by Cindy Kirk
“I’ve also noticed you’ve been in a much better mood since he became your ‘friend.’”
Was that really a teasing gleam in her colleague’s eyes? Couldn’t be. Ben wasn’t the teasing type. He was serious. Too serious. Too cerebral.
“Keenan knows how to enjoy life.” She thought of the rock climbing he’d urged her to try. “He’s very physical.”
When Ben’s grin widened, she gave his arm a punch. “I meant Keenan likes physical activities—”
Though Mitzi didn’t believe it was possible, Ben’s grin inched even wider.
“Kayaking, windsurfing, horseback riding.” She ticked them off her fingers one by one.
“I’m just saying the guy has been good for you,” Ben said equitably.
Mitzi shifted, uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation. Ben wasn’t the first to assume she and Keenan were a couple. Considering they spent so much time together, she supposed it was understandable.
Heck, they’d even gone to church together the past two Sundays. And she couldn’t immediately recall the last time she’d slept alone. Still, she’d made sure to mention numerous times what his friendship meant to her. Each time, he’d smile and call her “buddy.”
She had to admit she kind of liked the way the word sounded on his tongue.
“It’s important to have friends you feel comfortable with, whose company you enjoy.” Ben met her gaze. “You and I, we were never really friends.”
Mitzi pushed back from the office chair and stood. She and Ben had never discussed what had gone wrong between them. The way she recalled it, they’d simply argued one too many times and neither cared enough to try to repair the damage of the angry words.
Though they shared a love of practicing medicine, they’d taken vastly different routes to arrive at where they were now. Ben could no more understand what drove her than she could understand what drove him.
“Even from the beginning there was this ease, this comfort, with Poppy.” Ben’s eyes darkened with emotion. “It was never easy between us.”
“You always were master of the understatement, Benedict.” Mitzi stifled a snort. “It was like riding a roller coaster. A few wild peaks. A whole lot of valleys.”
“Poppy and I enjoy quiet evenings together.” Ben rubbed his chin. “You had to always go out.”
Mitzi started to deny it then realized he spoke the truth. The thought of spending an evening alone with Ben watching a movie and sharing a bowl of popcorn had never held any appeal.
The fact that he’d been willing to escort her to all the social events in Jackson Hole—and she’d discovered since moving here there was always something to do—had probably prolonged their relationship long after it should have come to an end.
“I’ve actually discovered I can stay home and enjoy watching movies.” Mitzi thought of the scary horror flick she and Keenan had seen the other night. She’d even had to close her eyes at one point. Keenan had laughed. But when he’d wrapped his arms around her, she hadn’t been scared anymore. “In moderate doses, even cards and charades can be fun.”
“Charades?”
Mitzi smiled at the shock Ben infused in that single word.
“I’m glad we didn’t attempt to hang on to something that wasn’t working,” Ben said. “I think we’ve both found something far better.”
“Are you seeing your friend tonight?” Bill asked Keenan, before turning to load some tools into the back of his pickup.
Keenan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “As a matter of fact I’m going to a quinceañera with Mitzi this evening.”
Bill rested his back against his red pickup that gleamed in the sunlight and tilted his head. “A what?”
“I asked the same thing,” Keenan admitted. “It’s a party thrown when a girl turns fifteen.”
Bill lifted a brow. “Like a birthday party?”
“I guess.” Keenan shrugged. “But a bigger deal.”
“Who’s it for? Anyone I know?”
“Mitzi’s office billing manager, Consuela Herrera. The party is for her daughter.”
“You’re moving up in the world, boy.” Bill slapped Keenan on the back. “From the slammer to escorting one of the most eligible doctors in Jackson Hole to fancy parties in the span of a few short months.”
Teasing or not, Bill’s words served as a reminder just how far apart his and Mitzi’s lives were and reinforced the importance of not getting too comfortable. Even if it sometimes felt like a whole lot more, he and Mitzi were simply friends. She reminded him of that fact constantly. Only a fool wouldn’t take the warning to heart.
