids. Loads of them. Heck, going forth and repopulating the earth was practically a commandment. Unfortunately, the priests never mentioned how to survive a legion of munchkins armed with sippy cups and Legos.

  Kids, ranging in age from two-months to seventeen years, had invaded my parents’ backyard. While I loved my nieces and nephews, swimming in the sea of munchkins made me miss another little boy. A little boy with my eyes who would likely never meet this half of his family.

  “Some uncle you are, late for my son’s first birthday.” Gabe handed me a beer and a multicolored hat.

  I took the bottle and ignored the ridiculous, cone-shaped, monstrosity. “I got hung up at the hotel.”

  I’d spent hours going over the financials, dealing with pool maintenance, and approving the new marketing campaign. It was hell, but the place was mine free and clear.

  “You know what they say about all work and no play.” He chuckled, but it ended with a sigh. “How’s business going?”

  “Can’t complain. Both the hotel and the restaurant turned a sizable profit last quarter.” Thanks in no small part to me working my ass off twenty-four/seven.

  “Good. My bar is finally above water, and to hear Enzo tell it, business has never been better at his restaurant.”

  I glanced at our younger brother, Marco, and his new baby. Twelve months ago, he’d pulled the intellectual equivalent of a ninja move and freed us from the Sicilian mafia. Marco himself hadn’t been so lucky. Not only had he been forced to stay in the mob, he’d ended up taking the position as capo of the Marchionni family.

  Regardless of his fate, I had a hard time feeling sorry for him. As a member of the Fratellanza, or ruling body of the Cosa Nostra, he had power, more money than God—and because he was a lucky SOB—a gorgeous wife and newborn daughter. Life might have handed him lemons, but he’d carved out the seeds and planted an entire fucking orchard.

  As for the rest of us…we were adjusting.

  Gabe clamped a hand on my shoulder and nodded toward the festivities. “It’s hard to believe Rocco’s already a year old.”

  “No kidding.” I hadn’t spent nearly enough time with the little guy, or any of my nieces and nephews, but I had my reasons for keeping my distance. Reasons like they reminded me of my biggest mistake and deepest regret.

  As if he’d read my mind, Gabe asked, “Seen Dahlia lately?”

  “Not since she started dating that jackass.” I downed half my beer and walked outside. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Gabe, not precisely. He’d always been more like a best friend than a brother. For years, we’d been inseparable, but our lives had gone in two completely different directions.

  Gabe and Maggie were the freaking picture of domestic bliss. They had the white picket fence, the dog, and five kids—including the three they’d inherited when our oldest brother, Joe, had been murdered. On the other hand, the love of my life was dating a douchebag politician and raising my secret baby on her own. Sure, Dahlia and I had agreed to keep our son’s paternity quiet for his safety, but things had changed.

  Hell, everything changed the day I walked away from the mob.

  Gabe followed me to the kid-friendly buffet. “Then it won’t interest you to know… She’s going to be here today.”

  My pulse raced as if he’d slammed a syringe of adrenaline into my chest. I turned from the mac and cheese and chicken nuggets and stared. “Dahlia is coming here?”

  “Maggie spoke to her this morning.” He scratched his jaw, a sure sign he had more to say… More to say that I wouldn’t like. “She’s bringing a plus one.”

  “A plus one?” I hadn’t met Dahlia’s new man, but I’d seen pictures of them together online, on the news, and splashed across the tabloids in the supermarket checkout lane. The guy looked like a Politician Ken Doll, only with less personality. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand the media’s fascination with a presidential candidate’s daughter and a state senator. Then again, how many politicians had daughters who looked like Dahlia?

  Why on earth would she bring Harrison-fucking-Meriwether to the party? It made zero sense. She had to know I’d be here. Unless…her plus one was a two-and-a-half-year-old who looked a lot like me.

  Fuck, that’s worse. Ma will lose her shit—and she’s not the only one. As much as I wanted the world to know Gunnar was my son, this wasn’t the time to spring it on my family.

  Dahlia and I had made a career out of convincing everyone, including my family, we were just friends, best friends, and strictly platonic. Coming clean about years of lies wasn’t a rip-the-Band-Aid-off kind of thing. It’d take time and planning.

  Gabe waved his hand in front of my face. “Are you okay, man?”

  “Starved, but I can’t stomach eating off the kiddie menu. What the hell were you guys thinking serving this crap?” My voice came out louder and sharper than I’d intended. So much so, people glanced in our direction.

