by Mia Sosa
Karen’s cousin Alex picked her up at the hotel an hour later. He exited his compact Toyota and drew the attention of several woman waiting outside the lobby. She understood the appeal. Alex sported a short, military-style haircut that emphasized his sculpted cheekbones and hazel eyes. And she’d never seen him without his trademark smile, a lopsided affair that revealed annoyingly perfect teeth.
“Karen. Look at you. You’re all grown up, college graduate,” he said as he captured her in a bear hug. He moved to ruffle the hair on top of her head and caught himself. “Not a little girl anymore, huh?”
“Exactly.”
“Just do me a favor while you’re here,” he said as he placed her carry-on suitcase in his trunk. “Take it easy. I don’t want to have to kick some man’s ass for looking at you the wrong way.”
Alex had always been her favorite cousin. Three years older than her, he’d been protective of her since Karen and Gracie’s first trip to the island. But back then he’d been concerned about the bullies.
She fiddled with the seat belt and strapped herself in. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be on my best behavior during this trip.”
He started the engine and waggled his eyebrows. “Best behavior is a relative term, prima.”
“True enough, primo.”
As he maneuvered his way through Old San Juan, Karen peppered him with questions, wanting to catch up on everything she’d missed. “How’s your mom?”
Alex gripped the steering wheel and sighed. “She’s fine. I think she wants to move out. She’s been grumbling about needing her own space, but Abuela Marta can’t understand why she’d take on the costs of her own place when Abuela Marta has two empty bedrooms. And now that the economy’s shot to shit, who’s to say Mom won’t be out of a job soon. Anyway, that’s their issue. I’ve got my own issues with my mom.”
“Like what? Oh, wait. Let me guess. She wants you to settle down.”
“Yes, at the ripe old age of twenty-five I’m apparently letting my good years go to waste.”
This was a recurring theme in her family—Gracie had even battled with their parents about it—so Karen understood Alex’s frustration. “Damn. That’s harsh. But inquiring minds want to know, is there anyone special on the horizon?”
“I’m too young to be thinking about settling down. Besides, I doubt my mother would approve of anyone I chose to bring home.”
“High standards?”
Alex scowled. “Let’s just say she has outdated standards. And that’s all I want to say about that. What about you? Anyone special?”
Karen studied his profile, many more questions on the tip of her tongue. She sensed that he wanted to deflect her attention away from his love life, however. Fair enough. She hadn’t seen Alex in a few years, and although he was family, she didn’t know much about his personal life. He might not be ready to talk to her about it now, but maybe if she opened up to him now, he’d feel comfortable doing the same in the future. “I didn’t date much in college. Being pre-med kept me busy. I can’t imagine starting a relationship in medical school, so it looks like I’ll be unattached for a while.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“No, it’s fine.” Well, it had been fine until she’d met Mark. Now she didn’t know what she wanted. “The thing is, I always assumed I wouldn’t meet the love of my life in college because…”
Alex laughed. “Because college boys are idiots.”
“Many of them, yes. My first-year roommate thought she’d met the love of her life at school. She came to the university like gangbusters, ready to excel in the business school. Kicking ass and taking names and all that. Next thing I knew she was pregnant and dropping out. Oh, and the love of her life disappeared after she told him about the baby. He transferred out of state, which apparently had been the plan all along.”
Alex whistled and shook his head. “Damn, that’s fucked up.”
“Right? Gets me angry every time I think about it. So you can see why I wasn’t too enthusiastic about dating in college. And now with med school bearing down on me, I can’t see that dating anyone would make sense.” She slipped her hands between her thighs and blew out a breath. Shit. This was hard to talk about. “But I have needs, too.”
“We all do,” Alex said.
“Exactly.”
“But you don’t have to date someone to have your needs met, Karen.”
Karen’s rebellious brain produced an image of Mark in her head. She slipped on her sunglasses, needing to shield her eyes from Alex’s curious gaze. Yes, he had a point there.
* * *
Mark stepped out of the car, his gaze settling on Karen within seconds. She stood on the porch of her grandmother’s house and was greeting guests. She’d pinned her hair on top of her head and let a few ringlets fall around her shoulders. The hairstyle gave him an unobstructed view of her neck and lovely collarbones, and the coral sundress she wore emphasized her slim waist and curvy hips. She’d worn a pretty outfit. Nothing more. Nothing less. But his traitorous brain tricked him into thinking she’d chosen the outfit with him in mind.
He managed to draw his gaze away from Karen and surveyed the neighborhood. Rows of concrete houses with red-tile roofs dotted the streets, each one battling the others for the title of house with the most eye-catching color scheme: sky blue and green, canary yellow and white, and a rust color that either had been selected on purpose or represented abnormal wear and tear. Green grass and lush palm trees fronted some of the homes.
Abuela Marta’s house boasted an outdoor staircase that led to a second-floor balcony. The concrete walls of the home had been painted pink and white, and the white picket fence jutted from the right side of the house, wrapped around the porch, and ended at the carport on the house’s left side. If the house had had any curves, it would pass for a giant flamingo.
