by Lia London
Taken aback by Sofia’s boldness, Antonio stepped to the side, intending to allow Zaira to enter, but his foot landed on something hard and poky. Before he could stop himself, he jumped back. Zaira’s eyes widened, and he watched as if in slow motion as she reached to catch him while still holding the plates. He jerked back further to avoid a collision and sat on the arm of the couch. Zaira followed the laws of gravity and toppled into him, smashing the enchiladas into his chest.
“Ow!” He raised his arms to save his plate as she face-planted into the goo.
Time returned to its normal speed, and for a beat, the room fell silent. Then, everyone but Zaira burst into laughter.
“Which setting is that, Z? Crash or Charm?” asked Sofia with a knowing smirk.
“Emilio, take this!” cried Antonio, passing off the plate he’d saved. He helped Zaira unstick herself from his front, trying hard to regain his composure. Even disheveled and covered in sauce, she was a fiery kind of cute. Picante and dulce at the same time.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, fruitlessly wiping at the stain on the front of her scrubs. “Oh great. This was my only clean uniform.”
“Can’t you do laundry tonight?” asked Sofia, still chuckling as she helped Emilio gather toys into a tote bag.
Zaira groaned. “Who has time to go to the laundromat?”
“We’ve got a washer and dryer,” offered Carlos. “You can wash your stuff here.”
Antonio widened his eyes meaningfully at Carlos. “I don’t think she wants—”
“Oh my gosh, that is so nice of you!” Sofia jumped to her feet and hugged Carlos. “Z, why don’t you give him your scrubs, and he can run a load for you?”
Zaira parroted Antonio’s earlier expression. “I don’t think he wants—”
“Sure, he does!” said Carlos with a wide grin. He rose and brought a happy Gabi to Zaira, playing one-handed peek-a-boo along the way.
Antonio stared down at his own soiled clothes. “I have to wash my stuff anyway. It’s the least I can do. This looks super tasty, though. If you grab me a fork, I’ll eat it right off my shirt.”
For the first time, Zaira cracked a smile which evolved into a snicker and then a stifled giggle.
“You need a tissue?” he teased.
“More like a roll of paper towels,” she said.
Antonio chuckled. “Emilio, can you please get this cleaned up off the floor, and then you two can eat this portion here.” He addressed Zaira gingerly. “I can help with the laundry. I mean, just this once, of course.”
“Really?” Her face lost its savage edge.
“Sure. Why don’t you bring any scrubs you need washed over here, and I’ll get that done for you before bedtime.”
“Awesome!” answered Sofia, tugging at Zaira’s shoulder. “She’ll be right back. Thanks again for watching Gabi.” She pranced out into the night with the toddler in her arms.
“Hey, I’m the one that did all the work,” said Carlos.
“I cleaned up!” protested Emilio.
“I’ll be back in a few,” said Zaira with a sheepish smile. “Thanks, boys!” she called as she closed the door behind her. A second later, she re-opened the door. “And I’ll bring more enchiladas, too. You know, without the layer of carpet.”
The door clicked shut, and the Seneca boys stared at it, as if waiting.
“She’s totally into you,” said Carlos.
Antonio rolled his neck and gaped at his little brother. “Are you kidding me?”
“She literally fell for you, man.”
“Do not go there. Because of this laundry business, I’m not going to be able to help you with your homework as much.”
Carlos waved this worry away and strode into the kitchen. “Who wants to study earth science when there’s all this chemistry going on?” He let out a guttural chuckle. “Get it? Chemistry?”
“What does that mean?” asked Emilio.
Antonio ruffled his hair, noting too late the enchilada sauce covering his hand. “It means your brother is very thirteen.” He grimaced. “And you and I need to take showers quick before we run a load of laundry.”
Carlos held out forks to each of them. “You might want to eat this first because I will hog it all if you disappear into the shower.”
“It’s good?” Antonio stabbed at a piece until it broke free. He popped it into his mouth, not knowing what to expect. “Oh wow.”
“Hot and spicy, just like Zaira, huh?” Carlos wagged his eyebrows.
