Read With Your Heart: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  Fortunately, right after I wish Lys a good night and leave her room, I stomp down the steps to find Lena walking into the house.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” I lay into her. She can hold her own, so I don’t worry about frightening her like I would Lys. Lys is fragile while Lena is steel. She straightens, and I notice her outfit. More rips than material to her jeans. Sky-high heeled booties. A tight top that shows off my seventeen-year-old sister’s womanly curves.

  “I was out with new friends.”

  “I didn’t know you had any,” I bark.

  Lena flinches, a fissure to her tough girl façade. “You’re an ass, Leon.”

  “I only meant I didn’t know you’d met other kids.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met people.” Somehow, the clarification stands out to me.

  “What does that mean?” My sister is on the edge here. She thinks the other kids are backwoods and light years behind her, which means she might be barking up another tree, looking for an older crowd.

  “It just means I met some people last week at the football game.” High school sports are a big deal to small towns, and I remember the rare occasion I went to a Friday night game with my friends, even if it was only to get high or score a chick. I was a basketball player, so give me a ball to handle over full contact sports any day.

  “I’m still waiting on clarification, and I want to meet these people before you go out with them again.”

  “Considering you aren’t my dad, I think I’ll pass.”

  “Considering I’m all you have, chica, I think you’ll do as I say.” Jesus, I sound like Papi.

  “You know I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. Then I’m outta here.”

  Yeah, that’s what she keeps telling me, but this is a real fear. I don’t have a right to hold her back. The only defense I have is it isn’t what my parents would want. They’d want her to stay and finish high school. Hell, I want her to succeed. I want her to go to college, get a degree, and have a good life. Not struggle like I have.

  “Lena, how is that gonna work with college? You need to graduate.”

  “I’ll go back to Lane,” she explains, referring to her previous high school as if it’s that easy for her. It’s becoming an old conversation. Next, I’ll ask where she is going to live and how she is going to afford rent, and I’ll get the same smart mouth answers. She’ll find a job. Like working at some burger joint is going to cover all her expenses. I’m working at a garage and it’s hardly covering mine, and now I have two more people to worry about.

  I’m tired of fighting her.

  “You’ll introduce me to your friends,” I state, crossing my arms, shifting from big brother mode to my former position—enforcer.

  “Your gang member act doesn’t scare me, Leon,” she snaps, turning ghetto—which she isn’t—in her speech.

  “And what do you know about gangs, Lena?” My sister might be tough, but she’s in honors classes at her school. Mami warned me Lena’s been creeping toward a rougher crowd, but I’d like to think she’s smarter than to get involved with trouble.

  “Elle tiene una cabeza fuerte sobre sus hombros,” Mami used to say. Lena does have a strong head on her shoulders, which means she’s stubborn.

  “More than you might think,” Lena counters, and instantly, I lose it, seeing red as I respond to her.

  “You don’t know jack shit about gangs, niñita, and you’d do best to never know. They killed your brother. They put me in jail, and that is not where you’re going to end up.” My heart is racing as I point a finger at her, watching her hold herself tall but seeing her shoulders fall.

  “Stop fighting,” Lys cries from the staircase.

  “Go to bed,” Lena commands.

  “Hey,” I snap at Lena. She’s tough on Lys, but it’s only because she’s unhappy. She hates me, and some days, I hate her, but she’s still my sister. They both are, and Lena doesn’t need to be so rough with Lys.

  “Both of you go to bed,” I say, trying to rein myself back in. “And no more going out on school nights.” I glare at Lena who only stares back.

  “Like you really care,” she says and turns for the staircase, double-timing up the treads. She has no idea how much I really do fucking care, but she always has to have the final word.

  I let arguing with Lena serve as a reminder I don’t deserve the warm feeling—a laugh in my chest—I had earlier as I stood outside with Tricia Carter.

  I don’t deserve anything good like that.

  Lesson 10

  There’s a reason for clothing.