He would have preferred to walk past Karen, because engaging in as little conversation with her as possible seemed the safe thing to do, but the thought of ignoring her altogether bothered him more than the risk of succumbing to her charms.
“Hello, Karen.”
Her smile faltered as she turned to face him. “Good to see you again, Mark.”
They stared at each other. Would it always be like this between them? This tightness in the air stifling them? The sense that what they really wanted to say or do bubbled under the surface? He hoped not—for both their sakes. “Same here.” He dug his hands in his pockets and gave her an inquiring look.
She straightened and shook her head as if to clear it. “Oh, right. Go ahead inside. Ethan and Gracie are holding court. When you have a minute, I’ll introduce you to my grandmother.” She moved closer and stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “She’s a spitfire. Be careful.”
He smiled and crossed the threshold. Heat smacked him in the face, along with the smell of unfamiliar foods. He sniffed the air. Just past the foyer two tables of food in various chafing and serving dishes made his mouth water. Guests milled about with plates in their hands, alternating between eating the sumptuous food and catching up with friends. Salsa music played in the background.
He found Gracie and Ethan in the living room.
His friend squeezed his shoulder and clasped his hand. “Hey, buddy. Glad you could make it.” Ethan turned to Gracie. “Now we can get married.”
Gracie raised a brow. “Sorry to tell you this, Mark, but we would have gotten married without you. Still, I’m glad you’re here.”
“She’s nothing if not honest, eh?” he said to Ethan.
“And beautiful. And smart.” Ethan dipped his head and nuzzled Gracie’s neck. “And sexy. Let’s not forget sexy.”
“Down, boy,” Mimi shouted from across the room. She pinned him with her stare, and then she mouthed, I’m watching you.
Ethan groaned. “Did you put her up to this?” he asked Gracie.
Gracie laughed. “What kind of question is that? Does anyone ever have to put Mimi up to anything?”
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“No, I suppose not,” Ethan replied.
A group of women laughing in the corner drew his attention. At the center of their circle stood a man around his age. The women hung on his every word—and he appeared to have plenty of words to share.
Mimi brushed against him. “That’s Daniel,” she said with a sneer. “Friend of the family and wannabe Casanova.”
“Be nice, Mimi,” Gracie said.
“I’m not sure I know how,” Mimi replied without a hint of amusement on her face.
Unfortunately for Daniel, he chose that moment to join their small gathering. “Gracie, Ethan. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”
Gracie greeted Daniel enthusiastically. Ethan? Not so much.
Mimi even less so. “Daniel, how can you handle all the adoration? The player in you must be in his element.”
Daniel fingered a lock of Mimi’s blond hair. “Tell me this, Mimi. Is it frustrating when people make assumptions about you because of your looks? Because of the sound of your voice? Because of that slight Southern accent you work so hard to disguise?”
Mimi’s pale skin blushed a furious red, but her blue eyes flashed with anger. “Changing the subject. Definitely a skill well within your wheelhouse, I see.”
Daniel chuckled, seemingly unconcerned with the fire in Mimi’s eyes. “I could say the same about your talent for unnecessary rudeness.”
Gracie’s head snapped back. Ethan widened his eyes in shock And Mark dropped his head and stared at his watch. Well, damn.
Oblivious to the tension between Daniel and Mimi, Karen joined them, a clean plate in her hand. “I’m going to stuff my face. Mark, would you like me to give you a rundown of the dishes?”
No. Not really. He imagined her “rundown.” With his luck, she’d use words like tender, rich, and succulent. Oh, and moist. He couldn’t forget moist. She’d have him panting within seconds. But since he wanted no part of the boxing match between Daniel and Mimi, he nodded and got the hell out of there.
Minutes later, he marveled at the heaping plate of food in his hands. Karen had, in fact, used some of the words he’d imagined she would use—except for succulent. That word only sparked his own imagination apparently.
She inspected his plate and snapped her fingers. “You don’t have rice. No Puerto Rican meal is complete without rice. That’s in the kitchen. You should just go in there and help yourself. My grandmother makes a giant vat of it, in a pot the size of a witch’s cauldron, and no one ever bothers to haul it into the dining room.”
He held the overfull plate in his hand and listened to the sounds of silverware clattering in the kitchen. Laughter and music mixed with the bustle of still more food preparations. “I’ll follow you, if you don’t mind.”
Her deep brown eyes shone, and she cracked a smile. “They won’t bite, you know. My grandmother’s a spitfire, but she’s sweet, too. C’mon. Stay behind me and keep your gaze on the ground. No sudden movements.”
“What are we? Paratroopers?”
She laughed. “I’m just kidding, Mark. Relax.”
Older women moved at a frantic pace in the kitchen—stirring sauces, tasting each other’s concoctions, and handing each other items in assembly-line fashion. One woman, however, leaned against the sink and gestured with her hands as she spoke rapid-fire Spanish. He guessed she was Karen’s grandmother. He also guessed the matriarch of the family gave orders, and the others happily did her bidding. They all looked happy.
In the corner, a middle-aged couple laughed and danced to the music. He took in their features and coloring and made the connection: Gracie and Karen’s parents—they had to be.
Karen’s grandmother pushed her butt off the sink and shuffled toward them. She lifted her chin in his direction. “Quien es el?” she asked Karen.
