She looked at him. She knew why. Because she was never the smart one – that was Barbie. She wasn’t the accomplished one – Barbie again. Monica was the helper, the one in the background. Her mother and sister had always made that clear. She knew her place in life. Right in line behind them. Carlos didn’t know them. He’d never seen where she rightfully belonged.
But, wasn’t she breaking out of her family’s mold for her? Wasn’t she determined to have meaning in her own life? She had important things to do in her own right. Like being a role model for Luisa. Like leading a team of people to create a fantastic advertising campaign. Like realizing her dream of becoming an actress.
Like forming a relationship with a man who made her so crazy with desire and passion, she didn’t recognize herself.
She gazed at Carlos and for a split second she tried to see herself as he did. Confident, accomplished, sure. She caught a sight of it for a breath of a moment. She wanted to be that woman Carlos thought she was. Maybe if she spent enough time with him she’d become it for real. He’d be the sun that coaxed her seedling out of the ground to grow into a strong fruit-bearing plant.
“You’re not eating your sandwich,” he noted. With all the self-morphing thoughts whirling around her head, eating was the last thing on her mind. She laughed and handed it to him.
“Sure?”
She nodded and he attacked her sandwich.
She was glad she came. This man was good for her. She just hoped she could live up to the traits he thought she already had.
Carlos returned to the Toyota Corolla he was working on. His belly full and his heart light, he reviewed the work he’d been doing in the car’s engine.
“Well, well. Whistling a happy tune, are you?”
He looked up at Hank, the owner of the shop. Had he been whistling? He hadn’t noticed. “What?”
“A broad brings you lunch and you come back to work dancing a jig. Did you two slip away for a quickie in the shed?”
Carlos sighed. He looked back in the engine. “No. Just sandwiches.”
Hank roared with laughter, which, to Carlos’ chagrin, attracted the attention of the other men in the shop, causing them to look up from their work. “So ham and cheese gets you this cheery, eh?” He let loose another guttural roar, ending with a smoker’s hack.
Resisting the urge to go pound the guy on the back, Carlos turned back to his work.
“That your new woman?” Now recovered, Hank picked up the thread of conversation, slight though it was, and pressed on.
Carlos sighed and put the engine out of his mind for now. “I’ve been out with her once. She was thinking about me and brought me lunch.” He stopped, and glared at his boss, willing him to say anything else. He didn’t. “That’s about it.”
Hank held his palms out toward Carlos. “Okay, okay. This ain’t the first lady who came to the shop. How about that Gloria? She was hot, eh?”
Anger flared in Carlos’ chest. What was he getting at? That Monica wasn’t hot? Well, that was fine. He didn’t want the guys ogling Monica like they used to ogle Gloria and countless other women whose main assets were evident to the naked eye of any man who bothered to look in her direction. Monica was different. She was classy, intelligent. She had an important job, and she was good at it.
What she saw in him, he wasn’t sure, but he hoped it was more than just physical.
That thought, as soon as it passed through his brain, stopped him cold. What, did he want her to love him for his mind?
He smirked, knowing it was ridiculous. Of course, he wanted her to desire his body, as he desired hers. But this time it was different. He needed to guard against falling into the same traps he always fell into with women. Each relationship started based on physical attraction, it went fast and hot like a Nascar race, and then it ended quickly, like crossing a finish line. Often, there was a fiery crash and burn at the end. He was the Dale Earnhardt of the dating world.
Hank must’ve tired of the subject of Carlos’ lunch visitor because he finally meandered away, leaving Carlos to finish the Corolla.
What a difference a date makes.
Monica left the theater Wednesday to prepare for her second date with Carlos. She thought back to when she was getting ready for her first date – emotion verging on hysteria. She didn’t know what to wear, what he’d do, what to say.
She stopped at the mall to breeze through Macy’s. If the perfect clothing item reached out and grabbed her, she’d buy it. If it didn’t, that was fine, too.
Fortunately, the shopping gods were on her side this time. Within a few minutes she saw a cute cropped sweater in a luscious shade that reminded her of the inside of a kiwi fruit. She selected one in her size and flattened it against her chest. No baggy sweaters for her tonight. It was definitely form-fitting, not a style she normally chose. But for Carlos, and for her new self-confident persona, it was the perfect choice. A pair of black pants rounded out the casual outfit, and she mentally selected her shoes and jewelry from her closet while she paid and raced back to her car. Time to shower and pamper herself – shave her legs, lotion all over, take more care with her makeup.
At seven on the dot, her doorbell rang. Just in time, too. She’d planned the prep time perfectly. But if she had to sit much longer, she’d come up with something to fret about.
At the sight of Carlos on her doorstep, cleaned and shined for an evening with her, she felt something tumble deep within her. Would she ever stop having this intense response to the very sight of him? Even when she’d seen him a hundred times, a thousand times, a million.
“Hi,” she breathed. “You look great.” He took a step inside and leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited for his lips to connect with her cheek, but he surprised her. She gasped and soaked in the sensation of his warm lips on her own, his tongue probed gently through her opened mouth. Warmth filled her and her knees became so shaky she thought they might fold beneath her.