“You’re hopeless,” said Antonio, tossing his fork into the sink. Still, as he undressed to take a quick shower, he let the flavors roll over his tongue, savoring the distinct spices. Delicious and unique.
Just like Zaira.
Once in her clean flannel pajamas, Zaira relaxed until she realized she’d shooed Sofia out the door without giving her the rest of the enchiladas and her pile of scrubs to run over to Antonio’s house.
“Dang it. Now I have to get dressed and drag you and all this crap over there.” She looked at Gabriela’s sleepy face and kissed her chubby cheeks. “I’m sorry, honey. One more time out. Can you be a big girl and walk close to Mommy while I carry this over to Carlos and Emilio’s?”
“Ca-lo, Emi!”
Zaira stared. “Did you just say Carlos, Emilio?”
“Ca-lo, Emi!” repeated Gabi, pointing at the door.
A smile bloomed on Zaira’s face. “So, you liked being with them?”
Gabi toddled to the door, pointing her pudgy fingers. “Go Ca-lo, Emi!”
Relief pressed a sigh from Zaira’s lips. “Well, I’m glad. Let’s go see Ca-lo, Emi.”
Stuffing her feet into her nurse clogs, she decided her jammies were clothes enough for the errand. A little drizzle never stopped an Oregonian. With a garbage bag full of her scrubs in one hand and a plate of enchiladas in the other, she stopped in front of the door. “I don’t suppose you can open that for me, Gabi?”
Gabi stretched up onto her toes and palmed the doorknob with both hands for a moment before getting enough of a grip to turn it. Slowly backing up, she pulled the door open a foot.
Zaira gasped. Antonio stood with his fist poised to knock, his mouth hanging open in surprise.
“Wow, Gabriela! Gracias!” He beamed down at her before shifting his gaze to Zaira. “Oh, we were on the same wave length. I thought you might need a hand when your cousin drove off.” He took the laundry bag from her without hesitation. “Want me to bring this by tonight, or better in the morning? I know about bedtimes and all that.”
Zaira stared at Antonio trying to process the paradox. As clumsy as he might be—and how could she talk?—he definitely showed signs of being a responsible adult. He simultaneously came across as more handsome and more totally average in the damp glow of her porch light.
“You’re not wearing a coat.” Why had she said something so stupid?
He grinned. “Neither are you.”
“Go Ca-lo, Emi,” insisted Gabriela.
Antonio’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! You had fun, chiquita linda?”
Zaira’s brain worked like a slow-drip IV, feeding her coherent thoughts too slowly to participate. Why was he standing here again? “Oh, and this.” She held out the pan. “You think it’s okay if I pay the boys all in one lump at the end of the week?”
“Probably. They won’t have time to spend it before then anyway. And you don’t need to give us more. That other piece was huge. Plenty for the boys.”
“What about you?”
“I didn’t earn it.” He shrugged. “So, tonight or in the morning for the laundry. And do you use a special detergent or is Fluf ‘n’ Soft okay?”
“Fluf ‘n’ Soft?” Zaira snickered, her mind rejoining the present company. “A house full of stallions like you guys uses Fluf ‘n’ Soft?” She rolled her eyes at herself. How could she call him a stallion to his face?
Antonio eased the plate from her hand. “Whoa, there. Let’s not drop the rest of it. It’s too good to wa
ste.”
“You had some?” His compliment triggered a dreamy feeling. “Did you like it?”
“Best thing we’ve eaten all month,” he said.
A random thought drifted by. “Better than Thanksgiving dinner with Jill Ripley?”
Antonio let out a silent laugh, which made no sense to her. Why would he laugh about spending the holidays with a gorgeous celebrity?
“Yeah, Jill’s in-laws are super nice,” he said. “Mrs. Halsey sets out a good spread, but your enchiladas are …” He kissed his fingertips.
Gabi mimicked the gesture, and Antonio’s shoulders shook with amusement.
“You don’t make noise when you laugh.” Zaira clapped her hand onto her forehead. What was up with the disconnect between her brain and her mouth?
