“Okay, I’ll level with you,” he said, giving in because it was the right thing to do. His sister deserved the truth if he was going to ask her to lie. “But you have to promise me this is between us. Not Carlos. Not Mami. Only us.”
Anamaría narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“¡Prométeme!” he growled.
She held up her hands in surrender. “Fine! I promise.”
“Here, open your trunk so it looks like I’m helping and not arguing with you.”
Anamaría hoisted a brow as if she were surprised by his knowledge of subterfuge. Still, she followed him to the back of her SUV and lifted the hatch.
“I ran into Sara on Friday around lunch, at the airport when I dropped some food off for Carlos. She was in a bind, some jerk stood her up, and she needed someone to step in to help, as her . . .”
He paused, embarrassed to actually admit this next part. He knew what his sister, his entire family, would think: Who are you and what have you done with my brother?
Saying yes to something like this was completely out of character. And yet he’d had the best damn three days of his life so far, thanks to Sara.
“Her partner, are you serious?” Hands on her hips, Anamaría gaped at him.
He gestured for her to grab something from her car, and she leaned in, reaching for the basket of rolled yoga mats and foam blocks she provided for her clients.
“Uh, yeah,” he answered lamely.
The basket plunked down onto the gray trunk carpet. “No way. It’s like in one of those rom-coms I love watching.”
Luis winced, already seeing the hearts in his sister’s hazel eyes. The last thing he needed was Anamaría playing matchmaker when he had no idea how or even if anything could come of this alternate reality he and Sara had conceived.
“Not exactly,” he cautioned. “Sara’s mom has been sick and this vacation was supposed to be stress-free for her. Then Sara’s idiot boyfriend ditched her, but she didn’t want her mom worrying about it. She was in a tight spot and I had the time off. It seemed natural for me—”
Anamaría’s trill of laughter rudely interrupted his explanation.
“Let me get this straight. Saint Navarro stepping in to save the day for one of this generation’s most sought-after social media influencers. That seems natural to you?”
He shrugged, his annoyance mushrooming when she threw back her head and laughed again. Her ponytail braid swished along her back when she shook her head, eyeing him with bemusement.
“How the hell was I supposed to know who she was?” he complained. “You know me; I’m not into all that social media stuff.”
“Un-freaking-believable.” Anamaría sank onto her vehicle’s bumper with a huff.
Eyes squeezed shut, she tucked her chin to her chest and pinched the bridge of her nose. A perfect imitation of their mami when they’d been out of control as kids and her patience thinned.
“I have been practically cyberstalking Sara Vance for over a year.” His sister squinted up at him in disbelief. “Reading her blogs and posts, combing through articles about her, following her advice. Ever since I decided to try growing my AM Fitness brand and client list. I would kill—kill, me oíste?”
“Yes, I hear you. Half the damn block hears you!” He craned his neck to peer at the Vances’ rental home, praying Sara or, por favor no, her mother hadn’t stepped outside.
“I would kill for half an hour of her time as a professional, so I could pick her brain. And you! You randomly run into her and wind up—Wait a minute, ay Dios mío!” Anamaría slapped a hand to her forehead. A stricken expression tightened her high cheekbones and widened her big eyes like an actress in one of their mami’s and abuela’s telenovelas. “Sara is the blonde everyone’s seen you with all weekend?”
Luis stumbled back as if his sister had slapped him with her accusation. “What do you mean, everyone?”
“Oh, you are so screwed, hermano.”
“What? Why?”
Hands on her slim hips, Anamaría scrunched her face in commiserating dismay. “Mami’s on to you.”
“No way?” He shook his head. At his sister’s commiserating grimace, the knot of doom in his stomach expanded like a dry sea sponge dipped in water. “How?”
“Freddie Lugo told his mom that he saw you with a blonde at Mallory Square Friday night. Señora Lugo asked Mami about it. Then, Señora Lopez called Mami to talk about some church function and she mentioned seeing you and a blonde riding bikes on Duval yesterday. And, apparently, after you ran into Franco Peréz grabbing lunch at Sandy’s on Friday, he said something to Carlos at the boys’ T-ball practice. Carlos let that cat out of the bag in a group text Mami sent this morning.”
