by Nika Rhone
When she finally turned, though, her entire body sagged with relief. Bernice hadn’t been referring to Shaggy after all. She’d meant Rafe. She had him cornered against the side of his truck as she talked at a million miles a minute, hands flying as she spoke. Lillian grinned at the strained look of polite patience on his face. Poor guy probably didn’t know what hit him.
The grin slipped, though, when one of those flying hands landed on Rafe’s arm. Suddenly Lillian didn’t find the situation quite so amusing. Especially when Bernice made no effort to end the contact. Before she thought about it, she crossed the sidewalk to where the two of them stood and gave them both a huge, tooth-baring smile.
“Look who’s here!” Bernice sounded as excited as if she’d just found Waldo. “I was telling Rafael that he has to come dancing at Blaze tonight. It would be so much fun!”
Lillian’s hackles flexed. Rafael, was it? Why the hell was Bernice’s hand still sitting on his forearm like she had some right to touch him? And why was he letting her? She shot Rafe a dirty look even though it wasn’t fair. She’d apologize later. After Bernice got her grimy mitts off of her guy.
Her guy?
Rafe spoke up while Lillian stood in stunned panic at the possessive thought.
“Thanks for the invitation, Bernice, but I think we already have plans for tonight.” He looked at Lillian, waiting for her to back him up.
“We?” Bernice’s head swung in her direction, her magenta lips puckered into a frown. “As in, the two of you? Together?”
There was a moment of silence before Lillian responded, still feeling a little gobsmacked. “Yes, the two of us.”
“But…two days ago you said he was just your neighbor.” Bernice looked perplexed.
Lillian understood the feeling. “Two days ago, he was.”
“Oh. Oh!” Understanding dawned in her expression. With a sigh, she took her hand from Rafe’s bare forearm, although it looked to Lillian like more of a caress than a withdrawal. “Well, that’s great for you both.” There wasn’t a whole lot of enthusiasm in her words, but being deprived of a chance to get up close and personal with a man like Rafe could do that to a woman, so Lillian forgave her. Mostly. “You should still come to the club tonight. A friend of mine is DJing, and he’s like totally lit!”
“I don’t know.” Rafe looked at Lillian. “Didn’t you have something you had to do tonight, Lil?”
Yes. She’d told him that morning when he started nibbling on her neck as she made breakfast that she needed to put in some hours in the studio before she let him distract her with sex again. She’d also asked how he felt about modeling for her. He hadn’t looked enthused, but he hadn’t said no either. Then, the prospect of ogling Rafe nude for hours on end had filled her with heated anticipation.
Now, it made her throat close up with panic the same way the thought of working for her father always did.
Smiling brightly at Bernice, Lillian said, “You know, I think dancing is exactly what we should do tonight.” Because if she was out dancing, then she couldn’t be sitting at her easel, pretending to be something she clearly was not.
Chapter Twelve
Something was going on with Lillian.
For the past three days, the woman hadn’t stopped moving once. When she wasn’t at work—which she seemed to have developed a distinct apathy for—she was either cleaning, clubbing, or confusing the hell out of him with her manic mood swings. Rafe was exhausted just from watching her.
Of course, that might also have been from the incendiary sex they were having too.
While he normally wouldn’t complain about having all the hot, headboard-banging sex he could ever dream of, Rafe realized it was just another symptom of whatever was ailing his little pixie. But whenever he tried to have a serious conversation about her sudden change in demeanor, she’d insist nothing was wrong, then distract him with more sex.
Weak-willed bastard that he was, it worked every time.
Which was why this time he wasn’t leaving anything up to chance. They were going to have their long-overdue conversation, and they were going to do it in a place where her usual distraction techniques wouldn’t be an option. Even if Lillian might be willing to get adventurous and try for sex in a public place, having that place be his parents’ restaurant would ensure there was no chance Rafe would be able to rise to the occasion. No matter how persuasive her nimble little fingers might get.
