“I’ll go see about renting chairs and an umbrella so you can get out of the sun,” Luis said, still in gruff protector mode.
“I brought a spare sheet to spread out. If you’re okay, I’m fine without a lounger. Shade is a good idea, though.”
“That works. I’ll grab a menu while I’m over there. Just in case.”
He jogged off without waiting for her response.
Sara bit her lip, barely stopping herself from yelling that he should ask about renting a better mood while he was at it.
Instead, she swallowed the smart-aleck jab. He meant well. She believed that. But if he started hovering like her family, it would put a pall on the rest of their afternoon. She refused to let that happen.
Like she often did with her parents, she’d have to set him straight. Make it clear he could stop worrying about her eating habits.
Hefting their woven beach bag on her shoulder, she scoped out an empty spot. Then, with the refreshing breeze’s billowing help, she spread the white sheet on the sand, securing two ends with one of her flip-flops and a third with their bag of supplies. By the time she was done, Luis had appeared with a young man wearing a navy polo and white shorts. The attendant quickly hammered a pole into the thick sand, then set up their umbrella before heading off to assist another customer.
Sara plopped down on her half of the blanket, waiting until Luis followed suit. As soon as he started removing his sneakers and socks, she bit the bullet.
“There’s no need for you to be concerned about whether or not I’m eating.” She pitched her voice low to avoid someone nearby overhearing their conversation. “If I’m exercising too much or downing laxatives.”
Luis’s fingers stilled on his left shoelaces.
He angled his head to look at her, his chiseled face serious. His gaze scanned hers for several tense seconds; she stared back at him, refusing to concede. Eventually he heaved a disgruntled sigh and got back to work unlacing his shoes.
After stuffing his socks in his black and red sneakers, he stretched across the sheet to place the shoes on the corner behind him, securing it from the stiff breeze.
“I noticed your reaction when you asked if I was hungry,” Sara pressed, refusing to back down from the issue. She’d hidden her OSFED for too long. Now she dealt with it head-on. Successfully. “Look, I appreciate your concern. Believe me, I understand where it’s coming from. You can ask, but not badger. What I really need is your trust and belief in me.”
Her feet buried in the sand, Sara looped her clasped hands around her knees and hugged them to her chest. A shield protecting her should his faith in her prove too fragile to withstand her plea. Nervously, she scrunched and opened her toes, the sand shifting around them.
Beside her, Luis propped his forearms on his raised knees, his big hands dangling between his legs. He faced the water, lips set in that damn grim line.
Sara’s heart raced. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
If he couldn’t do this, if their budding relationship changed because of her OSFED, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
It’d be a hard blow. But she’d handle it. Therapy and positive self-talk assured her she could cope with anything and do so in a healthy way.
Better she knew where Luis stood now, before she got in deeper. Before she cared more for him than she already did.
Keeping her gaze trained on a young mother slathering sunscreen on a squirmy toddler, the cutie’s round belly stretching a Little Mermaid one-piece suit, Sara stood her ground. “Like I already told you, I see my therapist regularly. I rely on learned cognitive behavior therapy skills. And Dr. Evans is on speed dial if I’m struggling with a trigger.”
Luis shifted beside her. Not wanting him to interrupt her, Sara rushed on, needing to get this out before she second-guessed herself.
“Which hasn’t happened in a while now. Not since my mom finished chemo and we got our first good news. My family hovers. Robin gets annoyed or aggravated or, whatever, for whatever reason. But you—”
She turned to face him, the sheet twisting beneath her crooked knees. Sand spilled onto the material, marring the white surface like the topic of her disorder had done to their carefree afternoon.
“You look at me differently than them, than a lot of others. Like I’m normal, whatever that really means. And I, I need for that to continue. For this, us, not to change.”
Suddenly, like a kettle left too long on the stove, she ran out of steam. Agitated, Sara tugged off the ball cap, gripping the bill tightly in her hands. The wind cooled her heated brow, blowing loose tendrils across her cheek.