Could he read her mind? Just as the thought flitted through her brain, he pulled her into his strong arms. She felt safe there, and his mouth continued its exquisite assault on hers. She couldn’t get enough and stroked her fingers through his silky hair. A groan came from deep in his throat and she thrilled at the knowledge that she had caused it.
This man made her ache to do things alien to her normal behavior. If he lifted her up in those muscled arms right now, left the door standing open and carried her back to her bedroom, she’d do nothing but hurry him along. If she really stopped to think about how deeply she wanted him, it would scare her to death.
He ended the kiss, let his hand linger on her cheek and smiled. “Wow. Nice greeting.” He walked past her, but she didn’t shut the door – she was watching the glorious sight of his rear end hugged in blue jeans, so close she could reach out and touch it. He paused, then chuckled, turned back and shut the door himself.
“Like what you see?”
Her face bathed in warmth, she knew her skin had turned an embarrassed shade of pink. He’d caught her staring at his butt!
He chuckled again and grabbed her hand, pulling her to sit with him on the couch. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing some type of response was warranted, but not having a single clue what the proper one would be. He silenced her effectively by kissing her again.
“I’m not,” he said with a smile. “Ready to go?”
He took her to a huge movie plex and they chose an action adventure flick. After a couple hours of car chases, gun fights and macho profanity, they drove to a nearby restaurant and ordered a variety of appetizers to share.
After the waitress left, he put his hands on the table and stretched them toward her, his palms up. She put her hands in his and he squeezed them slightly. She loved how comfortable she felt touching him.
“How did your meeting go with your team?”
“Not too bad. I had everyone go around the room and tell us their name and background. Then I asked for one interesting fact about themselves
that no one in the room knew.”
He smiled. “What kinds of facts did you find out?”
She laughed. “One guy races dirt bikes in his spare time. One woman writes mystery novels and has an agent representing her. One guy had a liver transplant a few years ago. Hmm, what else?”
As she pondered the last few team members’ revelations, he asked, “What did you tell them about yourself? You had to tell them one too, right?”
She couldn’t believe she said it. She was thinking it, but she hadn’t realized it had popped out of her mouth until she saw his reaction. “I told them I’m dating a hot Latin lover.”
He grinned, shook his head, gave her hand a squeeze. “Seriously?”
Her mind raced. Staring at his butt, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, comments filled with sexual innuendos. This type of behavior was definitely not like her.
Or, was it the new her? The one he nurtured and helped blossom. What would she do if he actually took her up on it? What if he dropped his water glass right now and dragged her off to make love to her? Would she fight it?
Or go willingly?
She shook her head sadly. “No, I had a hard time coming up with anything unique or interesting about my life. I think I ended up telling them about my niece and nephew. Bor-ring.”
He gave her a look of complete astonishment. “You’re not boring. You’re mature.”
She made a pretend snoring sound. “Gee, thanks.”
He looked confused for a moment. “That’s not a cut-up. It’s good to be mature. In fact, I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to get there myself.”
Whereas, Monica thought she’d always been there, and had never experienced life in the fast lane.
“So, tell me about your niece and nephew.”
She smiled. “Spencer and Mae, ages four and one. The cutest kids in the world, yada yada yada. My sister Barbie is their mom, and she’s married to a politician. My mom and I spoil them as much as possible.”
He nodded.
“How about you?” she asked. “Do you have any nieces or nephews?”
He delayed his answer just long enough to clue Monica in there was a story there, and he was debating how much he should tell her. “No, Luisa is the only sibling I have left.” He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand.
“Did you have a sibling who died?”
He nodded grimly, staring at their joined hands. “I had an older brother who died when he was twenty. I was eighteen when it happened, and Luisa was an infant.”
“ Wow, that’s quite an age difference between siblings.”
He looked up at her. “You could say Luisa was an ‘oops’ baby.” A slow smile formed on his lips. “But it didn’t surprise me. My parents were so in love, it was unbelievable. Very affectionate with each other. My papa called a family meeting when they found out Mama was expecting. Neither Ricardo or I were shocked.” He chuckled, then went silent.
Monica waited. She wanted to hear about Ricardo’s death, but she didn’t know if he intended to open up to her. She wouldn’t push it if he wasn’t ready.
The noises in the restaurant commenced around them, making her feel sheltered in their booth.
“Ricardo won free tickets to a NFL football game in Kansas City. He and Papa went. Mama and I were waiting for them, holding dinner till they returned. But it got later and later. At midnight we got a phone call.”
Monica felt a tightening in her chest.
“They were in a car accident and neither survived. It was winter and there were icy patches on the highway. Judging from the looks of the vehicle, they must’ve gone quickly.”
Her mouth dropped open. She wanted to be closer to him, to comfort him of this terrible event that undoubtedly changed his life a decade ago. He continued to look at the tabletop, not meeting her eyes.