  [Tricia]

  “He’s my neighbor,” I say to Jenna as we watch Leon on the court across the parking lot. We’ve both stayed late to work on lesson plans, and we collectively stare at his body rushing back and forth across the outside court. His body is a machine, sleek and powerful, and I remember what I’d witnessed a few nights back when he took himself in his hand. Since learning he’s the man next door, I’ve been more diligent about closing my shades, but sometimes, after it’s already dark, I open them back up just to peek at him. Most nights, his are closed, and there’s nothing to see.

  “You lucky bastard,” Jenna whispers, breathless as if she’s running on that court with him.

  I don’t feel lucky, though. I’ve made no progress with his sister, and he hasn’t come in for the conference I requested. I’ve referred their names to the principal’s office and filled out a form for the social worker.

  “Why does he come here every day?” she wonders aloud. I’ve had the same thought. We have a local men’s league that meets at the high school later at night. I wonder if he’s in it. We also have a women’s league, but it doesn’t start until October. Guys have Tuesday. Women have Wednesday. Friday night is for high school football.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. I’m frustrated by his lack of communication with the school, and I’m curious why I haven’t seen him in the days since discovering we live next door to one another. “But I’m going to find out.” I set down my soda can and head for the door. Like a woman on a mission, I hastily cross the parking lot and walk to the edge of the outdoor courts.

  “Hey,” I snap. He continues his drive, leaps for the rim, and drops the ball through the net. He’s a natural, and he’s beautiful. The concentration on his face when he plays is really striking, but I’m not going to be distracted by his edgy good looks.

  “I need to talk to you,” I demand after he drops from his dunk. He picks up the ball and dribbles as he approaches me. His gray eyes gleam in the dimming daylight. He looks like a predator narrowing in on his prey or an athlete with a plan. He’s going to pivot and escape me again.

  Today, I wear flats, and I have my own plan of attack. As he draws close, I reach forward and swipe the ball from him. Tapping it left, I follow it and rush around him as I dribble and take the shot. It’s only a layup, but when I turn around, I see I’ve stunned him.

  “You play?” he questions, standing with his hands on his hips. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath.

  “All-conference all-star. State champions my junior year. Played club in college.”

  “Damn, woman.”

  I smile despite my determination to speak with him. The look on his face shows he’s impressed, and it’s nice to remember for a moment what I’d once accomplished. But I’m not that girl anymore. I clear my throat.

  “Why haven’t you called me to make an appointment to discuss Amaryllis?”

  “She told me she could read and write, so I let it go.”

  “Mr. Ramirez, it isn’t that simple.” He cranes his neck, looking over both his shoulders.

  “I don’t see my dad, so no need to take that tone with me. It’s Leon, remember?” He steps closer to me.

  “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.” My voice drops, and I inhale. He smells a little like gasoline, fresh outdoors, and all male.

  “How aware?” He tilts his head like he does, a smirk curling his lips. He’s so good-looking,
but I’m not falling for it today.

  “I have a proposition.” I tug the ball from my hip and hold it forward. Moving it back and forth between us, I say, “I suggest a little one-on-one.”

  “You can’t play in those shoes,” he points out before his eyes appraise my body. I’m wearing a wrap dress with my flats, so while uncomfortable, I won’t break an ankle if we play each other.

  “Fine, a game of twenty-one. If I win, you make an appointment with me and the school social worker.”

  “Now, you think my sister is fucked in the head?”

  “I think your sister is lonely in a new school, in a new town, and misses her parents. I’m not going to pry into where they are, but she needs someone to talk to, and she also needs some academic support.”

  “You’re the teacher. You support her,” he snaps.

  “Amaryllis might need more than just me.” I don’t wish to get into the particulars of teaching, co-teaching, and special education on the ball court, but if we have to do this here so he’ll at least hear me out, then this is where we’ll speak.

  “Fine,” he grumbles. “And if I win, you owe me dinner.”

