Island Affair Page 12

  He blinked, then glanced down at her. The streetlight reflected in tiny gold circles in the black irises of his eyes. Surprise flashed in their depths as he seemed to come back from wherever he’d gone after his brother’s jab.

  “Shall we go?” she softly asked.

  Uncrossing his arms, Luis motioned for Sara to lead the way.

  “I’ll see you around, Freddie!” Luis called out as he fell into step beside her.

  The sprinkling of soft hair on his forearm tickled hers as their arms brushed. Their hands met, and Sara linked her fingers with his.

  Without a word, they moved toward the mass of people standing along the pier, gazing at the sun, already halfway into its nightly dunk in the ocean. Streams of golden red and deep orange arced across the water’s glossy midnight blue surface.

  Around them people murmured their awe. Cell phones were held high and fancy camera shutters whirred as tourists tried to capture nature’s beauty to take home with them.

  Next to her, Luis remained silent. Once again the broody man of few words. The hunch she’d gotten during their game of Twenty Questions had been confirmed. Beneath his calm, unflappable exterior lay much more than a nice guy who went out of his way for others. Something darker, painful, lay deep within him. Separated him from someone he loved. Because she didn’t doubt he loved his younger brother; his pain made that obvious.

  In that moment, awed by the last fingers of the day’s light clinging to the water, Sara came to a realization. Much like Luis had offered to help her bridge the gap with her family this week, she vowed to somehow help him do the same. He deserved to have that.

  Instinctively her hand squeezed his. In her peripheral vision, she caught Luis looking at her.

  Afraid what he might see, the rising attraction and admiration for him she might reveal, Sara kept her eyes trained on the curved sliver of sun barely noticeable on the horizon.

  Instead, she rested her head against Luis’s strong shoulder. Maybe she couldn’t allow herself to fall for him, but she could damn well do her best to make sure her firefighter in shining armor found a little bit of peace in his part of this beautiful paradise he called home.

  Chapter 9

  Luis wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, running into his bonehead younger brother had done something to Sara.

  And it wasn’t the swooning falling at Enrique’s feet that happened with most women. Even the ones who claimed they loved someone else.

  Ever since Enrique had stormed off in a snit (what else was new) Sara had remained quiet. Introspective. Close by Luis’s side.

  Not that he was complaining. He liked the feel of her smaller hand in his. Maybe a little too much. The tender smile she sent his way made his chest tighten. His breath a little harder to catch. Probably not the wisest reaction to have with someone he was intent on keeping in the friend zone.

  Now the whole Vance clan sat at a long table on the outdoor patio of El Meson de Pepe. Sara had snagged a chair at the end of the table’s left side. The brick wall behind her, she faced the makeshift stage set up across the bricked walkway that led to Mallory Square in one direction and the street in the other. Soon the large walkway in front of the outdoor bar would become a dance floor, inviting patrons at their tables and those passing by who stopped to appreciate the live band.

  While the trio of musicians set up, Sara’s family enjoyed the savory Cuban food that made the restaurant a crowd favorite.

  “Here, taste this.” Jonathan scooped up a bite of ropa vieja, then held out his fork for Carolyn to sample the shredded skirt steak with red and green peppers.

  Carolyn’s eyes closed as she chewed the food, her review of his dish humming from her mouth before she’d even swallowed. “Mmmm, that’s delicious.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try it?” Jonathan lifted his plate, extending it across the table toward Sara, who sat in front of him.

  “No, I’m good, thanks,” she answered.

  “What about my pork roast?” Charles asked from the other end of the table. “How do you say it in Spanish again?”

  “Lechón.”

  “Lechón.”

  Luis and Sara answered in unison, each cutting off the last syllable on a grin. Sara’s faded quickly when her dad repeated his invitation for her to try his meal.

  “That’s okay, Dad; I got enough to eat. Honestly.” She poked her fork at the remains of the two appetizers she had ordered.

  Half of a tostón relleno leaned on its side, the ropa vieja stuffing from inside the fried green plantain mini-bowl spilling onto the cream plate. She’d eaten one and pawned off the other on Luis. A lonely ham croqueta had been sliced in half, then pushed aside after Sara had eaten the others in the appetizer trio.

  Luis hadn’t missed the way her family kept an eye on what Sara ordered, offering to share one meal or another with her when she balked at getting her own entrée. She brushed off their suggestions. Later, when their meals arrived, a few tried sending a small plate of their dish down to her. Which she promptly sent back, along with a pointed shake of her head.

  At first Luis took the banter as a sign of their close connection. Everyone wanting to taste a little of everything. It didn’t take him long to notice the attention was solely directed at Sara, whose polite “no thank yous” slowly bled into irritation.

  “Are you sure you don’t want—”

  “Mother, I said I’m good.” Sara’s steely, back-off tone silenced everyone at the table.

  Robin, who’d been deep in conversation with Edward about the artwork and flora they anticipated viewing during a tour of the Audubon House and Tropical Gardens, broke off mid-sentence. She plunked her fork on her plate’s edge and leaned forward to glare at Sara. “There’s no need to speak to her that way.”