“You are normal.” Luis twisted to splay his right hand on the sheet, leaning on his straightened arm for support. “I mean, we’re all dealing with something we don’t want to in our lives. In one way or another.”
“Like whatever happened between you and Enrique.”
He drew back at his brother’s name.
“C’mon, if I can share my deep dark secrets, you can, too.” Sara poked his shoulder with her knuckle. He didn’t even budge.
With his dark sunglasses in place, she couldn’t read his eyes. The rest of his face was set in a stoic, don’t-mess-with-me expression that probably worked with recalcitrant individuals when he responded to a call. It wouldn’t work with her.
Had they not spent the past few days together, basically fast-tracking their relationship, she might have backed off. Worried about overstepping some unspoken but definitive boundary.
Not now. Not when she’d picked at the scabs covering the painful scrapes in her personal life and revealed them to him.
“I know from experience, talking a situation out with someone actually helps.”
His “humph” in response told her exactly how thrilled he was by her suggestion.
Sara refused to be deterred. This . . . relationship had to be a two-way street. He wanted to help her; she was determined to do the same for him.
“Here’s the deal.” Scrambling on the sheet to sit tailor-style, she straightened her shoulders and spread her hands palms up on her knees. “I’m going into the water to cool off. Join me. Talk with me. Be honest with me. Like I’ve been with you.” She leaned toward him, her gaze boring into his, stressing her point for several weighty seconds. “Or stay here and pout on the beach.”
It was either a brave or foolish move. This edict she laid out for him.
That little voice inside of her, the one she often thought of as Mamá Alicia whispering encouragement in her ear when self-doubt dodged her steps, cheered her mettle.
“I don’t pout,” Luis grumbled.
An ember of hope lit in her chest. She plopped back down on her butt, fighting a grin.
Above his glasses his brows angled down in a fierce scowl. His mouth pursed in what she would most certainly call a pout.
“Don’t look now, but this”—she tapped his lips with her finger, then pushed to her feet—“is definitely a pouty face.”
She shimmied her running skirt down her hips, folded the garment, then set it near one of her flip-flops. Her orange Lululemon racerback tank followed.
Despite the cover of his sunglasses, she felt the heat of Luis’s gaze when she stood before him in nothing but her fuchsia string bikini. Reveled in the knowledge that she had his full attention.
Fists on her hips, she squinted down at him, the noon sun hot on her skin.
But the heat building on her inside . . .
Those flames were fanning to a blaze because of the mouth-wateringly gorgeous, if sometimes frustratingly hardheaded, hunk eyeing her from behind his darkened lenses.
“The decision is yours,” she challenged, imagining her hard-won self-confidence like a superhero’s cloak, flapping in the breeze behind her. “Me? I’ll be making like a saltwater fish cavorting in the surf. If you’re lucky, you might catch me.”
With an impish wiggle-fingered wave, she pranced toward the water, knowing full well that, thanks to a healthy diet and exercise, she ro
cked her bikini even better than a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.
Despite her confidence in her figure, she acknowledged the deep-seated desire that more than just the extra shake of her hips would entice Luis to loosen his guarded reserve and meet her halfway.
Would he accept her conditions and join her in the water? She sure as hell hoped so.
Chapter 15
Damn if this woman didn’t push all his buttons. Even the ones his familia knew were clearly marked “Don’t Touch.”
Luis wanted to be annoyed, like he was when Mami or Carlos or Anamaría pressed him to open up. Forgive. Move on. With Mami, he backed away from an argument. With his siblings, he grumbled at them to back the hell up.
Pero con Sara . . . He shook his head, unable to ignore the truth.
But with Sara something was different. He felt different.
Luis watched her confidently striding into the calm water, her trim body and sleek curves drawing the attention of others sunbathing and relaxing along the shore. Including some dude foolish enough to sport a man bun and a skimpy orange Speedo. The fumes from his fake orange spray tan must have killed a few brain cells if the guy was actually considering his chances of getting lucky with Sara.
No way. No how.
