by Tina Beckett
She smiled. “You have no idea how much better that makes me feel. Well, since we’re sharing confidences, I had toyed with the possibility of having a fling with a handsome Brazilian.”
“A fling?” His brows went up. “You mean like a caso?”
“I don’t know what that word means. Like an affair?”
He nodded. “Except neither of us is—” he tried to think of the word “—linked with someone.”
“No, we’re not. So you’re right. I think maybe I made too much of it. Like I said, I was worried about how you might view what we did.”
“I view it as completely unimportant.”
Something shifted in her eyes, a quick flicker of hurt that made him pause. He’d expected relief, not this...uncertainty. He’d sensed a lack of confidence in her once or twice before. Only this time it wasn’t related to her work. It was related to him. “Is that not the right word?”
Her arms wrapped around her waist. “It’s exactly the right word.”
Except she was no longer looking at him. “Maybe ‘inconsequential’ would have been a better choice?”
Nothing changed in her face. “Those are both good words to describe it.”
An uneasiness gathered in his chest. He wasn’t sure where it came from or why her reaction mattered. It shouldn’t. He was happy with his life the way it was. No entanglements. No commitments. No one to worry about where he might wind up ten years down the road.
Seeing her holding that walker in his living room had sent acid swirling in his gut. It was like a foreshadowing of what his future might hold. Maybe it was even the reason he’d never brought himself to get rid of the thing.
He did not want to be treated like an invalid. Not by Amy. Not by anyone. It had been ridiculous to feel that way with her. And yet he had—had suddenly felt like he had something to prove, despite her words to the contrary. There was no changing it.
He pushed forward toward his original goal in bringing her out here. “So things between us are good?”
“Yes, Roque, they’re good. We should just put it behind us.”
And yet the stiltedness was back in her speech. He’d said something wrong, and he had no idea what it was. But he really did want to try to undo it.
So he said something crazy. So crazy he had no idea where the words had come from. “My mom told me she invited you to her party. She very much would like for you to come. And so would I.”
Dammit. What the hell are you doing?
“I don’t know...”
“It’s nothing formal, so there’d no chance that I could step on your dress this time.”
She smiled. Finally, and her expression transformed in an instant. “I stepped on it a couple of times myself that night, if you remember. I was very glad my tae kwon do instructor wasn’t there to see me.”
Mentioning the invitation was the right thing to do. He wasn’t sure how or why, but it had clicked something in that beautiful face of hers. “I think he would have been pretty proud of the way you took me down at the beach.”
She laughed. “I finally got to see how it works outside of a classroom setting.”
“It was quite effective.” He paused, then went back to his question. “So you’ll come to the house?”
“If you’re sure they don’t mind. I thought maybe your mom was just being polite.”
“Believe me, she wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you there.”
“When is it again?” She got to her feet.
“On the eighteenth.”
“I think it depends on whether the head of the department wants me to work or not. He’s a pretty intimidating guy.”
He got to his feet as well, and it took him a second to realize she was talking about him. He laughed. “Not so intimidating. And no. I’m giving us that night off.”
“Okay, it sounds great. Thank you.”
Things might not be exactly back to where they were before this had happened. But at least they were on cordial footing again. Hopefully he could keep it that way. At least for the rest of her stay.
* * *
Amy picked up a dress off the rack, before putting it back with a sigh. She needed to hurry. Her uncle was finally back from his trip and she was planning on taking a cab to his house as soon as she finished here.
Maybe she should skip shopping and just wear the eyelet sundress she’d worn to the beach again.
No. That dress was going to be permanently retired. She couldn’t look at it without remembering Roque’s long fingers worrying one of the holes and trying to figure out what kind of fabric it was.
Although their work relationship was better now, there were still flashes from that conversation in the garden that came back to bite her.
Her stomach twisted.
Roque viewed their night together as “unimportant.” And it was. He’d been technically right. But still, to hear those words coming from this particular man’s mouth had sent shock crashing through her. Changing the term to inconsequential had just made it worse.
That’s the damn definition of a fling, Amy. Isn’t that what you said you wanted? It was one night. Not six months.
She shuffled through more dresses, getting more and more irritated with herself.
Why did you even agree to go to his parents’ party?
Because of something she’d seen in his face. Something that said it wasn’t as unimportant as he’d said.
And she liked his parents. She really hadn’t had a chance to talk with many people outside of the hospital program. This was a chance to get to know life, as her mom had once known it. At least that was what she told herself. And, in reality, she hadn’t seen Roque as much in the last week or two as she had in the first half of the program while shadowing him. And she missed it. Missed being invited to watch surgeries, being asked about her opinion on cases. She even missed seeing Peter and Lara, who were still in the orthopedics department.