  “Robin, it’s okay.” Ruth held up her hands as if to calm them all down.

  “No, she’s right,” Sara acquiesced. Head bowed, she stared down at her plate. Yet again a muted version of the vibrant woman who teased and charmed Luis when she wasn’t around her family.

  “I realize some of you are looking out for me. And I appreciate that. I do.”

  Jonathan reached across the table to cover one of Sara’s hands with his, stopping her fingers from worrying a hole in the fabric napkin she clutched.

  Luis remained quiet. Assessing the situation for clues to the cause of the strange tension that had cropped up moments after the others had opened their menus. His mind ran through the information Sara had revealed earlier. It didn’t help. He continued drawing a blank as to what everyone seemed to be tiptoeing around here.

  With him feeling like he was missing an oar, there was no way he could steer Sara out of whatever tempestuous waters she and her family navigated. Instead, he felt like he’d been left behind on the shore. With no idea how to defuse the situation.

  “I’m doing okay. I promise.” Sara directed her words at her mom and dad, both of whom wore the pained expression of a worried parent. “This week is about celebrating Mom. So please, can we keep the focus on her and trust that there’s absolutely nothing to worry about with me.”

  “Uno, dos, tres. Testing one, two, three,” the band’s lead singer said into his microphone.

  Cradling his guitar, he nodded at the keyboardist, then turned to the bongo drummer, who gave a thumbs-up.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before the music starts.” Sara slid from her seat and fast-walked to the door leading inside the restaurant. The material of her peach dress clung to her shapely hips, accentuating their exaggerated shake as she hustled away.

  The sound of a chair scraping against the brick floor brought Luis’s attention back to the table. Down at the opposite end, Ruth half stood. Charles’s hand on her shoulder kept her from rising completely.

  “Let her be. Pushing her won’t help,” Charles cautioned.

  Ruth’s thin face crumpled at her husband’s words. She opened her mouth to respond, but the bandleader’s vo
ice drowned her out.

  The older gentleman in olive dress slacks and a cream guayabera shirt welcomed everyone and introduced the opening song, a well-known bachata. The first strains of the slow song brought several couples out of their seats to gravitate toward the band.

  “C’mon, Mom. They’re playing our song.” Jonathan slid his chair away from the table, then moved to cup his mother’s elbow.

  Ruth hesitated. Her troubled gaze bounced between the restaurant’s back entrance where Sara had disappeared and Jonathan.

  “Time for me to wow you with my dance moves like I promised.” Jonathan attempted a box step but wound up tripping over his own foot.

  “Son, I’ve seen them before. Wow’s usually appropriate, but not in the way you’d want to brag about.”

  The others chuckled at her quip and Ruth’s worry eased.

  “Honestly, Mother, you really know how to make a guy feel special.” He winked and led her away.

  Luis mumbled a quick “excuse me” to the others, then beelined to follow Sara. Whatever was going on, he needed to be clued in.

  Inside, he strode through the cigar store, the air pungent with the rich scent of tobacco mixed with those of the spices and meats from the steaming dishes waiters balanced on serving trays held high above their heads. The gift shop was packed with shoppers searching for the perfect memento to take home. Some would venture over to Mi Abuela’s bodega, where they’d find shelves lined with dry and canned ingredients. Perfect for those eager to try their hand at cooking the Cuban and Caribbean dishes that made the restaurant famous.

  Luis wove through the tourists, ignoring the pictures and paintings that told the history of the Cubans who’d left their island and made Key West their home centuries ago. Eventually the crowd thinned as he reached the open path leading to the indoor restaurant space at the front of the building.

  He drew to a halt when he spotted Sara eyeing one of the brightly colored murals and 3-D artworks decorating the walls. One hand pressed to her stomach, she gazed at a scene depicting three men in a Cuban barbershop.

  “Makes me wish I wouldn’t have left my phone back at the table,” she told him when he reached her side. “I’ll have to come back later to snap a picture.”

  “You want to use mine?”

  She shook her head.

  “You feeling okay?” Luis dropped his gaze to her flat belly where her hand still rested.

  Sara turned away and strolled farther along the walkway. The waves of her blond hair swayed along her bare shoulders, teasing him with the urge to brush the tresses away and drop a kiss on her pale skin.

  “You care to tell me what that was about back there?” he asked.

  “God, I love all these colors. They’re so vibrant and rich. Soulful.” She ran her fingertips lightly over the thin wood cutouts of a chicken surrounded by different variations of flowers local to the Keys.

  A flicker of annoyance flared through him at her obvious avoidance. He couldn’t help if he didn’t know what they were dealing with. “Ignoring me isn’t going to work, you know.”

  She sucked her teeth and flicked an exasperated glance his way. The same mature response she’d given her brother when he tried convincing her to share his ropa vieja entrée.

  The door to the women’s restroom opened a few feet away, and two middle-aged women exited. Luis waited until they had passed by before pressing Sara again.