“What group text? I wasn’t on any group text today.” Luis reached for his cell in the runner’s pouch strapped to his arm.
“You think Mami’s gonna include you in a thread trying to dig up info on you? Por favor, even you, San Navarro, know better than that. How many group texts have we been on without Enrique?”
She had a point.
Perturbed, Luis shoved his cell back down in the pouch and zipped it closed.
“I gotta say, you sure are putting a dull on that halo’s shine, in a big way, aren’t you?” Anamaría punched him gamely in the stomach, an impressed smirk curving her lips.
“I liked you better pissed off or fangirling. Not smug,” he grumbled.
“Aw, come on. It’s not often you’re involved in some kind of chisme. The only gossip I remember was when—” She broke off, lunging forward to grab him when Luis spun away. “I’m sorry I brought that up. I know you don’t like to talk about her, or what went down.”
“It’s fine; forget it.” Luis stared down at his sister’s smaller hand clasped around his wrist.
“Look, I know what it’s like to feel betrayed by someone who claims to love you.” Anamaría’s voice trembled. The shadow of depressing memories darkened her face. “Not that what Alejandro did after he left town compares to what you went through. I get that. But, you were there for me. You always are.” Her grip tightened on his wrist, her words scratchy with hurt. “I’m just sorry you can’t let me do the same for you.”
The fact that his inability to deal with Mirna’s deception and death pushed his sister from teasing laughter to the stark pain lacing her words so quickly shamed him.
Maybe Sara was right. Maybe it was time he figure out how to put his past to rest. For himself and those who’d been forced to tiptoe through the minefield he had laid around him for protection.
“Look, whatever you’re doing here, you know I got your back.” Anamaría stood up and pulled the basket of supplies to the edge of the trunk. “I’m simply warning you. Mami knows that you’ve been spending time with someone new. She’s going to want to meet her. Soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if she twists your arm to bring Sara to familia dinner tonight.”
The mere idea of Sara sitting at his mami’s table, confronted with the inevitable Navarro Cuban Inquisition, made Luis’s blood run cold with dread.
He sure as hell hoped his sister was wrong. No way would he put Sara through that.
* * *
At noon, while the Vance family and Luis waited for a table at Bistro 245 overlooking the harbor teeming with sailboats and catamarans bobbing on the water, Luis received the forewarned text from his mami.
I cannot wait to visit with your new amiga at familia dinner tonight. 6 PM. No falles.
Don’t miss.
Coño, her edict had been laid down. And no matter how badly he may want to, Luis knew better than to defy his well-meaning, henpecking, chancla-throwing mami.
Chapter 18
Sara drummed her fingers on the center console in Luis’s truck, the sound echoing the ominous beat pounding in her head. She peered in the passenger side rearview mirror at the “Welcome to Key West Paradise USA” sign with its brightly colored tropical sunset scene growing smaller in the distance behind them. Ahead, US 1 was a gray ribbon l
eading them toward his parents’ house in Big Coppitt Key.
“How far did you say the drive was?” she asked, not quite hiding the trepidation chipping at her self-confidence like a woodpecker high on an energy drink.
Luis cut a worried glance her way, then went back to watching the road when a car signaled into their lane.
“We’ll make a left onto Diamond Drive around Mile Marker Ten. It’s roughly twenty minutes from downtown, without traffic.”
That meant she had about ten more minutes to pull herself together. To center her thinking on positivity and stop the spiral of doubt that could trigger unhealthy urges.
Her fingers thrummed the console again, telegraphing her agitation. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Luis.
Hands clenched on the black leather steering wheel, he drove with his body rigidly straight in his seat, his expression schooled in his infamous, calm game face. From the moment they had said good-bye to her family and closed the front door behind them, Luis had slipped into the tough-guy, man-of-few-words Vin Diesel role that had drawn her to him on Friday.
