Nate opened the door, nearly running into the raised fist of a slim guy with curly black hair and darkly tanned skin. The man, who looked about Nate’s age, sported a short-sleeved white linen shirt over baggy olive pants. Either he’d gotten dressed in a hurry and missed the top three buttons or he wanted to make sure onlookers noticed the metal crucifix dangling from a thin leather strap that hit him square in the center of his chest. Based on the scowl pulling the guy’s dark brows in an angry slant, he was as surprised to find Nate exiting Sofía’s house as Nate was to see this Lothario lookalike about to knock.
“You overshot your destination, buddy. The main guesthouse is over there.” Nate gestured to the three-story Victorian.
“I am aware of that.” The man’s thick Spanish accent highlighted the sneer in his voice. “I am here to see Sofía. Who are you?”
“I’m her—”
“Nate, who’s there?” Sofía’s groggy call had Nate glancing back over his shoulder at her. Unfortunately, the move gave the guy a chance to push his way into the bungalow.
“¿Sofía, porque no haz contestado mis llamadas?”
At least that was good news. Apparently, whoever this guy was, Sofía hadn’t bothered returning his calls. Nate liked the sound of that.
“Franco, what are you doing here?” Sitting up on the edge of her bed, Sofía brushed her hair out of her face, a perplexed frown creasing her forehead.
The guy’s suspicious gaze flicked over Nate, who stepped back inside and closed the door behind him. He wasn’t the interloper here, so he wasn’t going anywhere.
Continuing in Spanish, Franco claimed to have heard about Sal and assumed Sofía would want his comfort. The guy probably thought speaking in her native tongue would shut Nate out. His thought would be wrong.
Nate had enrolled in Spanish his junior year after meeting Sofía that first summer, then continued classes all four years in college. After graduation, he’d whisked Sofía off to Barcelona where they’d spent two glorious weeks eating, drinking, sightseeing, and practicing his Spanish. Among other activities.
He was the Hamilton their business partners in the Caribbean spoke with regularly, not his father.
“I’m fine. Sal’s the one to worry about.” Sofía pushed herself to a stand. Hands on her curvy hips, she quirked one side of her mouth with resignation. The move drew attention to her sexy beauty mark.
As much as Nate relished dreaming about kissing that mole again, the last thing Sofía needed was a second idiot thinking more about what he wanted than what was best for her.
“Mi amor—”
“Franco, I told you that this wasn’t going to work out.” Sofía crossed to the breakfast bar that separated the tiny kitchen area from the living space. “Right after you complained because I wasn’t going to be in town to watch you compete in the Battle of the Chefs due to one of my best friend’s funeral.”
“That was shock and grief talking, no?”
Nate scoffed, quickly turning it into a cough at Franco’s glare.
“You would give us the privacy, okay?”
Franco switched to English, directing his question at Nate, who couldn’t care less what the chef or cook or whatever this guy was wanted. He’d take his cues from Sofía; she was the one who mattered here.
When Nate looked to her for direction, she had already grabbed her tote bag and slung its strap over her shoulder. The keys dangling from one of her fingers made it clear to him that Sofía wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation. Privately or not.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this right now, Franco.” She shook her head, her expression more resigned than angry. Which, Nate knew, was worse. Angry might blow over after she vented, usually in a mix of Spanish and English fondly called Spanglish. Resigned meant the cold shoulder or, if it was really bad, the wall of silence.
Sofía strode toward the door, not waiting for her friend—a description Nate used because he refused to think about her actually dating this yahoo—to respond. “Vivi’s already texted to see if I’m on my way to pick her up so we can keep Sal company this evening. I have to go.”
“And this one, he will stay here?” Franco waved a dismissive hand in Nate’s direction.
Okay, “this one” was starting to get a little pissed.
“Yes, he’s here until Friday,” Sofía answered. “Helping me and the staff.”
