But somehow, having Luis here with her, partnered with someone she respected and cared for like her parents and siblings were, gave her a sense of belonging she had always craved.
She recognized that this wasn’t real, but for now, she allowed herself to believe it.
Stepping between the artfully scarred wooden table and Luis, Sara squatted tentatively on his left knee.
“You can’t possibly be comfortable like that. Come here.” His large hands grasped her hips, easily sliding her toward him until her bottom rested snug in the crook of his lap. The motion pulled the hem of his shorts up a few inches, leaving the warmth of his thigh cushioning her legs.
He rested his chin on her bare shoulder, the day’s growth of scruff rough against her skin. Earlier, while they’d waited for dinner to arrive and she responded to emails and social media comments in the first-floor office, he had showered and changed. Now his earthy scent mixed with a clean soapy smell luring her closer.
Instinctively she melted against him, barely curbing the urge to burrow into the sanctuary of his muscular arms and chest.
Luis’s hands tightened on her hips for the briefest moment, before releasing her to fiddle with his domino pieces. He picked up one, set it back in the same place. Moved another to the end of his tiny row, only to put it back in its original spot. A pointer finger tap-tap-tapped the top of another piece but didn’t change its position. As if he were . . . nervous. Or distracted. By her, maybe?
Did he feel the same drugging pull? A similar impulse to bag the game and head up to their room to explore where their pent-up attraction might lead?
“Okay, so I’m next,” Edward announced, thwarting Sara’s ill-advised musings as he plunked down a domino.
The play continued around the table, with Luis sometimes stopping one of the others from making a move that might potentially block their partner. Occasionally the game slowed as someone counted the pieces, trying to ensure they didn’t “lock” the game, as Luis called it, by placing the last domino with a certain number on one end of the train while the same number remained at the other end. In essence, leaving no one with the ability to make another move.
“How do you say that in Spanish again?” Robin asked.
“Tran-car,” Luis repeated, enunciating the syllables. “To lock, or to get stuck, basically.”
Robin repeated the word in her heavily English-accented Spanish. “I have taken medical terminology Spanish to help communicate with patients, but my tongue simply cannot master the rolled r,” she told him. “Of course, I didn’t have the added benefit of a nanny who spoke the language to teach me from a young age like some of us did.”
Sara flinched at the blunt accusation in her sister’s tone.
“No, you had your nonfluent mother setting aside her career until Jonathan and you started school,” Ruth countered.
She shot a sharp look at Robin and reached for her vitamin smoothie. Lips pursed around her metal reusable straw, Sara’s mom swallowed the rest of her usual reprimand, though her disappointment etched her thin face.
The age-old mother-daughter disagreement and the way Robin dragged Sara into it scraped down Sara’s spine like sharp fingernails. It used to draw blood, send her tiptoeing away to avoid the fray. The years her mother had stayed home with her first two children, putting her blossoming career on hold, later choosing not to do the same after Sara was born, were a thorn in all three Vance women’s sides. For completely different reasons.
While Sara had been working hard to figure out how to let go of the abandonment she felt, every once in a while, Robin poked at the sore spot.
“And thus began the merry-go-round of college student nannies, many of whom required babysitters of their own.” Robin’s lips twisted with sarcasm. “Remember the one who needed my help with her algebra when I was in seventh grade?”
“Oh god, how about the girl who mixed up the sugar and salt when she tried to bake us chocolate chip cookies? Twice!” Jonathan threw in, his scrunched face mimicking his mouthed “gross.”
A chorus of moans greeted his addition to the bumpy trip down memory lane. Sara heard Luis’s muttered “yuck” and glanced over her shoulder to find his expression matched her brother’s.
Robin laughed, her sour mood thankfully lifting. “Yeah, chemistry was definitely not her best class. However, silver lining, mother, tutoring her and several others actually aided me with my own studies.”
Ruth dipped her head, accepting Robin’s attempt to smooth over their rough patch.