“Abuela, this is Mark. El mejor amigo de Ethan.” She turned to him to translate. “Ethan’s best friend.”
Understanding dawned on Abuela Marta’s face.
Mark held out a hand. “Mucho gusto,” he said in an attempt to speak her native language.
“Good to meet you, too,” Abuela Marta replied with a wink. To Karen, she said, “Muy guapo, no?”
Karen widened her eyes and laughed. “Sí, Abuelita, él es guapisimo.”
Karen’s father strolled across his room, his outstretched hand and a friendly smile immediately putting Mark at ease. “Good to meet you, Mark. I’m Hector Ramirez, Karen and Gracie’s father. That lovely woman over there is my wife, Lydia.”
Lydia waved from across the room.
Hector turned to his mother and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Now, as for you, please leave the poor man alone. He’s a friend of the family now.”
Abuela Marta removed Hector’s arm and swatted him. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m still your mother. If I need to remove a chancla and take you over my knee, I will.”
Hector sprinted across the room and hid behind his wife. “It’s not just you, Mark,” he said with a smile. “She’s like this with everyone. I’m a grown man and she’s still threatening to beat me with her flip-flops.”
Karen motioned for Mark to join her at the stove. After placing a few spoonfuls of rice on her own plate, she scooped a huge helping onto his. “Now you’re ready. C’mon, we can eat in the living room.”
They found two empty chairs. Karen unfolded her napkin and crossed her legs at the knee.
He took a peek, admiring her smooth legs.
“Have you had Puerto Rican food before?” she asked.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Okay. Start with the pernil.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s roasted pork shoulder. Without it, no Puerto Rican family celebration is complete.”
He bit into the pork and moaned. “Oh, this is fantastic. I love garlic, and this tastes like it’s slathered in it.”
“It is. And it’s marinated overnight. That’s what helps make it so moist.” With her head bowed, she moved the food on her plate around. After a few seconds of silence, she raised her head. “Hey, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow afternoon, after the dress rehearsal, I can take you to the beach. It’s relatively close to Old San Juan. If you want authentic Puerto Rican food, the kiosks by the beach are your best bet. Besides someone’s kitchen, of course.”
He studied his plate and scrambled for a reason not to accept her invitation. “That would be great, but I have to get some work done while I’m here. Tomorrow will be busy for me.” That excuse sounded thin even to his own ears.
“Sure, sure. I understand. Not a big deal. Just thought I’d offer.” Before he could change his mind, she rose. “Excuse me. I see someone I should say hello to. Enjoy the meal.”
She strode across the room and set her plate on a nearby table. Then she fell into the arms of a really good-looking guy whose astonished reaction didn’t last long. Within seconds, he returned her hug and kissed her on the cheek.
And damned if that didn’t annoy Mark. He had no right to feel anything at all. Had sent every conceivable signal to let her know he didn’t want to explore a relationship with her. But right now, his mischievous brain was playing devil’s advocate. Maybe she’d extended the offer precisely because she, too, wanted to be friends. In which case, what real harm could come from accepting her invitation? In fact, hanging out with her on friendly terms might be the perfect antidote to his interest.
Karen lifted her plate from the table and fed the young guy a forkful of food. With a wink, she took her napkin and dabbed his lips. Mark had no control of the legs that moved straight in Karen’s direction.
“Karen.”
She spun toward him, fork still in hand. “Yes?”
“If that invitation still stands, I’d like to accept. I’d love to go to the beach with you tomorrow afternoon.”
Karen regarded him in silence, a puzzled expression on her face.
The good-looking guy held out his hand. “My name’s Alex. I’m Karen’s co
usin. You are?”
Karen broke out of her trance. “Sorry. This is Mark, Ethan’s best friend.”
“Good to meet you, Alex.”
Alex smiled. “Ah. Are you getting your needs met tomorrow, Karen?”
She jabbed Alex in the side with her elbow. “So funny, Alex.”
“I try to be,” Alex said.
“You’re failing,” Karen replied.
Mark watched their exchange like a spectator at a tennis match. The air of familiarity between the cousins now made sense. “So we’ll head out after the wedding rehearsal?” he asked Karen.
“Sure.”
Her smile erased any lingering doubt about his decision. “Great.”
“Great,” she echoed.
Alex cleared his throat. “Well, since you’re both great, I’ll leave you to your greatness.”
Karen stared at Alex’s retreating back. “He’s my cousin, and the big brother I never had,” she told him. “Takes the pain in the ass part of his brotherly duties a little too seriously.”
“No worries. He seems like a good guy. So tomorrow should be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. “So am I.”
He itched to caress her face. Her smooth skin practically begged for it. But friends didn’t caress each other’s cheeks—facial or otherwise—so he held himself back. “Let’s be sure to exchange numbers before I leave, okay?”
“Sure,” she said.
He walked away in search of Ethan.
Tomorrow he and Karen would spend an hour or so at the beach. An outing between friends. After that, their last day in Puerto Rico would be filled with wedding activities, making it unlikely that they’d have much time to spend alone together. So all he had to do was get through tomorrow, and then he’d be home free.