Roque still technically oversaw her, but as the program was set up to do, she had been passed over to the physical therapy side of things. Enzo’s PT sessions were going amazingly well, and periodically Roque had come down to watch. She now found herself watching to see if he would come through that door, which she hated, but it was like her eyes were instilled with a homing device that kept trying to track him down.
At the end of the month, they would all say their goodbyes at the sendoff party, and she would get on a plane and fly back home.
Home?
For the first time in her life Florida didn’t quite feel like home anymore. But her life was there. Her career. Her future doctorate work would be done there. She couldn’t just uproot herself and come live in Brazil. She barely knew anyone except for Roque, Krysta and Flávia and a few other people at the hospital. And most of those would be leaving when the summer program was over.
Amy shook off those thoughts and picked up another casual dress, although Roque said jeans would be fine. Most Brazilians loved their denim and wore it for a lot of different occasions.
Actually, maybe she would wear jeans. She had a pair that were dark and slim-fitting and showed off her figure. She hoped, anyway.
Why?
Maybe she really did have something to prove. To herself, if nothing else. She’d had her fling—she kept using that term, although could one night technically be considered a fling? She had no idea, since she’d never had one before. But there was still something in her that wasn’t satisfied—that wanted more.
But never mind that. She needed to decide on an outfit, and quickly. She was supposed to be at her uncle’s house in an hour. It looked like jeans it was. So giving the salesperson an apologetic smile, she headed out the door, looking for the nearest taxi stand.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DAY OF the party arrived and Amy found she was almost as nervous getting ready for th
is event as she’d been over the cookout at the chácara. So much had happened between then and now. She’d visited a beach with Roque, had had sex with him at his apartment. And had visited an uncle she’d never met.
She and Abel had laughed and cried over memories of her mom, and he’d expressed a lifetime of regret over having turned her away all those years ago when she came to visit. He’d promised he and his wife would come visit her in the States once she got back.
The calendar seemed to suddenly be tripping over itself, the dates cascading past like a waterfall. But she wasn’t going to think about that. Not tonight.
She tugged on her slim-fitting dark-washed jeans, pulling out a pair of heeled boots to go with them. She then dropped a slinky green top over her head, cinching it at the waist with the same silver-linked belt she’d worn for the welcome party. That soiree seemed like a lifetime ago.
Pulling her hair back in a sleek ponytail and brushing on a coat of mascara and some gloss on her lips, she declared herself ready.
Roque had offered to come get her, but she’d opted to take a taxi instead. Maybe for the same reason she’d packed away that eyelet dress.
Forty-five minutes later, she arrived, walking up the driveway to the sound of laughter. She suddenly wondered just how big of a party this was, and the urge to turn around and run after her taxi welled up inside of her before she shoved it away.
She’d told them she would be here, and there would be questions if she didn’t show. Ringing the buzzer at the gate, she leaned down expecting a voice to come over the intercom system. Instead, the door opened and Roque’s mom flew down the walkway, clicking open the gate. She gave Amy a kiss on the cheek, which by now she was accustomed to.
“É bom vê-lo novamente!”
The enthusiasm in the woman’s voice erased any doubts she might have had about coming. “Obrigada pelo convite.”
Roque had been right on that front. Exchanging pleasantries in Portuguese had become a lot easier as the weeks marched by. Her tongue no longer tripped over half of the words. She still spoke to Roque in English, however. Somehow it seemed more important to get the words right when addressing him. She still hadn’t quite figured out why. Only that it mattered in a way she didn’t understand.
If he minded her speaking in English, he didn’t let on. He just kept responding in kind, while tossing in a smattering of Portuguese words when he was unsure of something.
Like “unimportant”?
“Come in, come in. Andre is hoping to be home before dinner. He had an emergency call come in a few minutes ago.”
With all these people here, it looked like it was sink or swim as far as Portuguese went.
But it was only dinner. She could last an hour or two before her mind went numb from trying to find words.
She followed Claudia into the house and found a charming array of blue and white tile and clean textiles. It was completely different from their chácara, but not in a bad way. The space was spotless, and the scents... Her mouth watered.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“You can keep my son from causing trouble.” Claudia said it with a mischievous smile that made her stomach flip.
What kind of trouble?
She didn’t know, but as if summoned the man was suddenly walking toward her in black jeans and a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned arms. Arms that she had seen and felt and...
Ack! No. No thinking about what she had seen of the man. She was pretty sure his mom would not approve of the images racing through her head.
His cane was nowhere to be seen. Wait. No, there it was. By the front door. He evidently was feeling okay.
“You came.” He smiled, taking one of her hands and squeezing it.
A warm buzz of electricity traveled up her arm and burst into pinpoints of heat throughout her body. Yep. It was still there. That awareness that had been there since the very first moment when he’d stepped on her dress. She’d learned so much about him since that time. Had seen a few of his insecurities and had witnessed his incredible, resilient strength.
“I told you I would.”
“I know, but when you said you’d take a taxi I had doubts. I am glad you’re here.”