Nate tried...granted, not very hard, the guy was a chump...but he couldn’t quite squelch his smug grin at her words. He’d fallen asleep earlier with her not even wanting him to pull kitchen duty. Whatever had changed her mind, he was grateful.
“You do not want to make this mistake, querida.” Adding the beloved endearment did nothing to soften Franco’s egotistical warning. If anything, it made things worse.
Jerking her wrist to swing her keys around her finger, Sofía caught them in her fist. Her hazel eyes flashed with annoyance. “We were professional acquaintances before we started seeing each other, Franco. And a few dates isn’t really... Look, let’s not say anything to damage that professional relationship. I respect you, and I admire your talent. It’s why Bernardino’s recommends your restaurant to our guests. But do not disrespect me by thinking you can tell me what to do in my own home. Or in my place of business.”
Her clipped words and the steel undercurrent left no doubt about her displeasure.
Franco tilted his head in assent, his expression grim. “Perdóname.”
Nate might have felt bad for the guy, if Franco’s apology hadn’t come after he’d acted like a complete ass while making a move on Sofía right in front of him. And if waking up from his nap with her in his arms hadn’t given Nate a sliver of hope.
“If you’d like to walk me to my car, Franco, I’ll fill you in on Sal’s prognosis.” Sofía opened the front door, moving aside for the chef to precede her out.
Nate listened to the other man clomp down the wooden steps without even a good-bye.
“Thank you,” Sofía called from the open doorway. The afternoon sun streamed in behind her, casting a long shadow across the bungalow’s mottled cream tile floor.
“For what?” Nate asked.
“Not rising to his bait.”
Nate lifted a shoulder in a blasé shrug. “Anything for you, Sof.”
And he meant it.
Head quirked to the side, as if considering him or his words, maybe both, she eyed him for a few quiet beats. Nate sat on the loveseat and opened his laptop, like it was no big deal for him to be here, in her home, working on a deal that could change her life, and potentially his, too.
“I should be back in a few hours. If you haven’t eaten, maybe we can grab a late dinner?” she asked.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Her lips curved at his response. She wiggled her fingers in farewell, then closed the door behind her.
In the silence that followed her departure, Nate’s gaze traveled around her bungalow, taking in the personal touches that made this tiny space a home. The photographs peppering surfaces, from her dresser to the end table, from the wall above the loveseat to the fridge, they all captured favorite memories with her beloved familia. The white-framed print over her bed depicted a rushing waterfall and lush vegetation in El Yunque, the Puerto Rican rain forest she’d hiked and swam in as a kid. On the counter to the left of the gas stove sat two cookbooks. One was filled with her Abuela’s handwritten recipes; the other was purchased during their Barcelona trip. It was the only tie to him that he could see. He wanted to change that.
His place in New York was three or four times bigger than the bungalow. It had city views and professional interior design style. It was in a fantastic location with amazing food and drink options within walking distance. But it lacked one important aspect, one important person. Sofía.
For him, this place felt more like home because she was here. There wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be.
For any chance at making this permanent, he had to put everythi
ng into his effort.
Pulling his phone from his shorts pocket, Nate hit the “call back” button for one of his Sarasota contacts.
“Hi Saul, it’s Nate Hamilton. I’m hoping you’ve got some good news for me regarding the geotechnical and hydrology studies. I’m ready to make someone’s dream come true.”
“Yes, Nate’s still here,” Sofía said into her phone as she walked along Front Street toward the heart of downtown Key West. “He’s staying with me until Friday morning.”
“Damn.” Evie’s muttered curse on the other end of the line was pretty much the reaction Sofía had expected when she had informed the girls via text that Nate was in Key West with her.
Of course, Sofía had thought she’d see the word from Evie in their group message thread, not hear it live.
Jenna had responded with all shouty caps.
WHAT?!?!
Ever the cynical one when it came to men, Lauren had chimed in.
Be careful. Don’t let him fool you.
Not surprising since Lauren had rightfully earned that suspicious streak thanks to her recent divorce, but Jenna’s answer to the warning had taken Sofía by surprise.
