Lena was rising to her feet. “Father Greg,” she whispered. “We’re about to start.”
Sadie stood also, her throat squeezing tight. She pressed her lips together against the tremble she felt there. About to start Lito’s funeral. She took Lena’s hand as they walked from the room. She felt Lena freeze the same moment she herself had to slow her steps: at the sight of Lito’s coffin waiting in the foyer. The church doors were propped open and the sunlight was warm and golden on the rich wood of the bare coffin.
She thought she’d cried all the tears she had the night before at the viewing. When she’d finally worked up the courage to see him and touch his hand for the last time. Her heart broke for wanting to see the warm glow of his eyes just once more.
A gentle push from behind got her feet moving again. She put her arm around Lena’s waist and pulled her along. They followed the casket as it was moved to the front. People filled the pews of the small church. Most of the faces were a blur, but Sadie saw Josh sitting alone and looking handsome in a dark suit. He tapped over his heart with his fist and she felt a small smile tremble at the corners of her mouth. She hesitated at the pew, watching as people knelt and crossed themselves before sitting. Should she? Was it only Catholics? She pinched at the waist of Lena’s dress. Lena turned and nodded. She felt stupid and awkward doing it, but when she sat beside Lena, she also felt a strange sort of calm.
The service began. Sam and Carl rose to drape a white cloth over the casket. The priest sprinkled holy water. Sadie couldn’t keep her eyes off the casket. She had never really thought about what Lito had done for her when he overrode Ana’s command that Lena not be friends with her. Where would she be without any of the Acostas?
At least she’d let him know how grateful she was for his intervention and love. At least she had that. She had no unfinished business with Lito.
Words and music and reciting responses flowed over her and she found it comforting. Maybe that was part of the healing. This coming together of those who loved Luis Acosta. To remember him. To honor him. Maybe that’s what would fill those holes. Memories. She had a lot of them.
A gentle nudge from Lena brought her back from her memories. “Get up,” Lena whispered. Something similar to terror flooded through her. She’d almost forgotten. She hesitated, unsure if she was supposed to kneel and cross while exiting the pew. Lena’s firm hand pushing on her butt answered that question. She stood in the aisle feeling her cheeks go hot. Lena took her by the arm and they walked to the back of the church.
She didn’t drop the wafers. So that was good. As the people rose, pew by pew, to take communion, she leaned in to whisper to Lena. “Why aren’t you doing it?”
A shrug rolled through Lena’s upper body. “Not in a state of grace. Haven’t gone to confession.”
“Oh.” Sadie didn’t know what that meant. She searched her small knowledge base of religious terms. She knew about confession and taking communion. She just didn’t know what the two had to do with each other. Her gaze returned to the white-draped coffin.
After the communion was done, after more prayers were chanted, Lito’s sister rose to speak. Sadie half listened as Elena spoke of Luis. Her throat tightened. He’d saved her. Saved her from a life of misery and loneliness. She’d never have had a best friend like Lena. She’d never have had Josh and Molly and the guys. She’d not have her business if it weren’t for Lito’s support and nurturing. She’d not have anything if not for Lito reaching out to her. A sob tore at her throat and she leaned forward, hiding her face in her hands. Lena’s hand came down, soft and warm, on her back.
Her sobs were clearly audible in the small church, but for once, she did not care. She didn’t care that people were looking at her. Thank you, God or Jesus or whoever is in charge up there for letting me have him for a little while.
A warm presence pressed in from her left and a familiar strong arm came down across her shoulders and pulled her close. Josh. She pressed her face against his shoulder.
“Careful there, Saff,” he whispered. “This jacket is a lot less washable than the T-shirt you snotted up.”
She laughed through the tears and wiped at her face and nose with the tissue he offered. A few hiccuping sobs twisted the deep breath she tried to take, but the storm seemed to have passed. She put her head on his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
And she was. Not completely, but she realized that the tears weren’t for losing Lito. They were the tears of gratitude that she’d been allowed to have him in her life, however briefly. This knowledge somehow made it a bit easier to say goodbye.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“JACK, YOU ARE not helping. I know you think you are, but really you aren’t.”
Jack didn’t care. He continued snuffling his nose through the little bags of screws and nuts and bolts. Sadie pushed him back and gathered the bags for their own protection. She stretched her legs out over the pile of parts destined to become a new bookshelf. The project was just complicated enough to keep her mind off Lito. Nothing had been the same since he died. The funeral the day before had been more draining than she expected. She’d taken today off to recuperate. But she needed something normal to do. Leaning back to retrieve the wineglass from the end table, she popped a few jelly beans in her mouth. Fine dining at its finest. She tried to read the instructions. Part A with bolt B to part C with nut D. Sheesh. The pictures didn’t help. She put the wineglass back. This project definitely had a “one glass of wine” limit.