And, to really hedge his bets, he’d called in the big guns to back him up. Lillian might kill him for it, but he was out of ideas of what else to do. Because there was something wrong, and he was getting to the bottom of it.
Sending up a prayer the evening didn’t end in bloodshed—namely his—Rafe ushered Lillian through the front door of Bayamo. The familiar sounds and smells enveloped him, bringing as they always did the smallest tinge of nostalgia and regret. This was where his entire family came together to work, and laugh, and fight, and laugh some more. Part of him wished he could be a part of that. But he’d chosen a different path. It might get a little lonely sometimes, but it was where he could keep them all safe, and that was more important to him than anything else.
Rafe wasn’t surprised to see his sister, Brianna, standing in her usual spot behind the hostess stand. He was surprised to see his mother standing next to her. It was Friday night, and from the look of things the place was booked solid, as always. For Lucia to have abandoned her kitchen in the middle of the dinner service meant she was more than a little curious about Rafe’s sudden request to use the family table. From the way she was eyeing Lillian, whom Rafe had tucked protectively under his arm as they maneuvered through the crowd of waiting diners, she was already picking out dates for the wedding.
Fuck me running.
Managing a smile, he leaned down and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Mami.” He repeated the gesture with his sister. “Bria.” Placing his hand on Lillian’s lower back, he said, “Lillian, I’d like you to meet my younger but not youngest sister, Brianna, and my mother, Lucia, who is the culinary dynamo behind the success of Bayamo.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Lillian said, smiling. “I’ve heard such good things about the food here. I can’t wait to try it. I’m starving.”
Always pleased to hear her food praised, Lucia clapped her hands once. “Bueno! I am so glad you are not one of those women who pretend they never have to eat more than a carrot to stay alive. Come!” She slipped her arm through Lillian’s. “I will show you your table and tell you what you should try.”
Rafe worried about how Lillian would react to his mother’s usual high-handedness, but she shot him a laughing grin over her shoulder as she was towed away. Before following, he looked at his sister, who nodded.
“Everything’s just the way you asked.”
“Gracias, hermana.” He dropped another kiss on her cheek before heading after Lillian and his mother, ignoring the curiosity that burned in Bria’s gaze. Winding through the close-set tables, twisting aside twice to let a tray-laden waiter zip by, Rafe had enough time before getting to the back of the room to start questioning what he was doing. But then he heard Lillian’s excited “omigod” and it was too late to change his mind.
Joining her at the u-shaped table set into the corner nearest the kitchen, made semi-private by the wooden latticework that ran along the top of the banquette seating, Rafe was relieved Lillian seemed happy about the surprise he’d arranged. Inviting two of her friends to join them without telling her first had been a gamble. But other than tying her to a chair and forcing her to tell him what was going on with her, he’d run out of ideas.
He was familiar in a peripheral way with the woman Lillian was giving an exuberant hug. Thea Fordham had been one of the tight-knit group of three that had stuck together all through high school and beyond. Rafe had met her at several Beaumont family functions, but he couldn’t say he actually knew her. He’d heard their other friend, the quiet little blonde, had moved away the previous year, so h
e hadn’t been able to include her in tonight’s ambush.
The second person waiting at the table Rafe didn’t know at all, but he assumed it was Lillian’s friend Desmond Finkle. Rafe pegged the man at maybe ten years his senior, although it was tough to tell. His skin tone was a shade darker than Rafe’s own, his almond-shaped dark eyes pinning his heritage somewhere in the Mediterranean region. Eyes that watched Rafe with a level of reserve that told him this man wasn’t at all sure of him and his relationship to Lillian. Fair enough. The feeling was mutual.
Especially when he curled his arm around Lillian’s shoulders as she pulled away from their hug and tugged her down beside him. “Sit with me, kitten. We can have a nice coze and catch up on things. It’s been an age.”
Lillian rolled her eyes. “Des, don’t be a troublemaker.”
He gave her an exaggerated pout. “But I do it so well.”