“Now that I think about it, many of them must have been one of those undecided, cakewalk Humanities majors like art or basket-weaving.”
Sara cringed inside, recalling her first two years as an Exploratory Humanities, Fine Arts and Design major until she settled on her general BA in the Arts degree. One of those often belittled “cakewalk majors” Robin so easily denigrated.
Her father’s gaze slid to Sara’s. He winked, understanding how her sister’s inadvertent dig might chafe. In years past, comments like this had burrowed under her skin. Festering. Contributing to the self-doubt that drove her OSFED.
With therapy, she’d learned to separate her sister’s perspective from her own. Focus on the positives about herself rather than the perceived shortcomings.
“Cakewalk or not,” Sara answered, “humanities majors make successful social media influencers. From my experience anyway.”
“Touché.” Jonathan tipped his bottle toward her.
Luis reached out to tap his beer with her brother’s, the show of solidarity lightening the weight of Robin’s dismissal.
“So, where’d you go to school?” Robin asked Luis, at the same time she tapped a domino to indicate Edward should play it. “University of Miami?”
Nestled in his lap, Sara felt Luis stiffen. She realized, they’d gone over details like this about her family because the Vances prided themselves on their academic pedigree, especially med school. But Luis hadn’t mentioned whether or not he’d gone on to earn a bachelor’s degree after getting his EMT and paramedic certifications and joining the fire department.
Sara pretended to fiddle with one of Luis’s dominoes; then she laid her hand over his on the table in a silent show of support. Luis twisted his wrist to thread his fingers with hers in a move that felt completely natural.
“I started here at Florida Keys Community College,” he told Robin. “It saved money, and I was able to keep working, leading dive and snorkel tours. After that, I finished up online.”
“The blue-collar route to improving your opportunities,” Robin said. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Sara gritted her teeth, annoyed by her sister’s condescending tone. Even though Robin probably didn’t intend to be.
Jonathan started to say something, but Carolyn tightened her arms around his shoulders with a playful jostle. He gave her a squinty-eyed glare, but it quickly dissolved into a sheepish grin that ended with them giving each other a quick kiss.
Sara marveled at her mild-mannered sister-in-law’s ability to distract her brother in a bid to keep the peace among the siblings.
“I think it shows initiative. Not to mention sound financial decision-making,” Sara’s dad noted. “I admire that. Especially in the person dating my youngest.”
Luis shifted in his seat. When she teetered on his lap, he wrapped his arm around her waist, securing her comfortably against him.
“As the son of a local firefighter and stay-at-home mom, I learned early on to appreciate what we had,” Luis explained. “My parents taught me the value of hard work, faith, and service to others.”
“Important values,” Sara’s mother said. “If your siblings are anything like you, your parents must be as proud as I am of my three.”
Robin, of course, preened under their mother’s praise. Sara focused on appreciating her mother’s compliment instead of questioning it, remembering her therapist’s advice to not add unwarranted subtext to others’ statements.
&nbs
p; Jonathan, the smart aleck, leaned toward their mother with a sly smirk. “Yeah, Mom, but we all know I’m your favorite.”
Ruth shushed out a breathy laugh and pushed him away with a hand splayed across his face.
Robin rolled her eyes with a muttered, “Whatever.”
“Son, I hate to disappoint you, but it’s a known fact that I’m her favorite.” Their dad bent across the corner of the table toward his wife, who met him halfway, her lips puckered for a mushy smooch.
Sara watched, love for her parents mingling with disbelief. They were rarely demonstrative. At least, until her mom’s sickness they’d never been that way. This type of behavior—kisses and hugs and romantic declarations—had lately become the norm.
It was a sweet, welcome change, if you asked Sara. One that had her hoping maybe this really could be their new normal. Maybe she could reach an understanding with her mother, perhaps even Robin. Someday.
“Okay, you two, you’re holding up the game. Mother, it’s your move,” Robin interrupted, waving a hand over the domino train winding its way across the table.
“Life is short, my fastidious, analytical child,” Ruth admonished as she settled herself into her rattan chair.