“From then on, it was just me and Mama taking care of Luisa. She got a job, then two. I finished high school and she refused to let me work to help her out. She wanted me to focus on education so I could get a decent job later. I didn’t like that she had to work so hard, partly because I never saw her. Just like now.”
The waitress arrived with platters of appetizers and fresh drinks. In the midst of Carlos’ heartbreaking story, food had lost its appeal.
After the waitress dropped off her load and left, Carlos cleared his throat. “It hasn’t been easy. Trying to raise a child in an untraditional family. Me and Mama – the odd couple.” He shook his head.
“So, you’ve been a father figure to Luisa since she never knew her own dad.”
He paused, considering. “No, Monica.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t make me sound like a saint. I haven’t been, not by a long shot.”
Monica studied his face that had turned suddenly tense. “But you took on the responsibility of helping your mother raise her, at an age when you could’ve gone off on your own.”
He nodded. “I’m there for Luisa, but not like I should be.”
Monica shook her head, wondering at his denial. “She loves you …”
He cut her off. “You only assume I was a father figure to her because that’s what you would’ve done. Not everyone is as responsible as you, Monica.”
Monica blinked, watching his stony face. What had happened here? Obviously, they’d ventured into an emotional subject matter. His tone made him sound annoyed. Had she crossed a line asking him such personal questions on their second date?
“Carlos,” she said. He pulled his hands back – intentionally or not, she wasn’t sure. “Tell me what’s going on. Are you angry at me for asking you these questions? Or, am I just being paranoid?” She tried a playful smile. “It’s been known to happen.”
He sat across from her, his face tight, his chest heaving a little. She gave him time to collect himself, while she toyed with a potato skin from the appetizer platter.
“It’s not you.”
She looked up at him. “Then what …?”
He dragged his hands through his hair. He shook his head. “I hate talking about this stuff.”
“What, about emotional stuff?”
He nodded. “How about we skip it?” He took a sip of his drink. “How did you like the movie?”
“Carlos. . ..”
He huffed out a breath and locked his gaze in on hers again. She nearly shuddered under the intensity of his stare.
“I’m sorry. We can change the subject if you want.”
Something like pain flickered across his face, then disappeared. He gazed at her for a quiet moment, sizing her up, then continued, “After my father and brother died, it was just Mama and I raising Luisa. I couldn’t rely on anyone other than Mama. After the loss, it seemed foolhardy to trust others. I needed to protect my remaining family members from harm.”
“Sure, you did. And look – Luisa is a lovely, bright, intelligent ten year old. You and your mother have done a great job.”
“It is more Mama than me, believe me. There were times I just couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, here I was, barely out of school, with a young child relying on me at home. It was almost like she was my own, but she wasn’t. I knew Mama needed the help, and my papa had instilled in me a strong work ethic, a sense of family duty. I wanted to be like him, I did. But I disappointed Mama time after time. It was too much. I wasn’t the man she needed me to be. I slipped back into my old ways. My irresponsible ways. I partied, I stayed out with my friends. Dated the wrong women. I didn’t care about the consequences. I wanted the escape. Sometimes when I heard Luisa’s cry, I wanted to run, to scream, to throw something.”
“But you were young! You literally lost your youth because of what happened to your father.”
“My father would not be happy with some of the choices I made. I know that. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life. He was a much better man than I am. He could’ve handled what life threw on him.”
Monica shook her head, her heart tight with aching for him.
“I don’t think you’re being fair on yourself. You were a young man, a boy, really, when your father died, leaving partial responsibility for a baby. Anyone in your position would’ve had a hard time with that.”
“This is why I was angry when I found out Mama had applied for a Big Sister to Luisa.”
She looked at him but he was busy rubbing his forefinger over a spot in the tabletop. “Why? Who were you angry at?”
He heaved a deep breath, but stayed silent.
“At your mom?”
He shrugged. “She knows it’s difficult for me to trust others after all we’ve been through. But she also knew that with both of us working so much, Luisa needed another influence in her life. I let her know my objections, but she thinks it’s the best thing for Luisa.”
Monica sighed. It couldn’t have been easy for him to open up and share all that with her. The bare emotion on his face showed what this confession cost him.
“And I was mad at you.” It was a mumbled confession.
Sure, she’d sensed it the first few times she came over, but they had made strides to get over it. When they were together, especially with their lips locked, the emotion he was feeling toward her was not anger.
“I was mad at you for being the one my mother chose to be Luisa’s role model, something I should’ve done for her. But the more I see you with Luisa, how good you are with her and how well she’s doing, I have to admit Mama was right. She made the right choice.”
Monica smiled. “Thank you.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand, her heart clinched at his honesty. Carlos was definitely not the typical machismo Latin guy. Just when she thought she knew him, he revealed something new. This guy had layers, and she was only beginning to peel them back.
“You’re a good person, Carlos. I appreciate you opening up to me. I value honesty above all else.”
He stared at her a moment. “Did you get more than you bargained for tonight?”
“No.”
“All the stories about my crazy family didn’t scare you away?”
Inner Diva Page 8