Yeah, men aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
Worried by the jaded comment from the most nonconfrontational of the bunch, Sofía fired off a return text.
Are you okay, Jen?
All she’d gotten back was a thumbs-up icon. No explanation. Dios, with everything else so freaking topsy-turvy in their lives, Sofía hoped there wasn’t some kind of trouble between sweet Jenna and her easygoing boyfriend.
Evie, on the other hand, had remained suspiciously silent in the thread. Then, moments after the chatter quieted, her name had flashed across Sofía’s cell screen, indicating a call.
“You sure about this?” Evie asked now.
Hearing the concern in her friend’s voice, Sofía pressed the phone to her ear, as if it would bring them closer. She glanced to her right and left, checking for oncoming traffic before crossing at the corner of Duval and Front Street. The downtown area swarmed with tourists, most heading in the same direction, Sunset Pier.
She had arrived home from the hospital about fifteen minutes ago to find a note from Nate on the breakfast bar in her bungalow.
Headed to Mallory Square to catch sunset with a few guests.
Let me know if you’re still up for dinner.
—Nate
“I tell you, girl, the man’s a keeper,” Paul had teased when she’d gone back to the main house to ask how long ago Nate and the group had left.
“Did you hear me?” Evie asked, when Sofía hadn’t answered.
Sidestepping a young couple exiting the Starbucks on the corner, Sofía quickened her pace.
“Yes. I’m thinking,” she said. “I’m...I’m as sure as I can be with so much of my life up in the air right now.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. I know your pride won’t admit this, but make sure you’re not trying to hold onto the past. What you and Nate had back when it was the five of us ready to take on the world. I don’t want you to get hurt again, Sof.”
“Me either.”
She took a right onto narrow Exchange Street. A short block ahead sat the parking lot at Mallory Square, next to the large building that housed El Mesón de Pepe. The Cuban restaurant was always a good choice for dinner. The outdoor seating area allowed patrons to enjoy the live Latin music and dancing on the wide brick-lined sidewalk, with views of the ocean and Sunset Key behind them. Inside seating offered more privacy along with a brightly painted walk-through museum depicting the history of Cuba and Key West.
“I’m going into this wide-eyed, without blinders. Promise.”
“Good,” Evie said. “Nate’s a good guy, Sof. But his family isn’t like yours. Familia, like you talk about, dads like your papi, aren’t the norm for people like Nate and me. We don’t have that. And it really messes with you.”
“I know,” Sofía murmured. Something in Evie’s voice touched a warning signal in the back of Sofía’s mind.
Reaching the parking lot next to El Mesón de Pepe’s building, she slowed her steps. If she went much farther, it’d be difficult to hear her phone conversation.
Ahead of her, a crowd of tourists and locals packed Mallory Square. Jugglers, a bagpipe player in a Scottish kilt, acrobats, live statues with silver painted bodies, and other street performers wowed onlookers. Vendors set up with easy tear-down booths worked at selling their island-themed wares. Behind them all, like a cinematic backdrop, the bright sun blazed in a ball of fire, shooting blood-orange flames that bled across the horizon as it raced to disappear in the ocean.
“Is there something going on with you, Evie?” Dios mío, were any of them in a peaceful place right now? Jenna might or might not be having man trouble. Lauren had confessed to issues at work. Sofía’s resort bid and maybe even her job at Bernardino’s, if Sal and Vivi decided to sell and head back north, were at risk.
“You have your own issues to stress over. I’ll be fine.”
Evie’s brush-off didn’t convince Sofía. If anything, it cranked her concerns up a notch. But she wasn’t the only one in their group with a streak of pride as wide as the Gulf of Mexico. Evie would share when she was ready.
“Bueno, you know I’m here,” Sofía said.
“Always.”
They hung up, each promising to stay in touch. Then, with the sun steadfastly sinking in the sky, Sofía tapped out a text asking Nate where he and the guests were located on the Square.