  He nodded toward a second food table piled high with swanky grown-up alternatives to the kid’s food. Lobster mac and cheese replaced the orange goo-covered shells, and there were pecan crusted chicken breasts with apricot sauce instead of nuggets. In addition to the froofroo items, our mother had prepared several traditional Sicilian dishes, including my favorite, Sciusceddu. The mere sight of the little meatballs made my mouth water.

  Biting back a sigh, I said, “Sorry I snapped.”

 
“Yeah, well, it’s hard to see what’s in front of you when your head’s up your ass.” Gabe folded his arms. “And I’m not talking about the menu.”

  “Let it go.” I strode across the lawn to the adult buffet and loaded my plate. With any luck, I’d scarf down my food, kiss the birthday boy, and get the hell out of there before Dahlia, and whoever-the-hell she was bringing, showed up.

  Never one to take a hint, Gabe followed me. “It’s been a year, Leo.”

  “I’m aware.” I glanced down at my lunch and wondered where my appetite had gone. Ten seconds before, my stomach had growled loud enough to wake the dead.

  Leaning close, he whispered, “Talk to her. You two belong together.”

  “Did you miss the part where she’s seeing someone else?” I marched back into the house and unceremoniously dumped my plate in the kitchen trash can.

  A female gasped behind me. “Leo?”

  My name on Dahlia’s lips made my heart lurch as if it planned to burst out of my back like the alien in a Sigourney Weaver movie. I turned and forced my voice to remain neutral. “Dahlia.”

  I’d grown so used to seeing photos of her in business suits with her hair pulled back, I’d almost forgotten how stunning she looked in normal clothes. Her skinny jeans showed off her mile-long legs, and the fitted T-shirt hugged her chest. She wore her jet-black hair down and hadn’t bothered with makeup—exactly the way I liked her…or used to like her.

  “It’s been forever.” Dahlia glanced away.

  My God, I’ve missed her.

  “Almost a year.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her and begging for a second chance like a middle-schooler with his first crush. Then again, Dahlia had been the first, and only, woman I’d ever loved—as in I’d fallen ass over tea-kettle for her.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “How have you been?”

  “Busy with work.” I rested my hip against the kitchen counter. “How are things going with your father’s campaign?”

  “Chaotic.” Dahlia tilted her head and stared as if I’d spoken in another language. In a way I guess I had. We’d never been the type of couple to waste time with small talk.

  Is this the new us? Is this how it’s going to be? Chit chat with me while she has real conversations with the other guy?

  She glanced around as if searching for something to say or maybe an escape route. “How’s your dad doing? Did he fly in from Sicily?”

  “He’s hanging in there, but his doctors didn’t think it was a good idea for him to travel.” My chest ached like it did every time someone mentioned my father’s health.

  Dahlia nodded and dipped her chin.

  It’d been two years since he’d been diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, and eighteen months since he’d made the decision to stop treatment. No one had expected him to live as long as he had, but he’d made a career out of proving people wrong.

  Time to change the subject.

  It struck me as odd that she was alone. Call me curious, or masochistic, but I had to ask. “Did you bring Harrison?”

  “No.” She sighed and opened her mouth as if to say more, but I cut her off.

  “When Gabe told me you had a plus one, I thought it was either Senator Ken Doll or Gunnar. My vote was for the kid.”

  She shook her head so quickly I worried she’d pulled a muscle. “Harrison had last-minute plans, and you know it’s not a good idea to bring Gunnar here.”

  I held up my hands. “I know. I know. He looks too much like me. I get it, but you can’t hide him from your friends forever. I don’t know how you’ve managed to pull it off this long.”

  “It hasn’t been easy, especially now that everyone is married and/or having babies.” Dahlia stared out the patio doors. “Which is one of the reasons I’m moving to Baton Rouge.”

  The news hit me like a right-hook to the jaw. On the surface, it made sense. Dahlia’s father was in an all-out battle to win the Democratic nomination for the presidency. She’d spent the past few months working on his election campaign. However, I knew her family’s deepest darkest secrets. Governor Waylon Calhoun might have been a great guy, but he and the First Lady of Louisiana absolutely hated each other.

  Dahlia had always sworn she’d never move home and expose our son to her parents’ arguing.