With a laugh, Lillian swatted his arm and got back to her feet. “Des, Thea, I’d like you to meet Rafael Delgado. Although, you probably already knew that, since he invited you here?” She gave Rafe a questioning look that went with the tone in her voice.
The fact she slipped her arm around Rafe’s waist and leaned into him while she did the introductions went a long way toward settling the hackles Des had raised. “Thea passed along the invitation to Des for me, so we haven’t technically met before.” He shook the other man’s hand, then gestured for her to slide into the booth first. Not only would it keep her boxed in and unable to leave if things went south, it also put her the furthest possible from Des, who gave him a mocking grin in acknowledgment. “Thank you both for coming out tonight on such short notice.”
“Anything for our Lillian,” Des said. It was obvious the proprietary tone was meant to provoke, but given Lillian’s comment about her friend being a troublemaker, Rafe did his best to ignore the challenge it represented. For now.
“Speaking of short notice, I can’t believe you managed to get a table,” Thea said. “Doyle wanted to come here for his birthday, but even a week out they were already booked solid.”
Lillian grinned and bumped Rafe’s shoulder with hers. “Well, Rafe has an in with the owners.”
“It’s my family’s place,” he admitted with a shrug.
Des’s lip curled. “Ah, so some poor schmuck got his reservation bumped for us.”
“No,” Rafe said, feeling those hackles start to twitch again. “This table isn’t on the dining room grid. It’s always held for family and friends, so nobody got bumped.” He didn’t know why the other man was going out of his way to pick a fight, but Rafe wasn’t about to lose his temper. Not in his parents’ place, and certainly not in front of Lillian.
Later, though, he and her good friend would be having a few words.
The bubble of tension at the table broke when the waitress came by to take their drink order. When she left, Thea and Des put their attention to their menus. Rafe knew the choices by heart, so he knew why he wasn’t doing the same, but he leaned closer to Lillian and asked why her menu was still untouched.
Lillian grinned. “Because your mother already told me what she was making for me.” She laughed at Rafe’s pained groan. “It’s fine. Having the chef choose your meal is a compliment.”
No, it was his mother being her usual dictatorial self.
Lillian leaned even closer. “Why did you invite my friends out to dinner?”
“Because you needed it.” She needed something. Rafe could only hope that her friends would be able to pry out of her what he’d been unable to.
She stared at him for a long second, her eyes misting, before she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The gratitude made him feel a little guilty. He had ulterior motives she hadn’t figured out yet. But they were for her benefit, so he decided he was still on the side of the angels.
Whether Lillian would see it that way was another matter.
After their orders had been taken and an enormous platter of chips and salsa had been delivered along with their drinks, Rafe waited for Lillian’s friends to begin the inquisition. He just didn’t expect them to start with him.
“So, Rafe, how do you know our sweet little Lily?”
Lillian made a gagging sound. “God, Des! You know how much I hate that nickname.”
“We’re neighbors.”
Des raised a well manscaped eyebrow. “Very close neighbors, I would guess.”
That was when Rafe realized he and Lillian were sitting all but on top of each other, her leg pressed in a warm line against his. He also realized that he’d totally wussed out on the truth, couching their relationship in the most impersonal of terms. Hating his wussery, hating that he might have hurt her with his thoughtless words, he slipped his arm around Lillian’s shoulders. He was grateful when she leaned into the embrace.
“We’ve lived in the same building for a few months, but we’ve recently become…involved.” He wasn’t sure what other label to put on it. Dating didn’t seem right. Neither did friends with benefits.
“It must be pretty recent, since Lil didn’t mention she was seeing anyone new when she came over last weekend.” Thea’s gaze darted between the two of them as though only just realizing something was going on there. It seemed she wasn’t as adept at reading body language as their friend Des.
“It kind of started that same day I came to dinner.” Lillian tipped her head up and smiled at Rafe. “We, ah, had a moment in the elevator.”