“Yes, that’s why Edward, Dad, and I plan to beat the three of you quickly and mercilessly.” Robin’s quip earned her a belly laugh from their dad and a disbelieving shake of her head from their mother.
“Luis, please tell me your family isn’t as cutthroat as this bunch!” Ruth cried. Resting a forearm on the edge of the table, she stretched out to place a domino on the far end of the train in front of him.
“Oh, it can get bad in our house, too. But there’s no doubt I’m my mami’s favorite.”
“And Sara’s,” Ruth said, her satisfied smile spreading wider when Luis placed a chaste kiss on Sara’s temple.
He wrapped their clasped hands around her waist, her torso now crisscrossed in his tight embrace. As much as she reminded herself this was all pretend, the thrill she felt enveloped in his cocoon of sexy masculinity was undeniably real. Dangerous, but she let herself continue to enjoy it.
“She’s definitely mine,” Luis murmured, his lips brushing her temple in another heated caress.
“Hey, cut that out. You’re making the rest of us men look bad here,” Jonathan teased.
“Sweetie, I think you should be taking notes instead of arguing with the man,” Carolyn countered.
Even staid Edward chuckled at Carolyn’s quip.
“It’s your move, Charles,” Sara’s mom prodded.
Her dad scanned the pieces already played, strategizing his next move.
With only one domino left, Luis laid it facedown, then flicked his wrist to set the piece spinning. The white rectangle blurred, the stone clattering against the wooden tabletop.
“Speaking of teams winning quickly and mercilessly.” He stopped the spinning piece with a blunt fingertip. “This is the domino that’ll give Ruth, Sara, and me the first round.”
Call her catty, but Sara couldn’t squelch her grin at her sister’s irritated game face. Robin hated losing.
“Let me see,” Sara murmured.
She covered Luis’s hand with hers and together they tilted up the piece for her to count the black dots—three on one half, none on the other. Glancing at the train, she saw a three on one end and a blank on the other. Luis was right. No matter which end her father played off, Luis would close out.
“Speaking of families, are you sure you don’t want to at least invite your parents to join us for dinner or lunch? I’d love to have them over,” Ruth offered.
Sara and Luis’s domino clattered onto the tabletop. Panic rushed up to choke her, and she abruptly sat up, out of the false security of Luis’s arms.
“Uh, no. That wouldn’t be . . . it’s not . . . I mean, th-thank you for asking, Mother. But, um—” She twisted around to face Luis. Once again, praying he interpreted her what-the-hell-do-we-do expression. “Didn’t you say they were busy this week?”
He rubbed her side, his calmness reassuring her as he nodded. “Actually, my tía—my mom’s sister—is in town from the Fort Lauderdale area. They’ve got sister-bonding plans, as my papi calls it.”
“That sounds lovely. Will you get a chance to see your tía while she’s here?” Ruth asked.
“I’m meeting up with most of my family for mass tomorrow morning while you’re having brunch.”
As soon as Luis mentioned mass, Sara winced, anticipating her mother’s next words.
“Well then, I should change our reservation to a table for four. Sara, you mentioned attending an early morning service when we were trip planning. I’m assuming you’re going with Luis to meet with his parents instead of joining us, correct?”
Horror flashed in his dark brown eyes. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Sara knew the response he expected from her. Only, she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
If she told her mother no, her family would wonder why. She’d been attending mass since first grade, when she’d told Mamá Alicia she wanted to make her First Communion alongside Pedro, Mamá Alicia’s youngest son. And yet, if she went to mass with Luis, her presence would inevitably raise questions from his family. Questions he did not want to deal with.
She’d simply have to make sure not to put him in a position requiring him to do so. She owed him that much.
“Yes, I’m going to mass tomorrow. I meant to tell you that earlier, Mother.” Swiveling around to face her mom, Sara sank back against Luis. Trying not to miss the warmth of his arm, no longer holding her securely to him. “It slipped my mind when I got that call from my assistant confirming my upcoming guest posts and shoot dates.”