Antonio gave her a perplexed smile and shifted the bag of laundry over his shoulder. “Uh, yeah. I guess not. So, I’ll try to get this done in the next two hours. Is that going to work?”
Zaira clenched her teeth. Hadn’t he asked her half a zillion times when she wanted her clothes back? “Tonight’s fine. Thanks again. Gabi had fun with Carlos and Emilio. She even said their names, and she doesn’t do that for anyone. They made a big impression on her.”
Antonio looked genuinely pleased. “I’m glad. They’re good boys. Hey, uh…” He gestured with the plate of enchiladas. “I wonder how you feel about them doing the babysitting at your place.”
“That would make it easier at the end of the day, huh? No going back and forth with baby gear and pans of food. They can take whatever I make with them when they go home.” She stood taller, glad her capacity to speak in logical sentences had returned. “Let’s do that, maybe starting Friday?”
“Okay. I’ll let them know.” He waved the enchiladas. “You sure about this? I’ll have Carlos run the plates back over with the laundry when we’re done.”
A twinge of disappointment poked her ribs. Antonio would not return himself. “All right. Gabi will be glad to see him.”
“Isn’t Gabi going to bed soon?”
“Oh.” She nodded at the yawning toddler hugging her knee. “Right. I probably better, too. It’s been a long day.”
Antonio chewed his lower lip. “Hey, I really am sorry about the way things worked with that shift. I asked for a nurse, and the hospital told me you were the only one who—”
She held up a hand. “It’ll be okay. The abuelos are cute, and you’re being super nice—the boys, I mean—about helping with Gabi.” She rocked forward onto her toes. “Ooh, speaking of which. Do you think I could have the boys watch her this Saturday in the morning, just this once? I’ll pay them, of course.”
“But the shift at La Casa is in the afternoon.”
“I know, but I need to throw a bridal shower for my cousin.”
Antonio lowered a brow. “The one I met?”
“Believe it or not, yes. She’s engaged to be married.”
“Really.” Skepticism pulled his features into humorous lines, and Zaira giggled.
“Really.”
“She’s kind of …”
“Hot for you,” finished Zaira, immediately hiding her blush in the back of her hand. She made a show of lifting Gabi into her arms. “Time for bed, hija mia.”
“Oh. Right.” Antonio stepped out from under the protection of the balcony overhead with a little wave. “Thanks again for the dinner. Buenas noches, Gabi. Buenas noches, Zaira.”
“Buenas noches, Antonio,” replied Zaira, closing the door.
Gabi opened and closed her fingers in a drowsy wave. “Noche To-no.”
Surprised Gabi once again used someone’s name, Zaira shifted her to eye level. “It’s Antonio. Say An-to-ni-o.”
Gabi giggled and flopped forward to hug Zaira’s neck. “To-no!” She planted a slobbery kiss on Zaira’s cheek.
“Oh now, don’t be linking Antonio and kisses in your little head, hija. That’s dangerous ground.” She opened the door a crack in time to see Antonio slip inside his own home. “But I get where you’re coming from. I really do.”
For the next two days, Antonio kept drifting in and out of a mental fog. At La Casa, he taught ESL, planned various occupational workshops, and generally worked on automatic pilot. However, when the afternoon came, his senses went on high alert, straining for a glimpse of Zaira’s luscious hair or the sound of her warm voice lilting down the hall. Even the scent of her hand sanitizer made his heart pound a little harder, and he found himself taking the long route through the building to pass the Clinica on his way to the activity room, the copy machine, or the office.
Of course, every time he did, at least one of the abuelitas would waylay him into a conversation, and he would use the time to speak well of Zaira’s skill and how they should follow her instructions carefully. At least twice, he caught her eavesdropping, and her grateful smile filled him with a sensation of light.
On Friday, he lingered long enough to catch her packing up her medical equipment, knowing he should have gone home sooner to meet the boys but unable to resist one last chance to see her.
“I have to admit it’s nice to see a young, fresh face in this building after all the wrinkly ones,” he said, leaning one shoulder on the door jamb.
“You have a young face,” she countered pleasantly, zipping up her bag.
“But I don’t look at myself.”