She didn’t tell him she’d very nearly crawled back in that taxi and left. The sincerity in his voice made her glad she’d stayed. As did the fingers that were still gripping hers.
He wanted her here. Unlike when she’d first applied to come, when he admitted he’d very nearly said no.
So much had changed since their first meeting all those weeks ago.
The pinpricks grew in size, attacking her belly...her chest...
Her heart.
She swallowed.
Oh, don’t, Amy. Don’t. Do not!
It was too late. All the mental lectures in the world were not going to change anything. She was in love with the man.
A giggle came out before she could stop it as a realization struck her. She was a little more like her mom than she thought. But what had taken Cecília Rodrigo Woodell little more than a moment to admit—that she loved someone—had taken Amy nearly three months. And it had been accompanied by a whole lot of denial and fear.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
It was true. Oh, God, it was true. The man who’d said sex with her had been unimportant and inconsequential...
No, he’d said the words but had been unsure if he’d chosen them correctly. She was ascribing meanings to him that weren’t necessarily there. And he’d said he was glad she was here. That had to count for something, right?
Realizing he was still staring at her as if she had two heads, she tried to find a subject that was straightforward—that would conceal the huge shift that had just happened inside of her. “What is your mom cooking?”
“Feijoada.”
“I thought it smelled familiar. My mom used to fix that on special occasions. It was a lot of work, but it was so, so good.”
“Well, my mom has three great loves in this life. My dad, sewing and cooking. Not necessarily in that order.”
She grinned, not so sure why she was suddenly feeling so giddy.
It was supposed to be a fling—a one-night stand. Not true love.
Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was mistaken. It could be the country itself that she was in love with. As in she would love to stay here.
But she couldn’t. Her life was back home.
So where did that leave them? Nowhere. She had no real idea how Roque even felt about her.
Taking her hand, he towed her into the living room. He was at ease in this environment. And as he introduced her to aunts and uncles and three or four cousins, she spotted something on a tall shelving unit in the corner. As Roque continued talking to his relatives, she tugged her hand free, making her way over to the case, where trophies and ribbons and newspaper articles were encased in ornate frames.
She read the name on a couple of the awards and realized these were Roque’s. All of them. From his football days. In one framed photograph, a very young-looking Roque stood with Enzo Dos Santos, who introduced him as Chutegol’s newest player.
She glanced at Roque to find him watching her. He didn’t look quite so carefree anymore as he made his way toward her. And that hitch in his step was a constant reminder of what had changed in his life.
He grimaced. “She treats it like a shrine. Refuses to throw it out. Any of it.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “You don’t seriously want her to, do you? This is part of your life history. Your journey to where you are now.”
“It’s not relevant anymore. I’m not a fan of hanging on to things that are in the past. Or of saying long goodbyes to things I can’t retrieve. I’d rather the cut be swift and final.”
The almost brutal words jogged something inside of he
r. She tried to connect them with something, but couldn’t find where to put them.
Just then Roque’s mom called them to the dinner table.
She sat next to the orthopedist while seven other people gathered around the meal. In front of them were long wooden trays loaded with different types of meat and sausages. Rice and beans were in deep, black cauldron-like bowls. There were orange slices and shredded sautéed greens. And it looked like home. Like her mom. She blinked moisture from her eyes.
“Andre isn’t back, but that’s the life of a polícia. He’ll understand if we start without him.”
Claudia stood and served everyone, rather than passing bowls around the table like they might do in the States. When she got to Amy, she said, “Can I put a little of each on your plate, or is there something you don’t like?”
“I think I will love all of it.”
Including your son.
Soon they were all served and dug into their food. As she suspected, it was luscious and succulent and she was pretty sure she would have to waddle her way out of the house by the time it was all over. Claudia was a wonderful hostess, engaging everyone and making each person feel special.
Including Amy.
She’d half suspected the woman to try to matchmake or make a sideways comment, but she never did. She just smiled and kept everyone’s plates and glasses filled.
Maybe it was the wine, but as she looked around the table, she was suddenly glad she’d gone to see her uncle, hoped someday she could meet her cousins as well and have a little of what Roque’s family seemed to have. They were full of happiness and hope and just plain love of life.
When Claudia tried to fill her glass again, she shook her head. “Thank you, but I am very, very full. It was all so delicious.”
“Mamãe, would you excuse us? I want to give Amy a tour of the house.”
“Of course.” His mom lifted her glass and smiled over the top of it. “I’ll make sure to call you if your father comes home.”
He showed her the grounds and the various rooms of the house, taking her up the stairs, showing her the guest bedrooms before walking into his childhood room. Once she was inside, he closed the door and leaned back against it while she looked around. Only in here there were no trophies or pictures of his various accomplishments in football. Instead, there were clippings of various medical cases he had helped with. Pictures of him graduating from medical school.
