by Lia London
“R is for Reverse!” he called through cupped hands, laughing.
Obviously ruffled, she worked the stick and eased backwards. Rolling her window down, she yelled, “Don’t even say it!”
“What?” With both hands, he slicked the rain back from his brow and grinned.
She thrust a lone finger through the window opening. “Don’t say it! I’ll see you in half an hour.”
Antonio meandered after her in slow motion as she retreated from the parking lot. A moment later, he sat shivering in his Subaru, wondering if Carlos’ girl-craziness might have rubbed off on him, because he could not stop thinking about the sweet shape of her lips and the intensity of her eyes.
He shook his head and started the motor. “That’s one bella mujer.”
Chapter 5 ~ The Shower
Zaira’s hips swayed to the salsa music as she put the finishing touches on the refreshment trays. She surveyed the work Antonio and the boys had done the night before, covering every inch of the ceiling with gold streamers and pearly white balloons. What an evening it had been, watching him climb on the kitchen chair to hang the decorations, his muscles stretching his long-sleeved t-shirt. With Carlos and Emilio keeping Gabi enthralled, she’d let her eyes wander away from baby duty, and their natural destination was any angle of Antonio currently facing her.
A knock sounded on the door, and a moment later Sofia and Tia Julia bustled in, dripping with rain and trailing armfuls of decorations and small bolts of gold and white cloth.
“Oh my gosh, it had to rain today,” complained Sofia.
Zaira regarded her with a smirk. “I know. How weird in December. In Oregon. At the Coast.”
“Oh, shut up.” Sofia pouted and dropped her load onto the counter, just missing a tray of fancy frosted cupcakes. “There’s a difference between sprinkles, showers, and rain, and this is too much water to leave the door open and catch a glimpse of you-know-who across the street.”
Palming her forehead, Zaira snorted and turned to her aunt. “Bienvenida, Tia.”
Tia Julia, even shorter and more voluptuous than Sofia, turned in a slow circle, obviously searching the kitchen counters for space to deposit her supplies. “It’s some decorations,” she responded in Spanish.
“I already decorated, see?” She swept her hand at the ceiling.
Tia Julia nodded with approval and let Zaira relieve her of the bolts of cloth. “It’s a good start, but it needs more.”
Knowing her relatives better than to protest, Zaira scooped Gabi into her arms and watched as Tia Juila draped sparkly gold bunting all over the walls. At the table, Sofia studiously rearranged the refreshments, sampling each more than once.
“You’re messing up my display,” teased Zaira.
Sofia shrugged. “It’s for me, isn’t it?”
“If you eat too many, you won’t fit into your wedding gown.”
“I’ve got time.” Sofia shook a sugary finger at the ceiling. “You and Gabriela did all this?”
A startling flush took over Zaira’s cheeks as she confessed, “I got help from the boys.”
Sofia clasped her hands in a rapturous pose. “You mean the man and his boys?”
“Yes. Put your tongue back in your head, Sofia. You’re marrying your own good man.” She hefted Gabi to her other hip. “But you’re in luck. You’ll get to see Antonio’s little brothers when they come over to take Gabi. They’re babysitting.”
“That’s good.” Tia Julia announced, though whether she referred to the childcare or the decorations, Zaira wasn’t sure.
“Yeah, bridal showers aren’t appropriate for little girls,” agreed Sofia. “We don’t want Gabriela learning too much about the facts of life and love.”
“She’s two, Sofia. It’s not like she’d have a clue what we’re talking about. Besides, I’m hosting this, so don’t get too excited about us playing naughty games. I didn’t hire a male stripper or anything.”
Sofia dipped her finger into the edge of a pan of flan. “You’re so boring.”
Before Zaira could respond, the doorbell rang. Sofia flung the door wide to welcome in a van-load of giggling guests carrying colorful gift sacks with frilly bows. Within ten minutes, the rest of the party arrived, and Zaira glanced at the clock on the microwave nervously. When were the boys coming to get Gabi? Though her plans didn’t include anything too risqué, she didn’t want them walking in on her first major order of business.