A curly-haired toddler in a pink princess bathing suit and with a round tummy that rivaled his old baseball coach’s beer belly ambled toward the water near Sara. Giggling with glee, arms flapping at her sides to steady her wobbly gait, the cutie looked back over her tiny shoulder at her mother, who gave chase.
Sara grinned, bending at the waist with her arms open wide to keep the child from running in too far. Her throaty laughter caught on the breeze. Lust, dark and rich, pooled low in Luis’s body. Coño, he’d be hearing that sound in his head, in his dreams, long after she flew out of his life, back to her big dreams in the big city.
Shin-deep in the water, the little girl tripped, yelping with fear as she threatened to go in face first. Surprise widened Sara’s eyes, but she quickly hunkered down to catch the child with a muffled, “I’ve got you.”
With Sara down on one knee, the child’s slippery weight knocked her to the side. She landed on her butt, water splashing around them. The girl’s pudgy arms wrapped around Sara’s neck in a chokehold.
The frazzled mom reached them, greeting Sara with a gasped, “I am so sorry!”
“I running,” the child told the adults in her sweet, high-pitched voice.
“You sure were,” Sara answered.
“Frannie, you cannot go into the water alone!” the mom cried. “You have to wait for Mommy!”
“But Ise wiff my new fwend.” The cutie maintained her death grip on Sara with one hand while she open-palmed dark curls out of her face with the other.
Sara’s grin widened and she waved off the mom’s exasperated apologies.
Luis had no idea if Sara had spent much time around her niece and nephew. Based on the tentative banter she shared with her brother and his quiet wife, and Sara’s admission that she wanted to get to know her siblings better, he’d guess probably not. And yet her ease with the friendly daredevil here on the beach suggested she wasn’t a novice. Or maybe she was simply a natural.
The thought tugged at a dream he hadn’t allowed himself to even consider since Mirna’s death. One he’d be foolish to entertain now.
From the moment Carlos and Gina’s oldest had been born seven years ago, Luis had happily changed José’s dirty diapers and handled feeding time. He had even walked the floor in the middle of the night when the little guy suffered with colic and Carlos was on shift, but Gina needed some sleep. He also babysat so the couple could sneak out for the all-important occasional date night. It’s what familia did for each other.
Like the weekend he and Enrique had tag-teamed baby duty so Carlos and Gina could check into a local Airbnb. She’d refused to go out of town. Worried about being too far away and the baby needing her.
Memories of the longest forty-eight hours of his years as a doting uncle rushed in on Luis.
Rock-paper-scissors battles between him and Enrique over who’d get to choose night feedings over poop diaper changes. Discovering José’s dislike for strained peas and how far the seven-month-old could spit a mouthful of green mush. The number of shirt changes Luis had made thanks to José’s projectile vomit, eventually giving up on wearing a shirt at all to avoid more dirty laundry.
By the time Sunday rolled around, Enrique had touted their nanny stint as the best form of birth control ever invented. Cementing his status as the consummate bachelor.
Luis had volunteered for regular bi-weekly date night duty. And decided to ask Mirna to marry him.
Six months later, she died from the injuries of her car accident, after revealing the truth of her deception.
Luis dug his fingers in the hot sand, betrayal bitter on his tongue. Picking up a fistful, he watched the grains fall at his side, the wind carrying some to fan across the sheet.
Life and love could be equally as fleeting. Whisked away by a force beyond your control.
Another bitter fact he’d learned on the job, surrounded by tragedy and loss, was the importance of cherishing life’s blessings. Appreciating what you had. Because it could be gone in an instant. He’d seen enough tragedies, comforted enough survivors, to know this as a certainty.
Maybe finding out about Mirna’s deception had been a blessing. One he’d been too hurt, too shell-shocked, to understand.
“¿Oye, vienes o no?”
Sara’s question, spoken in a Spanish accent that would impress his mami, had Luis’s gaze shooting up to meet hers.