Lacing her fingers with Luis’s on the table again, she gave his hand a squeeze. Trust me.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind us skipping brunch and golf so we could spend time with his family.”
Luis stiffened.
Regret nipped at Sara’s conscience, and she brought their joined hands to her chest. She cradled them against her racing heart and silently pledged to make things right.
Her mom’s expression brightened. A breeze blew her short pixie cut bangs off her forehead, a reminder for Sara that not even a year ago her mom had still worn a head wrap to cover her patchy hair. This ruse was meant to ensure nothing marred her vacation. That remained Sara’s main priority.
“I think it’s a marvelous idea for you to spend the day with Luis’s family,” Ruth said, her smile widening.
Sara offered a wobbly smile in response. Well, at least one of them thought so.
Chapter 12
“Like I said, just drop me off at a coffee shop while you go to mass. I’ll hang out there,” Sara repeated.
Luis shook his head. No way was he going along with her idea.
“Why not?” she asked, heaving a disgruntled sigh as she leaned against the bathroom doorjamb.
The bathroom’s overhead light streaming behind her and the soft glow of the bedside lamp turned her blond waves a burnished gold and cast her face in soft shadow. There was no mistaking the hint of frustration in her hushed voice.
“Not an option,” he reiterated. The same answer he’d given her the first two times she’d outlined her idea for how they’d convince her family Sara had gone to mass without the complication of involving his in the increasingly tangled web the two of them wove.
He turned away to grab a T-shirt out of his drawer, then shrugged it on, momentarily blocking her from his view. Gracias a Dios for small favors. At least she’d slipped on a pair of black shorts under the silky spaghetti-strapped mini pajama dress barely covering her shapely ass.
He was finding it hard to concentrate on his rationale for refusing to go along with her latest scheme.
When she’d stepped out of the bathroom earlier wearing the pale blue nightie Luis had nearly swallowed his tongue. One look at the low-cut design, the slope of her perky breasts on marvelous display, and the front of his sh
orts had instantly tightened.
She’d scurried to her side of the drawers, grabbed the shorts, and hightailed it back to the bathroom. Her cheeks flushed as she mumbled a, “Sorry, I forgot something,” and shut the door.
His body’s instant reaction to her sexy nightclothes solidified his decision to not share the bed with her. Sara’s “just friends” mantra taunting him.
Ha! In his life rulebook, friends didn’t lust after each other this badly. Didn’t daydream about sliding the other’s pajama straps off her delicate shoulders, trailing kisses down her elegant neck, filling their palms with the other’s luscious curves.
What he wanted to do with her would take them definitively out of the friend zone.
He was a short fuse away from marching across the bedroom, swooping Sara into his arms, and carrying her to the queen-sized bed where they’d both learn how amazing they would be together. Because make no mistake, based on the chemistry sizzling between them, he was absolutely certain the sex would be mind-blowing.
Instead, he grabbed a pillow off the bed and dropped it on the hardwood floor in front of the white nightstand. He’d have to find an extra blanket. A comforter or duvet would be a better option. Sleeping on the floor didn’t bother him, but his back would appreciate something with a little cushion between him and the hardwood. If all else failed, he could grab the shaggy sky blue rug from their bathroom and drape a sheet over it.
“What are you doing?” Sara asked as he strode to the wardrobe and tugged on the knobs to fling both doors open wide.
“Looking for something I can use to make a pallet,” he grunted. “I figure the bed’s kinda small, maybe sharing isn’t the best idea after all.”
Not with the horny impulses he harbored.
Pushing aside their hanging clothes, he checked behind them for extra linens. No luck. The gauzy multicolored material of one of her sundresses caught on his thumb. The image of her wearing the outfit seared his brain. Followed quickly with one of him peeling it off.
Not helping!
He shook his hand trying to dislodge the distracting dress. The plastic hanger clattered against the top of the wardrobe as it swung violently on the metal pole.
Island Affair Page 17