With a sigh, she set Gabi’s diaper bag by the door and clapped her hands to get the group’s attention. It took a moment because everyone was busy exclaiming about Tia Julia’s efforts to make the place into some kind of fairy princess court.
“Okay, before we get started on the games and presents, we need our bride-to-be to look more like a bride.” Zaira gave an exaggerated wink to Sofia. “You didn’t bring your gown with you, did you?”
Sofia gave Zaira an incredulous eye roll. “Uh, no. Duh.”
“That’s okay,” said Zaira with a wicked glint in her eye. “I’ve got something you can wear for now.” She reached behind the couch and pulled out a 12-pack of Charmin toilet paper. “Ladies, I’ll need your help wrapping the bride in her beautiful, ultra-soft wedding gown.”
Peals of laughter rang out, and Zaira split open the pack to toss the individual rolls to each of the guests.
“Oh, you’re hilarious,” said Sofia with a snort. “But I’m not moving from my throne.” She patted the arms of Zaira’s tired old recliner. “You’ll have to dress someone else in a TP gown.”
The front door cracked open and Antonio’s head peeked in. “Sorry, I knocked but no one answered. I just came to pick up—”
“Him!” squealed Sofia. “Wrap him!”
“Huh?” Antonio furrowed his brows.
“I’d run if I were you,” warned Zaira with a laughing flick of her wrist. When he didn’t move, the ladies swarmed forward and dragged him in from the rain.
“Oh, you’re soaking wet,” said Zaira. “Let me get Gabi, so you can—”
“Hey!”
Zaira turned and stared in horror as two of the guests tugged Antonio’s zip-up hoodie off him, revealing only a black Star Wars t-shirt underneath.
“Ladies, come on! Leave him alone!” called Zaira, her hands raised to protect him from the onslaught.
Sofia wriggled through the throng and planted herself inches from Antonio. “Do us a favor? This is my bridal shower and stupid Zaira forgot to hire a male dancer for—”
Antonio’s face stretched with evident panic, and he looked to Zaira for help. “I don’t…uh, you know…do that kind of dance. I just came to get Gabi.”
“And you can take Gabi,” said Sofia. “After.”
“After what?”
Zaira hid a smile beneath her knuckle. Antonio looked mildly terrified, and she knew she should rescue him. Gently shoving everyone back, she placed a hand on his arm. “It’s a tradition in our family to wrap the novia in a toilet paper gown for her bridal shower, but Sofia’s too busy stuffing her face, so—”
“So, we’re wondering if you’d be willing to wear the TP instead!” interrupted Sofia. The others cheered, and Tia Julia whistled.
Hiding her face from the crowd, Zaira mouthed, You don’t have to do this.
He tilted his head a little closer, and for a second his nearness rattled her. “Will I have to dance or strip or anything?” he whispered.
“Of course not. Just stand there like a house getting TP’d by a bunch of teenagers.”
When he didn’t object, Zaira’s breath hitched. His penetrating gaze showed a hint of mischief. “You’re going to owe me for this.”
She gaped. “You mean you’ll do it?” She stifled a giggle. “Do you realize how popular I’m going to be for arranging this?”
Antonio winked and stepped back, spreading his arms wide. “Go ahead. Throw your best.”
“Nice try, but you have to take off your shirt first,” said Sofia, arching her brow.
He mirr
ored her expression. “Were you going to take off your shirt for this game?”
“My chest isn’t as pretty as yours,” she quipped. The women hooted and laughed.
Zaira covered her face with her hands. “Antonio, you don’t have to do this.”
In a smooth and mesmerizing move, he pulled off his t-shirt and handed it to Zaira. “You’ll owe me twice.”
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she gasped at the vision. Glorious, grinning, yet totally down-to-earth, Antonio was so much more attractive in this silly, live setting than he had been in the sexy scenes onscreen.
He spread his arms wide again, and the women in the room applauded before launching the toilet paper rolls up and over him, lacing back and forth in a happy tornado of tissue until Antonio resembled the Stay Puft Marshmallow man. At last the ladies collapsed breathless and giggling into their chairs.