  “Like a date?” I choke.

  “Sure, we can call it that.” One corner of his lips hitches higher than the other side, and his dimple pops. Dang, I like that dimple. “You already owe me for saving your fine ass. Twice.”

  What?

  “You did not save my ass.” I clear my throat. Did he say my ass is fine? He gives me that crooked smirk, and I glare at him. His gray eyes glow silver. I’d continue to argue, but then I recall both the alley and the kiss at the bar.

  Fine, he saved me. But I don’t need saving.

  What if you wanted saving or something similar?

  Dinner. It’s just dinner, only I don’t intend to lose. A man like him is way out of my league anyway, not to mention I don’t do dangerous anymore. Then again, Leon Ramirez doesn’t seem as dangerous as he first appeared now that I’ve encountered him a few times.

  Now that I’ve kissed him, or brushed lips against his, or whatever you want to call that memorable experience.

  My lips tingle like they have been doing for days as if I can recapture the sensation of his mouth on mine. Only it wasn’t his full mouth, and I realize I wish it had been.

  The heat of his body radiates toward me. Is he even closer to me? A trickle of sweat rolls down his neck. He licks his lower lip like he did the other night, and I tremble. It’s been a long time since I’ve been close to a man without feeling threatened. I miss the comfort, as sick as that sounds. Trent was both sides of the coin, and I was just stupid.

  “Deal,” he says, holding out his hand in the small space between us. He holds it level with my small breasts, and if I were to lean forward, I’d swipe against his fingertips. Don’t be ridiculous. When my hand meets his palm, the tremble turns to a full quake. I’m not nervous. I’m on fire.

  Leon lowers his head, his mouth nearing my ear. “Too bad it isn’t a game of one-on-one, though. We could play shirts and skins, and I’d vote you be skin.”

  A shiver ripples up my spine at the thought, but I shift the basketball from my hip to my palm and shove it into his gut.

  “I’ll let you go first since you’re new here,” I tease.

  “I’m still going to request shirts and skins,” he says. And like the sexy beast he is, he tugs off his T-shirt and tosses it to the edge of the court.

  Holy . . . wow.

  Up close and personal, his muscular definition has definition. Every muscle bulges, from his pecs down his abs to that v-dip just above his waistband. A scripted tattoo covers his left pec, but I can’t make out the words. He also has no hair there and I wonder if he shaves like models do. Personally, I like a little hint of treasure trail, and my eyes drop lower before quickly looking away. Is that…? He can’t be as large down there as he appears to be. He takes the ball and dribbles to the free throw line. With his first shot, he easily scores.

  I notice a giant tattoo covering his back, and the raised skin which looks like a nasty scar under the ink. I want to ask about it, but at the same time, I don’t want to be rude. I fight the pull of my eyes to inspect it when he tosses me the ball

  I shoot and miss on my first shot. Dammit.

  This might be a quick game and a lost cause. He’s going to wipe the floor with me. I’ll owe him dinner, and I still won’t be further ahead with his sister.

  “Tell me something,” he says, stepping up to the line. “How’d you end up with a bastard like that Trent guy?”

  I stare after his shot, which he makes, and then take my place. I miss again as my thoughts drift to my future ex-husband.

  “College girl comes home for the summer and fools around with someone from her hometown. He’s a few years younger than me. I’d never really noticed him before, but he saw me as a woman. I’d always been a tomboy, and that kind of threatened the guys from my class. They saw me as one of them instead of a female.”

  “Fucking idiots,” Leon mutters, taking his turn.

  “I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be both. Seen as tough but also feminine. I thought Trent saw that, but it turns out, he didn’t.”

  I don’t wish to go into the details of how feminine I wanted to be.

  “A baby? What the fuck do you want a baby for?”

  My thoughts flip to Levi. We’d hung out this past weekend, playing basketball just like Leon and I are doing now. He never brought up Trent, and I didn’t want to ask. I was worried about Levi, but he wanted to spend time with me to forget his brother, not discuss him.