“Mitzi and I are just friends,” he told Bill for what felt like the thousandth time.
“Look at these lines.” Bill pointed to his drooping face. “Proof I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve seen the way you look at her. And how she looks at you.”
Keenan opened his mouth but Bill cut him off with a swipe of hand through the air.
“If I learned anything during my almost sixty years on this planet, it’s that love don’t come ’round all that often. When it does, you have to grab hold of it and not let go.” Bill paused, gazed speculatively at Keenan. “You didn’t survive those years in the Big House by being lily-livered. Be bold. Be brave. You know what you need to do.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mitzi had told Keenan he needed to dress up for the quinceañera but wasn’t sure what he’d show up wearing until he knocked and she opened the door.
Her heart stumbled. “Wow. You look terrific.”
“Back at you.” Keenan gazed admiringly at the simple navy dress she’d paired with a strand of pearls. She’d pulled her hair up and caught it in a glittery broach. “Too bad your hair isn’t blue yet. Would have gone well with the dress.”
“I thought that, too.” Mitzi gave a little laugh before she ushered him inside, her fingers lingering on the fine fabric of his charcoal-gray suit. “This is nice.”
“It’s Ryan’s,” Keenan confessed. “When I told Bets I was going to this thing and needed to dress up, she gave me one of his to wear. He tossed in a shirt, tie and even the shoes.”
“That was nice of him.” Though Mitzi had never been physically attracted to Ryan, she considered him a friend. It was a shame she and Betsy had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe it was time to reach out to Keenan’s sister.
“We better get going.” She picked up the clutch on top of the sofa next to where the kitten now slept. She gave the soft top of Bitty’s head a scratch. “Later, little one.”
“She’s content,” Keenan observed.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Mitzi chuckled. Though she’d initially worried about taking on a pet because of the responsibility, Bitty had ended up being a nice addition to her household. “I give her everything she wants. That kitten has me wrapped around her little paw.”
“You’re a good person, Mitzi,” Keenan said, surprising her. “Warm. Loving. Kind.”
Heat stole up her neck and pleasure flowed like warm honey through her veins. She couldn’t recall ever getting such a nice compliment. “One of my old boyfriends called me ‘The Ice Queen.’”
“He must not have known you at all.” Keenan opened the door for her and she inhaled the familiar soap and woodsy smell she’d come to associate with him.
“We can take my car tonight.” Mitzi tossed him the keys.
“Second time in a week.” He snagged the ring of keys midair. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s muggy this evening.”
“Just because Bertha’s AC is on the fritz...” Keenan gave the Impala’s fender a tap as he walked past. “She can’t help it. She’s old and ugly. Now, this baby...”
Keenan’s gaze landed on Mitzi’s BMW and he smiled. “Beautiful.”
“More beautiful than me?” Mitzi couldn’t believe she’d allowed the question to slip past her lips. Dr. Mitzi Sanchez didn’t beg for compliments.
She braced herself for th
e slap down, a pithy one-liner that would make her feel even more foolish. Kelvin had been king of pithy one-liners. Especially if he sensed weakness.
Instead Keenan’s eyes softened. She couldn’t begin to describe the look that filled them, but it made her feel warm and gooey inside.
“There’s nothing and certainly no one more beautiful than you.” He brought her hand to his lips. With his eyes still firmly focused on her, Keenan brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Tonight you look especially delectable.”
Just like that, Mitzi’s confidence was back and she was ready to face the evening. She and Keenan chatted easily during the drive to the social hall.
After spending most of her working hours around people who were superintense, it was refreshing to simply enjoy the evening with a man who found humor in the most unlikely things and who didn’t take himself or anyone else too seriously.
A good friend.
She thought about telling him—it never hurt to reinforce what they were to each other—but the conversation veered toward her house and when it would be completed.