Antonio made a show of examining their handiwork. “This is an interesting tradition.” He gave a pointed look at Zaira, the only person who had not joined in the fray. “Do you have anything to add to this?”
Zaira glanced at the t-shirt in her hands. “Oh. Right.” She scanned the floor and found a stretch of about twelve squares. She draped his shirt over her shoulder and tied the strip of TP around his head. “This is a crown because you were such a good sport about this. A real king.”
Their eyes locked, and she could tell he was suppressing a grin. “Do I get to pick a queen?”
The guests laughed and several of the women raised their hands to vie for his attention, but Zaira shook her head. “I get to pick.” She turned to Gabriela, who held fistfuls of crumpled toilet paper. “Come on, Gabi. You get to go with el Rey Antonio and be his princesa!”
Gabi bolted forward and threw her arms around Antonio’s knees.
He lifted her into his 2-ply-armored arms and ruffled her curls. “Ready to go see Ca-lo and Emi? Maybe we can dress them in this stuff, too?”
She dabbed his face with a wad of toilet paper, much to the delight of the ladies.
“Go on. Get out of here,” ordered Zaira, handing him the diaper bag. “Only grown women allowed.”
He waved good-naturedly and shouldered the bag. “I don’t see any of those here, but I’ll still go. See you later.” He waved at Sofia. “Enjoy your shower.”
“Enjoy yours,” said Zaira, tilting her chin at the pouring rain. Leaning out the door after him, she added, “I’ll be by when we’re done, and we can negotiate the price of your humiliation.”
“It’s okay. It’s for you and Sofia.”
“And the internet. I think Tia Julia had her phone out.”
Antonio blinked slowly and shook his head. With an exaggerated sigh, he stepped out from under the balcony. “I’ll never get a serious movie deal with this kind of exposure.”
Zaira held tight to the door, trying to hide her trembling body as his white gown dissolved in the rain, plastering a milky film to his beautiful brown body. When at last she shut the door and returned to face the other women, Sofia met her gaze with a knowing smirk.
“You owe him two,” said Sofia with a throaty gurgle. “Lucky you.”
Zaira blushed and stuffed a cupcake into her mouth to hide the blooming grin.
Chapter 6 ~ Something’s Cooking
“Here’s your shirt and hoodie back, and I saved you some of the flan.” Zaira’s eyes flickered to his forehead. “How did your crown not dissolve in the rain?”
Antonio fingered the TP wrapping his head and stepped back to let Zaira enter. “This is a fresh one, and it isn’t a crown. It’s my pirate headband. We’re doing the macho dress-up stuff over here.” He bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t sounded too ridiculous.
The boys, hearing about what happened to him at the party, insisted on wasting one roll of toilet paper making headbands, sashes and boots.
“Ah, I see.” Zaira waved at Carlos and Emilio. “Ahoy there!”
They nodded her way and resumed fencing with fly swatters.
“Where’s Gabi?”
“Oh, she crashed about an hour ago.”
Zaira’s forehead wrinkled with obvious disbelief. “You got her to take a nap?”
“Yep, she’s sleeping like a baby.” He winked and then bit his tongue, wishing he’d stop saying stupid things.
“We got her to take a dump, too,” called Emilio proudly.
“Wait, what?” Zaira gaped. “I didn’t pack her little training potty.”
“I just held her over the toilet,” said Carlos. “She thought it was hilarious when the poop fell in and splashed her legs.”
“Lovely.” She sounded anything but pleased.
“Was that wrong? I promise he didn’t drop her in,” said Antonio. “He was very careful.”
She swept past him to the coffee table and set down his clothes and the plate of dessert. “No, no. That’s fine. I just can’t get her to do anything for me. What are you? Some kind of toddler whisperer?”
Antonio shook his head, noting a weariness creasing her brow. “Not at all. Carlos and Emilio are the ones she listens to.”
“But you got her to take a nap?”
“She fell asleep on my stomach when we were watching TV, so I set her up on my bed.”
“Your bed?” Zaira twisted her lips. “Is she going to fall off?”