She sighed and climbed to her feet and began sorting the boards. Once done, she rewarded herself with more jelly beans. She stood, tossing the candy down her gullet and trying to cheerlead herself into getting this done. Tonight. The box had been shoved under her bed for three weeks now. The joy her ringing phone brought did not bode well for the completion of the project. She snatched it up. Unknown number. Usually meant business.
“Sadie Martin.”
“Hey, Sadie, it’s Wyatt. I was hoping I could talk to you.”
She sat down, pretending it was to reach the wineglass, not because the sound of his voice, rough man edges smoothed with a honeyed accent, was making her knees wobble a bit. No, not at all. “Talk away.”
“In person?”
“Now?”
“I’m in the parking lot.”
She moved to the window. Sure enough, there he was leaning against the side of his truck, looking like every woman’s dream come true. He wore a dark green polo shirt that clung to his shoulders and chest. His jeans were faded, well-worn and taut across the thighs. As if sensing her gaze, his dark blond head tipped up and he grinned. Oh, dear God, that lopsided grin was going to kill her.
“Come on around to the back door.”
She ended the call. Oh, no. Her hands flew to her hair. It was caught up in a messy bun to keep it out of her face while working on the bookshelf. No makeup. Probably jelly-bean bits caught in her teeth. She cupped her hands in front of her mouth to check her breath. Cinnamon and wine. Could be worse. Jeez. Stop it. He’s an employee, not a date. She ran down the back stairs, realizing meeting an employee while dressed in yoga pants and a tank top was probably not too professional. Neither were her bare feet and bright purple toe nails. Well, he was the one who’d showed up unannounced.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she opened the back door to let him in. His gaze swept over her and came back to hers. Her body responded to the pure male appreciation in his eyes and her heart began a double-time beat. She bent to grab Jack’s collar to keep him from escaping, grateful for the reason to break eye contact.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Is Jules okay?”
He smiled and his shoulders relaxed. The dimples appeared and nothing on Sadie relaxed. “Yes, she’s fine. Can we talk?”
“Sure, come
on up.”
Perhaps it was a mistake, asking him upstairs. But she wasn’t going to go sit in the conference room braless and barefoot.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asked, looking around at the piles of parts strewn around the living room. He stood with his hands stuffed in his back pockets, one booted foot nudging at the wood. He had to stop that, it made his chest look a mile wide and made her remember the bare view she’d seen of it. Her fingers twitched at the memory of the dusting of dark hair across those amazing pecs. And don’t forget that line leading down...
“Interrupted some serious procrastination. Thanks, by the way—I was running out of excuses.”
She waved at the couch and sat nervously at the very end. He sank down on the opposite end, turned to face her.
“How are you doing? With everything?”
She resisted the urge to chug more wine. “Okay. The funeral helped, believe it or not. I guess having a formal ceremony and remembrance sort of turns grief to a new chapter.”
“Good.”
He looked around the room. Rubbed a palm against his jeans. Turned back to her. Petted Jack. Nervous. She leaned forward. “What’s on your mind, Wyatt?”
He ran a hand across his lips and jaw. “This is harder than I thought it’d be.”
“I’m a big fan of putting it all on the table.”
“I bet you are. Okay. I’ve had a job offer. It’s a good one. Pay-wise, benefits for Jules. I can’t pass it up.”
Her heart sank. Sank hard. He was shaping up to be one of her best employees. “Take it. You have to do what’s right for you and Jules. Family is always first.”
“I feel bad. I’ll finish out the week so you can find a partner for Noah.”
“That’ll be great. But only if it’s not going to cause a problem with getting the new job.”
She felt a smile on her numb lips and heard the right words coming out of her mouth even as bitter disappointment struck her. No, she wanted to say. Don’t quit. Not allowed. I’ll miss you. Miss the way his eyes would meet hers during staff meetings whenever one of the guys was being a kid. Miss the way his smile would quirk up on one side at her jokes.
“You’re a good person, you know that?”
His tone was low and earnest. He leaned forward and her body wanted to move toward him. She leaned back instead. “I don’t know about that.”
He picked up the instructions that had come with the bookshelf. “The least I can do after quitting with such short notice is help you put this together. This doesn’t seem to be a one-person job.”
“What about Jules?”
He touched the breast pocket of his shirt where she could see the outline of his phone. “Having her first sleepover. So I may be called away at any minute. I’m not convinced she’s ready to be away from home overnight. She swears she is.”
Say thanks, but no. Tell him you don’t need the help. Trouble was she did need help. She’d never be able to wrangle the pieces together alone. It had five sections. The tallest was almost seven feet and the shortest was five feet. It was perfect for the long wall of nothing in the large open area of the apartment. And it meant she could get the rest of her books out of the boxes in the second bedroom and stop living as though she’d just moved in. Maybe start gathering matching furniture. Like a real grown-up.
“If you have the time.”
He stood and looked around the room. “It’s going there against the wall, I guess?”
“Yep. Any advice? My problem’s been figuring out the logistics.”