“Another two weeks and you should be able to move the rest of your stuff in.”
“We’ll have to have a big party to celebrate.” Mitzi stifled a groan as what she’d said registered. We. Had she really said we?
Keenan didn’t appear to notice. “You definitely should show it off. Just make sure Bitty is locked in a bedroom. Having all those people around will freak her out.”
“She’s fine around you.”
“She’s used to me,” he reminded her. “Sees me all day and most nights.”
“True enough.” Perhaps the knowledge should have disturbed her but it didn’t.
“Tell me more about this shindig.” He turned in the direction of the community hall in downtown Jackson.
“It’s a big deal. Angela—Consuela’s daughter—will be wearing a formal gown and the boys will be wearing tuxedos.”
Keenan shifted in his seat when they stopped for a red light. “Seriously?”
“Like I said, it’s a big deal.”
He cast a questioning glance in her direction. “Did you have one of these things?”
“There was no money,” Mitzi said simply. The year she turned fifteen, her eighteen-year-old sister had been pregnant with baby number two.
Keenan nodded and she saw he understood. It didn’t surprise her. Sometimes she swore he could not only read her mind but see deep into her soul.
“Were we supposed to bring a gift?” he asked.
Mitzi wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or not to hear Keenan use the plural. She tapped the clutch on her lap with her index finger. “In here.”
“Must be small.” Keenan looked mildly curious. “What is it?”
“A necklace. A silver cross with a blue topaz in the center.”
“Sounds nice.”
“When I was telling Consuela about my upcoming hair color change, she told me Angela’s favorite color is blue.” Mitzi lifted one shoulder. “I probably went a bit overboard. Blue topaz is my favorite stone and the art deco scrollwork on the cross caught my eye.”
Mitzi realized she was babbling again, though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a crime to buy someone a nice gift, the kind of gift she’d have killed to have gotten if there’d been money for her quinceañera.
Keenan pulled the car into the gravel parking lot next to the large frame building, making sure to avoid a couple of ruts the size of moon craters. “Is jewelry the gift of choice?”
“That or a Bible, prayer book or rosary.” Mitzi’s lips curved. “When I was that age I wanted anything with a blue stone. I’d also have accepted a tiara.”
He shot her a teasing look, gave an exaggerated sigh. “A princess even back then.”
Mitzi fingers curved around his hand as she stepped from the car. “A princess with no prince, no crown and no money.”
He flashed a grin. “You don’t want much.”
She met his gaze. “I want it all.”
“You deserve it all.”
For some reason, instead of making her smile, her heart swelled with emotion. She’d never had anyone accept her so fully. Not even her own mother. She shifted her gaze and rapidly blinked away tears.
He held her arm as they negotiated the gravel lot. When they drew close to the entrance, Mitzi tugged him to a stop. “We need to talk about something.”
“Okay.” Looking suddenly ill at ease, Keenan slid his hands into his pockets. “Talk.”
“The people who will be attending this event likely are most comfortable speaking Spanish. I know some think if they’re in the United States they should speak English but—”
He touched her lips with the pad of one finger. “As far as I’m concerned, this is their party. They can speak Portuguese if they want. And, as long as there’s cake, I’m happy.”
“Trust me. There’ll be cake.” Still, she was glad she’d warned him because they were greeted in Spanish at the door.
Mitzi responded easily in her native tongue. Until she’d gone to kindergarten, Spanish was all she’d known. There had been a time as a young teen that she’d been embarrassed by her Mexican heritage. Now she was grateful. Being bilingual came in handy for patients with limited English.
Hector and Consuela spoke rapidly, expressing pleasure at her presence at their daughter’s special day. Conscious of Keenan standing patiently at her side, Mitzi began the introductions.
Keenan extended his hand to Mr. Herrera and introduced himself in Spanish.
One more surprise from a man who seemed to constantly surprise her.
Consuela shot Mitzi an approving glance. “He will be your husband. He is why you needed a bigger home.”