She stood and slung the bag over her shoulder. “What about Irene? She’s only halfway between us and ancient.”
He shook his head. “She’s three thousand years old in her brain. Like a mummy or something.”
Zaira’s laugh came reluctantly. “Ow. You don’t like her?”
With a shrug, he flipped off the light and stepped back to let Zaira out of the room. “Don’t ask that when she’s my boss, which means your boss.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Seriously, though, all she cares about is getting me to do more stuff for free.”
“She’s the Business Director, isn’t she?” Zaira tugged her messy bun loose, and Antonio grew distracted by the thick locks tumbling to her shoulders. “I guess that comes with the territory,” said Zaira. “She’s probably the one who answers to corporate.”
Falling into step beside her, Antonio tried and failed not to drink in her smooth skin with his eyes. Even in shapeless scrubs, she was pretty in a sporty way. “And what about you? What comes with the territory of being a nurse? A weak sense of smell?”
“Huh?” She chuckled. “Oh, yeah. You get used to old-people smells. After Gabi’s diapers, I think I can handle anything.”
He pushed open the side door, holding it for her as she passed, feeling a warmth he couldn’t explain emanating from her nearness despite the dark rain outside. “Carlos said he got her to use the little potty thing twice yesterday.”
She eyed him with a dubious half grin. “Carlos is either a miracle worker or a dirty liar. That girl insists on wearing her princess pull-ups every day.”
“Well there’s your problem. She likes the pull-ups. Give her boring underwear, and she’ll use the toilet.”
Zaira paused, shielding her face from the rain. “Are you giving me parenting advice?”
Antonio held up an appeasing hand. “No, no. I’m sorry. I just … I don’t actually know how to raise little girls.” The corner of his mouth flitted into an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, I know how annoying it is when people tell you how to parent.”
“It’s okay. You might be right about the pull-ups.”
“I’m just winging it on the parenting thing, doing the best I can.”
“Aren’t we all?” She resumed walking. “How long have you been playing daddy to your brothers?”
“Since I was sixteen. Well, the first two years, we had help from sponsors here who took us in when they heard our immigration case.”
Zaira stopped beside her car and wiped the rain from her forehead. “You came up from Mexico in your teens? How is your English so good?”
Antonio blushed. “I don’t know. Maybe
I watched too much TV.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “My teachers said I had a gift for languages. Maybe I should take up Portugues or Italiano.”
She unlocked her car door and slung her bag into the passenger seat. “My mom came to America when she was six, and she still has a little bit of an accent. You must be smarter than you look.”
He almost frowned at the jibe, but she winked.
“And you look pretty smart to me,” she added. “Except you’re dumb to stand here talking to me in the rain when I’m going to see you in a few minutes at home anyway. Why don’t you come over and eat at my place with the boys tonight instead of taking it home?” She hesitated. “I mean, unless you have a date or something.”
“That would be great!” His stood taller. “What should I bring?”
“A willingness to help me hang streamers and blow up balloons?”
Antonio exhaled a laugh. “Oh, so I have to work for my supper?”
“I made my famous arroz con pollo. It’ll be worth it.” Lowering herself into the driver’s seat, she cast him a sideways grin. “It makes grown men cry.”
“I’ll be sure to wear waterproof mascara, then.”
Her spontaneous giggle twisted his stomach in a happy knot. “You’re so weird.”
“What?” He fluttered his fingers over his face. “I’ve had to wear make-up before. TV, remember? They put about four pounds of that stuff on my eyelashes to make me look…whatever.” With his hand on the open door for balance, he crouched lower to meet her eyes. “How do you find so much time to cook? You make everything from scratch. It’s amazing.” Even in the dimness of the dome light, he could see how her cheeks rose with a smile.
“I do prep work on my days off, so it comes together faster.”
“Maybe you’re smarter than you look, too.”
She pursed her lips in a sour pout, which only made him laugh.
“And you look brilliante!” He stood up and closed the door gently. Stepping back, he waved through the windshield at her.
She waved her fingers back and started the motor, jolting forward over the concrete wheel stop.