He picked up the instructions and studied the picture. “I think we need to clear a spot and lay it out. It shows how it should be laid out here. This way, when it’s done, all we have to do is lift it into place.”
She leaned in to look at the diagram. Mistake. Too close. Twisting her fingers together against the urge to run them through his hair, she took a few deep breaths. That did nothing but fill her with his scent. Her heart double-timed a few beats. “Sounds like a plan.”
What wasn’t in the plan was the way she could barely concentrate after a half hour of crawling around on the floor, watching the flex of his biceps, catching glimpses of his amazingly ripped abdomen as he reached and stretched. If there was a hell this was it: all that male muscle only inches away and not being able to touch. And she wanted to touch. And taste. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin. She wanted him.
“Earth to Sadie.”
“Huh?” She dropped her gaze and pretended to fuss with the parts. He’d caught her staring at his ass. But it was impossible not to. She would have to be dead to not notice that denim-clad perfection.
“We’re ready to start assembling. I’m going to need six B bolts with the D washers.”
She sorted through the bags on the coffee table. She moved to sit by him and hand over the parts while he fastened them and tried not to sigh each time his fingers brushed her palm. After a while, though, the deliberately slow sweep of his fingers triggered the desire to feel those fingers move up her wrist and beyond.
The tiny tastes she’d had of him taunted her. She wanted to have her hands on him. His on her. She wanted to touch him, taste him, to feel him against her. She couldn’t ignore it. “You’re doing all the work,” she said. Trying to distract herself from her growing hunger.
“You’re doing the organization. Teamwork.”
His gaze met hers. The man made her absolutely stupid. He finished the frame of the tallest section and sat back against the wall with the instruction sheet.
“What’s next, boss?” she asked.
He looked at her over the top of the paper, and the screws she was sorting slipped through her fingers. She grabbed at them before they could skitter off the edge of the table.
“There seems to be a rather serious gap in the instructions.”
“There always is.”
“Sometimes you have to go off book and improvise.”
She stopped pairing washers and bolts and looked at him. His back against the wall, legs pulled up, his forearms propped on his knees. He held the instructions. Oh, go off book? What if she plucked the paper from his fingers and tossed it aside? Pulled that shirt up over his head and put her hands on him? Improvise, uh-huh.
“...don’t you think?”
“What?”
Great. You’re brilliant. Dork.
They muddled through it. Where Sadie would have been cursing in frustration, Wyatt calmly went through the remaining parts and pieces and came up with how they were meant to go together. An hour later, they lifted the finished product against the wall.
“Looks good,” Wyatt said.
“It’s perfect.” She did a little happy dance and clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to get my books in it.”
He hooked an arm around her shoulders. “We make a good team.”
She froze for an instant. Her initial response was to jerk away. She did not like people touching her unexpectedly. She’d fought off the first person who thought foster kids were easy pickings at age seven when the brother of a foster mother came to visit. It hadn’t gotten much better from there. Even the hugs and caresses of foster parents had seemed slightly sinister after that. She’d learned young that touch was fraught with peril. She’d gotten better with being touched over the years and had even been able to see that most of her foster mothers had been sincerely trying to reach her, but she had been unable to open up to them. Josh, Lena, Molly and Abuelito had become her family and she relished the warm hugs and touches from them.
But Wyatt’s arm, hot against her nearly bare shoulders wasn’t uncomfortable. Wasn’t unwelcome. It was a temptation she could barely resist.
“Do I make you nervous?”
She slipped away from the warm, strong arm. Nervous? No. Unbelievably turned on? Yes. “No.”
She stopped and forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m not running.”
But she was. Running, not from his touch, but from the feelings he stirred. Warmth. Comfort. Need. She didn’t know if she could control her reaction. She wanted him. Wanted to get lost in the pleasure of a man’s body. No, the pleasure of his body. Be honest. It’s him you want.
“You are.”
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe.
“Is it because of what happened?”
“No.” Yes.
“Then what?”
His hands moved to her shoulders as he turned her to face him. One step. Take one step forward, put your hands on his chest. Do it, Sadie. She couldn’t. Because he didn’t make her nervous, he made her scared. Scared because it wasn’t only her body, her heart wanted him, too. She had to look away from the heat in his eyes.
“Because I want it to happen again,” she whispered.
The momentary tightening of his fingers on her shoulders signaled his response. His body went tense. His hand left her shoulder to skim her jaw. It settled under her chin and with gentle pressure, forced her to look back into his eyes. The heat there made her knees go more than a little wobbly. She gripped his forearms to keep steady.
“What do you want to happen again?”
He uttered the question in a husky whisper. Her gaze dipped briefly from those captivating hazel eyes to his full lips. Heat flowed through her veins. Her breath quickened as her lungs tried to keep up with the pace of her runaway heartbeat. He stepped closer and the hand under her chin slipped around to the back of her head, tangling in her curls. She could feel the heat of him inches away. Less than one tiny step and she’d be in his arms.
Spying on the Boss Page 16