A role she now knew he often played as a way of protecting himself from deep emotional wounds he tried to deny.
Ones he hid well behind that serious game face, along with the fun-loving, the honest, and especially the tender lover sides she’d come to care for.
But, once again, they were about to break the one cardinal rule from the very beginning he had asked her to respect. Don’t involve his familia.
Guilt pressed down on her like a two-ton whale. Sara closed her eyes, blocking out the peach, orange, and purple early evening sun streaks smearing the sky.
“I am so sorry about this,” she offered, knowing the words were little compensation for what lay ahead when they arrived at his childhood home.
A deep groove cut in between Luis’s brows at his frown. “For what? I’m the one dragging you out here. Away from fine dining at a five-star restaurant with your family to a buffet-style madhouse with mine. Where, as much as I’ll try to fend her off of you, I’m fairly certain my mom will be in prime Cuban Inquisition mode.”
The exasperation tinging his voice coupled with his over-exaggeration assuaged Sara’s fears and tickled her funny bone.
His frown deepened at her chuckle. “What’s so funny?”
“The Cuban Inquisition? Really?”
His eyes bugged out, his brows rising high. “Uh, yeah! Just wait.”
She sighed, oddly comforted by the fact that, despite the potential trouble her meeting his family could cause, Luis seemed mostly worried about her. His kind streak no longer surprised her really. It simply confirmed one of the multiple reasons why she was falling so hard and so fast for this generous giant of a man.
“At least, we can count on Anamaría for help deflecting,” he continued. “Mostly for your sake, not mine. She’d love to see me squirm. But for you, the biggest name in social media influencer circles and her absolute idol, she’ll take heat from Mami.”
“I am not the biggest name,” Sara deferred, slightly embarrassed by Anamaría’s effusive admiration this morning. Though also proud that her career trajectory would inspire his sister. “But I was serious when I said I’d sit down to go over her business plans, answer any questions.”
Luis waved away her offer. “You don’t have to do that. You’re on vacation.”
“I know I don’t have to; I want to. She’s got a lot of drive and energy. Important traits in this business. Her website and Insta accounts are pretty good. She could use a little tweaking with her branding. Some help networking within her target markets. Maybe—”
“How do you know all that?” Luis interrupted.
“I looked her up this afternoon. I’m serious; if I can offer some guidance, I’d like to.”
Releasing the steering wheel, he grasped her hand where it rested between their seats. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. Warmth spread down her arm, oozing across her chest to wrap around her heart.
“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
Sara hitched a shoulder, secretly pleased by his praise. “I try.”
He winked, and she found herself grinning back at him like a lovesick fool.
They reached another key and soon passed a military base. The truck continued traveling north on an overpass, but her gaze followed the exit road heading toward a black and white structure, its support beams and a small guardroom straddling the roads in and out of the base. The words U.S. Naval Air Station Key West were emblazoned across the front.
Silently, she stared at the dense vegetation outside her window. Palm trees and flowering bushes peppered the land. Thick mangroves with their green leaves and twisting brown roots filled the areas where land and ocean water met.
Too soon they neared a green and white road sign indicating “Big Coppitt Key.”
Luis laid their joined hands on his jeans-clad thigh, his face sobering.
Sara’s heartbeat slowed. Dread reared its nefarious head to whisper destructive thoughts in her ear.
“You’re sure I’m not underdressed?” She smoothed a palm down the skirt of her Lilly Pulitzer floral print swing dress. The navy and multi-blue-hued patterned material was a new favorite, the dress a gift from a recent photo shoot. But the halter neck and cutaway shoulders weren’t exactly meet-the-parents conservative. She’d grabbed a thin cover-up sweater just in case.
“You look beautiful.” Luis squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I wasn’t kidding; our familia dinner is the opposite of formal. Carlos’s kids often show up in their baseball clothes after practice.”
“Thank you. You clean up pretty good yourself.”