“No, it’s a big bed and she’s in the middle. I put pillows all around her. She should be okay.” He gestured with his head towards the master bedroom that opened into the other side of the living room. “I’ll show you.”
She followed him across the room, dodging a parry and thrust by Carlos.
He hesitated, leaning on the door jamb as she tiptoed inside. Gabriela dozed peacefully in the center of the bed, her arms curled around her stuffed hippo and her lips pursed with a soft snore. Zaira kneeled beside her, sliding her hand affectionately down her daughter’s back.
“Sounds like she’s getting a stuffy nose.”
“I hope she didn’t get sick when I carried her over here in the rain.”
Zaira gave him a heavy-lidded look. “Rain doesn’t make people sick. Germs do.”
Antonio shrugged. “You’re the nurse.”
“I always hate to wake her up.”
Antonio smiled at her tenderness. “Yeah, I know what you mean. They’re quiet and cute.” He hesitated. “You can stay if you want. I mean, I know you work at two, but…whatever you want.”
Something in the way Zaira met his eyes had changed since the TP gown incident earlier. The tightness in his chest failed to squash the pounding of his heart. Zaira didn’t behave anything like other women he’d ever been even mildly attracted to. Most either ignored him, deeming him nothing more than another young immigrant, or they slobbered on him because of his celebrity status. Zaira acted like he was just a man. A normal man. He found it both refreshing and a little frustrating, though he chided himself for wishing she’d take an interest in him.
He didn’t have time for a serious relationship anyway, right?
“If you don’t mind, I would like to wait about half an hour,” she whispered.
Antonio gripped the molding around the door to steady the weak-kneed feeling her proximity gave him. What was wrong with him? He’d been around famous and gorgeous Hollywood superstars who never affected him like this. Zaira was beautiful to him, but … in a simple, ordinary way.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
Zaira’s searching gaze sent a shiver dancing across his chest, and his hand traced its path absently. “What? No, uh…”
She folded her arms, still standing close and speaking in low tones. “I imagine she’s the youngest female to sleep in your bed.”
Heat crept up his neck. “I don’t have women sleeping over here.”
“Afraid the boys will walk in on you having sex?”
Bristling, he drew a deep breath and lowered his brows. “I’m not a user.”
Zaira’s mouth popped open incredulously. “What? You, the Latin Lover?”<
br />
“That was a character. A script.”
“You played it well,” she challenged.
“They paid me well,” he said flatly.
“But you had women all over the country fantasizing—”
“I hated it.” He turned and paced into the kitchen, talking over his shoulder. “I only stayed long enough to make the money I needed for our home. Then I got out.”
Zaira caught up with him, leaning in to keep her voice down. “You screwed up. All America saw you flub your lines.”
“You think I can’t act well enough to fake flubbing lines?” He pressed his lips together, worried he’d raised his voice too much. Glancing at the boys, he saw them engrossed in a video game, oblivious to their conversation. When his gaze returned to her, he saw tears welling in her eyes. “What? What did I do?”
“I’m so sorry.” She frowned. “I misjudged you.”
Stung, Antonio moved deeper into the kitchen, away from the line of sight if the boys should turn around. “How could you think I was like that? Have I ever treated you like that?”
Zaira folded her arms and shrugged, shaking her head. “No, but—”
“But what?” He pulled off his TP headband and wadded it into a ball.
“But you’re always extra nice to us—me and Gabi, and Sofia, and—”
“Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m nice.”
Zaira licked her lips and stared at the floor. “I guess you really are. That’s what all the abuelos say.”
Antonio softened at the mention of his friends at La Casa. “Old people don’t lie unless they’re in politics or show business.”
A laugh burst forth from Zaira, deep and warm, changing her countenance in an instant. Still hugging herself, she lifted her eyes to his. “All right, I repent of my bad opinion.”
His stomach pinched. “You really had a bad opinion of me?”
Zaira’s smile shrank. “No. I think I tried to, but the truth is you are nicer than just about anyone I know.”
A weight lifted from his chest, and he stood taller. “Muchisimas gracias. And you are a brilliant cook.”