  “What happened?” Leon asks, tossing me the ball, and I step to the line.

  “He just didn’t see me anymore.” It’s the most I’ll give him, and his eyes bore into me, but the pressure gives me focus, and I score on my next shot. Finally.

  “And you’re divorcing him?” It’s strange the way his voice shifts, asking for clarification of my marital status.

  “Lawyers have presented him with the papers. I’m just waiting on a signature.”

  Leon nods, his lips pursing, and it looks almost like a grin. But why would he smile about my pending divorce?

  “Tell me something,” I say, mimicking him as he steps up to take his turn. “How did you end up in Elk Lake City? It’s obvious you aren’t from here.”

  “Because I’m Latino?” he snaps with a smirky smile on his lips, accusing me of a prejudice I don’t have.

  “Because you just aren’t from here. I’ve lived here my whole life, and no one in my family remembers you.”

  “You been inquiring about me?” he teases. That damn dimple peeks out as my supposed inquiry pleases Leon. He shoots and misses.

  “Just curious.” I shrug. He hands off the ball by walking up to me instead of bounce-passing it. Once the ball is in my hands, he walks around my back.

  He remains close, whispering in my ear, “I was in prison.”

  The statement sounds sinister, but I don’t believe he is. My mouth falls open slowly as my heart picks up speed. Prison. What did he do? Should I be afraid, after all? Did he kill someone? I spin, needing to see his face.

  His eyes lower to the court. “I wanted a place where nobody knew my name, and I could make a fresh start.”

  I still don’t respond. Instead, I place the ball on my hip, taking a moment to process my thoughts as my breath draws short. I have so many questions, but he speaks before I can voice any of them.

  “Grand theft auto.” His eyes lift to mine. “And it’s not the video game. I stole cars, stripped the parts, and sold them off. I got caught. Served three years.”

  I still can’t speak.

  “That make you nervous?” he questions. He holds my gaze. The silvery gleam shifts to hardened steel.

  “Should it?” I whisper, reminding myself stealing a car is not the same as murder.

  “Maybe.” He places his hands on my hips and spins me toward the basket. “But I’ve been out for more than
a year.” Whether it’s his admission or his hands on my body, I shake as I shoot. Surprisingly, I make the shot. I can’t believe I even came close to the basket.

  “How do you have a job?” I blurt although it’s intrusive and insensitive. His hands remain on my hips, and I want to lean into him. I want him to tell me again I have nothing to fear from him. He’s not a criminal, even if he’s been convicted of a felony.

  “I work at Dixon’s. He was willing to give me a chance. It’s boring, but it pays, and it’s honest.” His hands slip away from me, and I almost kick myself for questioning him because I want to know more about him. He continues to speak as he crosses the court in long strides to retrieve the ball. “But money’s tight with my sisters here.”

  “How did they get here?” I figure I’m far enough along in my inquisition that I might as well keep interrogating him until he tells me something is none of my damn business.

  “Lena drove them.” He chuckles as he takes a quick shot.

  “Hey, that doesn’t count.” He needs to be back at the line, like me. Maybe he could come back here and put his hands on my hips again. Maybe he could face me, and I could place my hands on his bare chest. Maybe I could feel his heart as he confesses everything to me. Instead, I snark, “What I mean, smart-ass, is why are they here?”

  He tosses the ball to me and looks off in the distance. I can tell he’s contemplating whether to tell me the truth, and I realize I’m really pushing.

  “My parents have been detained.” He closes his eyes, resting his hands on his hips.

  “What does that mean?” I question, holding off from taking my shot.

  “My parents were hauled in for false documentation.”

  “Your parents aren’t legal?” Again, I gape and stare and feel all kinds of foolish and naïve about these kinds of things.

  Leon shakes his head. “The factory where they worked was raided, and they were sent to a detainment center.”