Her gaze slid from his deep green polo to his dark jeans and tan court sneakers. Pretty good didn’t nearly begin to describe him. In almost anything he wore . . . and didn’t wear . . . Luis Navarro was the epitome of hot. With a capital H.
The flash of the blinker on his truck’s instrument panel had her breath hitching.
Luis shot her a you-okay frown as he slowed the vehicle, waiting for a break in the southbound traffic so he could make the left turn.
“Same stick close to the truth game plan,” he reminded her. “We recently met here. Struck up a friendship, and I’m simply playing tour guide for the week.” He patted her hand on his thigh, then released her to maneuver the steering wheel as he pulled onto Diamond Drive.
The street was lined with a hodgepodge of older houses low to the ground and new ones up high, built after regulations stipulated homes be raised to prevent flooding during hurricane season. Palm, poinciana, and other flowering trees she couldn’t name provided shade. Bicycles and boats decorated several yards, and she caught sight of the canal that ran behind the homes on each side of the road, allowing them easy access to the ocean at the end of each street.
A mixture of stately two-story stucco beauties and smaller, more modest homes, the neighborhood spoke of the varying demographics of Keys dwellers. Those who had lived here for generations, hardworking and determined to stay despite the rising cost of living, and snowbirds from up north who retired and made the long-awaited move to the warmer climate.
“We’ll be fine,” Luis said as his truck slow-poked down the road. “At least neither one of us is pretending to be someone different. That makes it easier. And divert the conversation if needed.”
She nodded, repeating the simple instructions to herself with each breath in and out. Stick with the truth. Divert. Stick with the truth. Divert. Stick with the truth. Divert.
“And when my mami asks about our wedding date you—”
“Wait! What?!”
She slapped a hand to her chest afraid her heart might jump out onto the dashboard it pounded so hard. Marriage questions? His mother would freak if she found out that Sara and her son’s relationship was an arranged, fake, potentially short-term relationship. The, um, opposite of marriage material.
Even if it felt like more than that now.
“I figured that would get your attention,” Luis teased. “You were starting to hyperventilate on me.”
“You!” She swatted his arm in protest.
He grinned, but Sara quickly ducked down to peer out the windshield as he pulled his truck into a wide driveway running under the left half of a raised modest siding house with cream paint and dark brown shutters.
Wooden steps started at the edge of the driveway and went half a flight up before hooking left to end in a small porch at the front door. Lush bougainvillea vines trailed around the support beams and latticework along the bottom half of the stairs adding an explosion of bright magenta color in a warm welcome.
Instantly Sara’s doubts swelled, billowing in a cloud of uncertainty.
She fell back against her seat, rubbing at the center of her forehead as if it would erase the negative thoughts spiraling.
“Hey, come on, what’s going on?” Luis slid his hand behind her shoulders, his strong fingers kneading at the tension in her neck. “We got this.”
“Truth?” she whispered, remembering their conversation minutes before he’d met her parents Friday afternoon.
“Always.”
Sara peeked at him from under her lashes. “Even though this wasn’t supposed to happen. Me meeting your family. Us getting . . . you know, intimate.”
“Very intimate,” he teased, his eyes flaring with lust.
Desire sparked in her belly but wasn’t strong enough to dispel her misgivings.
“What is it?” Luis asked, as if he sensed her disquiet.
“I want them, your familia, to like me. Really badly want them to like me. And I’m trying not to go there.” There being the root cause of her OSFED. The fear she continuously fought to dig out of her psyche. “But what if they don’t? What if I’m not enough?”
“Aw, babe.”
Luis swiftly unbuckled his seat belt and twisted to face her. Gently he cupped her jaw with one hand, tucked her loose hair behind her ear with the other. His handsome, rugged face softened with sincerity, Luis leaned closer to press a chaste kiss to her lips.
“Cariño, there’s no doubt they’re going to like everything about you. Hell, Anamaría already loves you more than she loves me. You’re too loveable to resist.”
Island Affair Page 25