  I studied her body language but couldn’t get a read on what was going on in her head. “Not with your parents, right?”

  “No.” She sighed. “I’m looking at condos on the other side of town.”

  Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better. I still hated the idea. “I want to see Gunnar before you move.”

  She frowned. “Why now, after all this time?”

  “Because he’s my son.” And I love you both.

  “A son you haven’t spent time with in almost a year.” She rested her hands on her hips.

  Though misguided, I understood her skepticism. As far as she knew, I hadn’t visited Gunnar since I’d returned from Sicily thirteen months prior. What she didn’t know was that I’d bribed his nanny to bring him to my place damned near every day.

  Dahlia moving to Baton Rouge would make seeing him difficult, to say the least.

  “About that…” I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye.

  I’m a moron.

  When I’d sworn the nanny to secrecy, I thought I was doing the right thing for Dahlia. However, I’d overlooked a few crucial flaws in my plan. First off, I never should have snuck around behind her back. Second, by doing so, I’d led her to believe I was a shitty father. And last, but certainly not least, standing in the same room with her made it impossible for me to lie to myself about my motives. I’d been avoiding her.

  Call me a coward, but I couldn’t stand seeing her happy and knowing another guy had put the smile on her face. That was my job, damn it.

  She must have noticed the debate going on inside me because she narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

  I had to tell Dahlia the truth, even if it meant she went ballistic. I’d endure anything as long as she didn’t think of me as a deadbeat dad.

  Running my hand over the back of my neck, I said, “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve seen Gunnar.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Bracing myself for impact, I said, “I’ve spent quite a bit of time with him over the last year.”

  Dahlia flashed me a smile and shook her head. “Is that why the nanny insists on taking him out every day at two o’clock, rain or shine? They were with you?”

  Her reaction shocked the shit out of me. But then again, Dahlia had never been predictable. “Guilty as charged.”

  She laughed and my cold, black heart softened.

  The urge to touch her overwhelmed me, but I kept my distance. “You’re not mad?”

  “Actually, I’m relieved. I thought you didn’t want to see him.” Her smile wilted. “You could have told me. I would have brought him to you…”

  A surge of panic ran through me. I needed to take charge of the conversation before it went completely off the rails. “I shouldn’t have snuck around.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did it because you didn’t want to see me.”

  The pain in her voice cut me to the core. I sucked in a breath and chose my words very carefully. “You’re dating someone. I was giving you space.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Space? What gave you the idea I wanted space?”

  Why the hell is she surprised? “The night of Marco’s wedding, you told me you were dating Harrison.”

  “No. I told you my father—” She held up her hands and turned her head. “You know what. It doesn’t matter. All of this is in the past where it belongs. As for Gunnar, I promised I’d never keep him from you, and I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen. But…”

  Here it comes, the reason she’s going to break her promise. “But?”

  She raised her chin. “I have to make this move. Things are…complicated.”

  “Complicate
d how?” So help me God, if she’s doing this to be closer to that douchebag…

  “There you are!” My sister-in-law, Maggie, burst into the room and hugged Dahlia. “Shanna and I were starting to think you’d chickened out.”

  Dahlia’s cheeks turned red as she pulled out of the embrace. “I’ve been here for a few minutes. Leo and I were talking.”

  Maggie glanced in my direction and paled. The slow-motion-wide-eyed-head-turn belonged in a horror movie—and was one-hundred percent out of character for Gabe’s woman. She was raising five kids, for fuck’s sake. She sure as hell didn’t scare that easy.

  I didn’t need a degree in female psychology to put two and two together and come up with the fact that their conversation had something to do with me.

  Yeah, dipshit. She came to tell you she was moving.

  “I’ll… just…” Maggie motioned to the patio. “Leave you two alone to talk.”

  Before either of us could respond, Gabe came through the door holding Rocco at arms’ length. “Incoming! Biohazard baby. It’s your turn, Mags.”

  “Seriously? It’s been my turn since he started eating broccoli like it was candy.”

  “What can I say? You have a stronger stomach than I do.” Gabe winked at his wife and turned to Dahlia. “Glad you made it.”

  “Sorry I’m late. Something came up at home.” She hurried to Rocco and kissed one chubby cheek after the other. “Hey there, little man. Happy birthday.”

  Rocco whined and reached for her.

  She settled the baby on her hip. “You two go have fun. I’ll change him. Are his things still upstairs in the nursery?”