Heat prickled Rafe’s skin as he remembered the teasing kiss his little pixie had blown to him as the elevator doors closed. That made him remember what those luscious lips had been doing right before they left the apartment. And that was almost his undoing. He couldn’t stop himself. He had to kiss her. It was soft and fleeting, but loaded with promise.
“And a mere six days later you’re inviting her friends out to dinner and playing the lovesick swain.” The cynicism in Des’s tone was cutting, dragging Rafe from his lustful thoughts. “My, you do move fast, Señor Delgado.”
“Des, knock it off,” Lillian snapped, giving him a narrow-eyed glare.
“Just an observation, kitten,” Des said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “No need to unsheathe your sharp little claws on my magnificent hide.”
“Then don’t give me a reason. Do I interfere with your love life?”
“All the time.” His expression softened. “It’s what friends do.”
That deflated Lillian’s annoyance with an audible sigh. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about me. Everything’s fine.”
No, it wasn’t. Rafe knew it. From the expression on Des’s face, he knew it too.
“So, Rafe…” Des reached for another chip. “What do you do for a living? Are you a part of the family business?”
“No, actually. I didn’t get the cooking gene everyone else seems to have inherited.” Rafe was used to making light of the fact he was the nonconformist in his loud, close-knit family. “I’m a police officer here in Boulder.”
Thea’s eyes widened. “Oh! You’re the—”
“Friend of Pete’s.” Lillian gave her friend a very pointed look.
“Right. Yes. That’s what I was going to say.”
That was so not what she was going to say. Rafe watched the silent communication that went on between the two women, burning with curiosity, but knew he’d never get a straight answer out of them. He glanced at Des. At least he looked as lost as Rafe felt.
“Do they do this a lot?” Rafe asked him.
Des snorted. “Annoying, isn’t it?”
For one brief moment, Rafe felt a hint of accord with Lillian’s friend. But that feeling went right out the window when Des said, “Your family must have been disappointed in you when you decided not to follow tradition.”
Lillian gasped. “Des!”
“No, not at all,” Rafe replied, ignoring the squirming woman at his side and focusing entirely on Des. “They understood why I needed to be a cop.”
&
nbsp; “Needed?” Des repeated the word like it intrigued him. “Not wanted? Interesting word choice.”
“Swear to God, Des,” Lillian grit out. “Shut. Up. It’s none of your business.”
Rafe gave her a quick squeeze. “No, it’s okay, he’s right. I never had any interest in being a cop until the night some slimebag pointed a gun at my father and robbed him.”
“Oh, my God!” Thea gasped.
Lillian grasped his arm in an iron vise. “Your dad was okay, right?”
Rafe nodded, thankful when her grip loosened. “Long story short, they never caught the guy, but I remember all the times the cops came by the restaurant to talk to my parents during the investigation, how relieved my mother always seemed to see them there. How safe she felt knowing they were keeping an eye on the place.” Rafe shrugged. “I already knew I would never be as good as my brothers in the kitchen. Not that I ever wanted to be. So, I chose a career where I could make a difference.”
“And protect your family,” Lillian murmured.
“Yeah, maybe.” Definitely.
Uncomfortable with the personal turn the conversation had taken, Rafe was grateful when the waitress arrived with their main courses. By the time she was done transferring the dishes onto the table, the air was thick with tantalizing and familiar aromas that made Rafe’s mouth water.
Thea stared at the multitude of steaming bowls and platters. “There’s no way this can be what we ordered. It’s way too much food.”
“My mother has a tendency to believe people don’t know how hungry they are until she shows them,” Rafe said with a laugh, reaching for one of the beef empanadas. “Dig in. I guarantee she’ll be by at some point to check on our progress.”
Whether it was the threat of disappointing Señora Delgado, or the lure of the delicious food, they dug in with gusto. At first, conversation between mouthfuls was about the dishes, which were passed around and shared family style so everyone got a taste of everything. Rafe made sure they knew the heat levels of each dish before they tried them, but the black bean soup still caught everyone—except Rafe—by surprise, leading to a mass raid on the bread basket.