She stood, knee-deep in the ocean. Head cocked to the side, one hand fisted on her jutted hip. A challenge sparked in her blue-green eyes. Her string bikini begging for him to untie the scraps of material and show her exactly what happened when she challenged him with an “Are you coming or not?”
If only.
Brushing his hands on his board shorts, Luis rose to his feet and ducked under the umbrella’s edge.
When an enticing mermaid beckoned with her sexy siren call, even he wasn’t strong enough to resist.
* * *
Luis shed his tank, dropping it in a black pool on their sheet and sending Sara’s pulse into overdrive.
He strode purposefully across the sand toward her. His eyes still shielded by those damn Ray-Bans, a smug grin spreading his lips.
Her stomach clenched, lust tingling in private places at the sight of his gorgeous body. She knew he kept himself in amazing shape. He had to for his demanding job. But good Lord, the man was sin and sex and so many things Mamá Alicia had warned her about when Sara first hit puberty.
No way Sara planned to heed that warning now.
She gulped. Trying to act cool and composed. Intent on not ogling him.
Totally failing.
The glorious slopes of his pecs rivaled the ridges and curves of his six-pack abs for her attention. The wide breadth of his magnificent shoulders tapered to a slim waist, dragging her gaze to his obliques and the tease of his board shorts low on his hips.
Luis’s feet hit the shore and she stood paralyzed with desire. In four strides he reached her. His hands cupped her hips, his thumbs hooking on the strip of material.
“I caught you,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
She arched her neck to gaze up at him, her heart tripping, stuttering, then heading off to the races again.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Looping her hands around his waist, Sara walked backward, leading him deeper into the water. “Maybe I wanted you to.”
His cocky grin broadened to Cheshire cat level.
The cool ocean lapped against her lower back and she sucked in a quick breath. Caught in the swirl of hot lust. In danger of being sucked into the staggering undertow being in Luis’s arms elicited.
His fingers tightened around her hips and she drew to a stop.
Luis took another step, closing the gap between them. His wet skin,
slippery with sunscreen, hot from the sun, pressed against her stomach. Her breasts brushed his chest, their sensitive tips straining against her flimsy top, desperate for his touch.
She ran a finger along the edge of the waistband at his back, dipping her fingertip inside. His erection stirred against her pelvis and she savored his reaction. Reveled in the knowledge that her attraction, the desire consuming her, was mutual.
“We’re playing with fire here,” he warned.
“Good thing I know a hunky firefighter with a big—”
He ducked down to capture her lips in a searing kiss silencing her smartass comeback.
She opened for him, kissing him with equal fervor. Their tongues brushed. Sweeping, savoring, tangling in a swirl of hunger.
The intensity of emotion buckled her knees. Luis’s strong arms wrapped her in his tight embrace and together they sank lower in the salty water. The cold caught her by surprise and she gasped. His lips tore from hers, tracing a delicious trail of hot kisses up her jaw, to the sensitive spot under her ear.
“Bella sirena,” he whispered, his heated breath raising goose bumps on her flesh.
“This beautiful mermaid’s caught herself a hunky sailor,” she murmured.
A raspy chuckle shook his chest, rubbing her nipples through her suit top. Like a fiery line of lit gasoline, lust shot straight down to the spot she yearned for him to touch.
As if he sensed her need to be closer, to feel him in her most intimate place, Luis cupped her butt and lifted her off her feet, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She willingly obliged. Beneath the water, their bodies melded, her hips cradled in his lap. His erection prodded at her core through her suit bottom. Firm, insistent.
It wasn’t enough. She bucked her hips against him, and he groaned, tightening his hold on her.
“Ah, dios, you’re driving me crazy,” he murmured.
His teeth nibbled on her earlobe; then he laved the tender spot with his tongue.
“Crazy in a good way?”
“The best way.”
Their lips met in another salty-sweet kiss that had her heart soaring like the seagulls overhead. Elbows bent, she pressed her forearms up his back, her hands cradling his shoulder blades as she hugged him tightly. He suckled her lower lip, then sealed his mouth over hers for a deep, toe-curling kiss.
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