Mitzi saw the amusement in Keenan’s eyes. She patted his arm. “He’s my good friend.”
“He will make a handsome husband.” Consuela spoke as if they were alone, as if Keenan wasn’t standing right there beside them with those laughing eyes understanding every word.
As soon as she could slip away, Mitzi tugged Keenan through a pink-and-white balloon arch into a hall sporting congratulatory banners and even more colored balloons.
“Looks like we got here just in time.” Mitzi looped her arm through Keenan and pointed.
His gaze fixed on the group of young teenagers, currently positioning themselves in the center of the hardwood.
“The dance they’ll perform is considered part of the celebration,” Mitzi informed him. “It’s usually well practiced and quite impressive.”
“Can’t be as impressive as that cake.” Keenan let out a low whistle, gesturing with his head to a long table with a mound of presents at one end and a multitiered cake at the other.
“Angela’s gift.” Mitzi snapped open her purse, pulled out the box with shiny silver-and-white paper. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving him where he stood, Mitzi hurried to the table and placed the gift where it wouldn’t be lost or knocked aside. She returned to Keenan’s side.
“I never asked the purpose of all this,” he said as the choreographed dance of Angela and her “court” began.
“The quinceañera marks a girl’s transition from childhood to maturity.” Mitzi’s heart swelled at the youthful innocence on the faces of the girls. “It celebrates the virtues of family, religion and social responsibilities.”
The dance ended to bows and cheers, and Mitzi and Keenan joined in the applause.
They stayed at the party until after the toast and the presentation of the gifts. Before they left, Mitzi signed the guest book then took a moment to extend her congratulations and best wishes to Angela and her parents.
As they were walking out the door, Mitzi realized Keenan hadn’t once pressed to leave. He’d laughed and talked with Consuela’s family and friends. Over the course of the evening, he’d impressed them. And her.
Once they reached the car, Mitzi wound her arms around his neck. She pressed her mouth to his. “Thanks. I owe you
.”
Puzzlement filled his eyes. “For what?”
“For being a good sport.”
He didn’t say anything until they were in the car and heading down the road. “I’m not sure why you think you owe me. I enjoyed the evening.”
Mitzi raised a skeptical brow.
“I enjoyed dancing with you.” A rarely seen dimple in his right cheek flashed. “And the cake was excellent.”
“Ah, yes, can’t forget the cake.”
“Most of all—” he reached over and took her hand “—I loved spending the evening with you.”
When Keenan arrived on his sister’s back doorstep the next day to drop off the clothes, he found Nate playing trucks on the kitchen floor, Ryan at the stove and Betsy nowhere to be seen.
Betsy, Ryan informed him, was out having lunch and shopping with friends. He was in charge of providing a nutritious meal for their son.
Though Keenan had doubts about Ryan’s cooking abilities, he accepted his friend’s invitation to stay for a “nutritious” lunch.
The orange slices Ryan tossed on each of their plates were hard to screw up, but the grilled cheese sandwich had gone beyond well-done to burnt. Keenan decided to start the meal with a good stiff shot of no-name cola.
Ryan lifted a glass of milk to his lips. He’d told Keenan he was drinking the white stuff because he wanted to set a good example for Nate. “How was the birthday party?”
“It wasn’t a birthday party. It was a quinceañera.” Keenan took another sip of the cola. “For the daughter of one of Mitzi’s office employees.”
“I wish Bets and I could afford to have someone come in and clean.” Ryan glanced into the living room strewn with toys and blocks. “You’re lucky.”
“What are you talking about?” Keenan took a bit of sandwich, trying to ignore the blackened bread. “The boardinghouse doesn’t employ a cleaning service.”
Ryan took a bite of his sandwich, frowned. He flipped it over, sighed, and then began to scrape off the charred parts with a butter knife. He stopped for a second to glance at his son, who was eating the sandwich he’d cut up for him without complaint.