A few minutes later, she wove her way through a group gathered around a pair of acrobats, one balancing on the shoulders of another who straddled a unicycle. Off to the right, she spotted Nate hanging on the outskirts of the oohing and aahing audience, watching a juggler’s talent with black and red bowling pins.
Casually dressed in loose-fitting, pale blue cotton shorts, a grey fitted tee, and his tan Sperrys, his face beaming with laughter at whatever the juggler joked about, Nate looked relaxed, happy. He turned, as if he sensed her watching him, and his green eyes brightened even more when he saw her.
His reaction to her arrival made her heart actually flutter in her chest. The love for him she had desperately tried to bury over the last two years swelled, consuming her like a flood of molten lava.
Nate reached out to her. Because she couldn’t not take what he offered, Sofía hurried forward to clasp his hand with hers.
He linked their fingers, tugging her closer and bending down to brush a kiss on her cheek. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring the warmth of his lips on her skin.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, the quick squeeze of his hand punctuating his words.
“I’m glad I made it before sunset.”
“Sal still improving?”
She nodded. “They’re talking about releasing him tomorrow.”
The crowd’s cheers over the juggler’s last trick interrupted their conversation. They joined the applause, then moved with the family from the guesthouse to sit on the pier’s cement wall and marvel at nature’s watercolor sky.
Sofía and Nate had watched Key West sunsets in the past—here on Mallory Square, from the balcony of his hotel suite, once from the deck of a private sailboat. But tonight felt different. She felt different.
Almost like...like they were on borrowed time.
For these next few days could she pretend that things between them were good again? She was already allowing herself to rely on him for help with Bernardino’s. She might even risk talking to him about her bid and her options, few though they were.
Maybe she’d even completely let down her guard, be with him in the way she craved.
All while knowing that when he left for his meeting on Friday, they’d return to opposite sides, vying for Paradise Key Resort. He’d be firmly back in the Hamilton camp, with his father as ring leader.
If she did like she’d promised Evie, go in without blinders knowing the outcome, she’d be oka
y.
The sun disappeared while she wrestled with the swirl of her what-if thoughts. With night falling, the crowd started dispersing. Some wandered back to hotel rooms after a day in the sun. Others walked to local restaurants for dinner. Many were off to hit the bars lining Duval Street.
The B&B guests, a husband and wife with their teen daughter who were visiting from upstate New York, asked where they could find some good Cuban food. Together, they all headed back toward El Mesón de Pepe. Outside, on a two-foot high stage that was enclosed on three sides, the restaurant’s regular three-man salsa band had already started a set. An older couple well into their sixties showed off their dance moves on the brick-lined dance area, much to the diners’ pleasure.
Sofía and Nate made sure the family knew how to get back to the guesthouse, then parted ways with them, opting to sit at El Mesón de Pepe’s patio bar rather than wait for a table. They ordered the restaurant’s signature Cuban nachos, made with plantain chips and a mix of ropa vieja and picadillo. Nate practically salivated in anticipation of the Cuban shredded flank steak and ground beef topped with guacamole, onions, and cheese.
While they waited for their food to arrive, he sipped on a whiskey straight and Sofía stirred the mini straw in her rum and Diet Coke. The band finished a fast-paced merengue, then transitioned into a sexy Prince Royce bachata. The young singer with Dominican roots was a regular on Sofía’s playlist, never failing to make her shoulders and hips sway to his sultry beats. Eyes closed, she reveled in the sensory nirvana created by the seductive music, warm ocean breeze, and tasty cuisine fresh from the kitchen. For the first time since the call about Lily, a sense of peace warmed her soul. Thanks in large part to the man beside her.
Nate set his glass on the wood bar, then rose and held his arm out to her, palm up. “Dance with me?”
The sexy arch of his brow, the hopeful glint in his eyes, and the playful quirk of his lips made a devastating combination. No way could she turn him down.
“Think you can keep up with me?” Sofía teased.
Resort to Love Page 10