  “We’re supposed to be on the same team here. That’s not going to work if I’m kept in the dark. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Like I told the others. I’m fine. I can handle it on my own.” Sorrow traced across her beautiful face, etching strained grooves between her brows, telegraphing that she was the opposite of “fine.”

  “Hey.” Driven by the compulsion to soothe her, Luis stepped closer, stopping just inside her personal space. “We may be lying to everyone else right now, but things will tank if we start lying to each other. C’mon, talk to me.”

  Unable to resist the temptation to touch her, he gently tucked her hair behind her ear. Allowed his fingers the treat of softly trailing along her jawline. Her eyes drifted closed, her lips trembling with vulnerability. A strange flutter tickled his gut, shimmering lower in his body.

  Had they been somewhere more private, he would have bent to kiss her, offer her comfort in his arms. To hell with pretending he was fine keeping things between them platonic.

  Just as he’d convinced himself to go for it anyway, her eyes opened, mesmerizing him with the mix of determination and pain filling her blue-green gaze.

  “If I share a secret, then you have to do the same,” she challenged.

  “I don’t have any.” Mierda.

  “Bullshit.”

  Luis kept his surprise in check when she repeated the curse that had immediately sprung through his head after his bald lie at her challenge.

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she chanted softly.

  Elbows bent, she set her forearms on his chest and leaned into him. Her right hand patted the KWFD emblem on his T-shirt above his left pec. “Everyone has secrets. Things from the past that shape our present. Even our future, if we let them fester.”

  Coño, an alarm clanged in his ears as he sensed her edging closer to a question he should have known was coming after their run-in with his brother before sunset.

  “What’s going on between you and Enrique?” Sara asked.

  Instantly, the same wall he put up between himself and those who dared to raise the subject of the bad blood with his brother loomed between him and Sara. He stepped back, distancing himself out of habit. Her arms slid from his chest to fall at her sides.

  At least he had the presence of mind not to tell her to piss off, his usual response with everyone except his mother—he knew better than to disrespect the matriarch of their familia. Instead, Luis dodged and deflected. Two tactics in which he excelled out of practice. And necessity. That’s what happened when you were part of a nosy, busybody familia with the best of intentions. Most of them anyway.

  “This is about you, not me,” he told Sara, jamming his hands in his back pockets.

  She crossed her arms, inadvertently pushing her cleavage higher up the edge of her strapless dress. Luis ignored the urge to dip his gaze to appreciate the enticing view. Instead he kept his gaze locked with hers. Refusing to give in on this important issue.

  “About you wanting to get closer with your family this week. Let’s keep mine out of it like we agreed and focus on whatever yours was tossing around like a hot potato out there. I can’t avert disaster if I’m not sure what’s coming at me. You’re setting us up for failure.”

  Sara opened her mouth but snapped it closed without uttering a word. Based on the scowl twisting her lips, he probably wouldn’t have liked what she was thinking anyway. She eyed him for several tense seconds. Her pupils tiny black islands in the middle of turbulent seas.

  The door down by the cigar shop leading to the patio bar and salsa band must have pushed open, because the strains of a classic tune known to bring his mami and papi out onto the dance floor, or the middle of their living room, whispered on the air.

  Luis waited. Determined, implacable. Sara narrowed her eyes. But this was a game of chicken he refused to lose. Not if it compromised his ability to help her.

  Several tense beats later, Sara spun away, frustration evident in her out-flung arms and low groan. “Okaaaay. Here’s all you need to know.”

  After a step, she swiveled to face him, resignation dripping from her words. “I had . . . will probably always have to deal with . . . a health . . . situation. But I’ve got it under control now. They’re all hypersensitive in one way or another. Well, Robin’s more protective of our mother and how stressing about me affects Mom’s health. But like I said already, I am fine. They don’t have anything to worry about. And you, for this one week, certainly don’t either. Okay? Are we good?”

  Uh, no. Not by a freaking long shot.

  His paramedic t
raining instantly kicked in. Typical health assessment questions flipped through his head like the cards in that old Rolodex his papi used to keep on his desk at the fire station.

  What kind of “health situation” did she mean?

  Was she on some type of medication he should be aware of in case of an emergency?

  Could being on vacation, off her regular routine and diet, adversely affect whatever vague situation she was dealing with?

  What should he be doing to better protect this driven, intelligent, temptingly gorgeous woman he was coming to care about more that was probably wise? The one who’d so easily convinced him to step outside his comfort zone?

  Way outside.

  Luis pulled his thoughts up short. That last question was more personal than he tended to get on the job. But he wasn’t on the job here. And this was not a typical situation. There was absolutely nothing typical about Sara.

  Which gave him all the more reason for wanting solid answers. Now.

  One look at her tight-jawed, don’t-push-me expression had the questions melting on the tip of his tongue like the cotton candy he’d bought his nephews at Children’s Day in Bayview Park last October.

  Coño, she’d give his sister a run for her money when it came to hardheadedness.

  But he . . . Well, he was a patient man.

  He intended to get to know her better. Find out exactly what she meant by having it “under control.” Whatever it was. To ultimately convince her that she could trust him to do everything in his power to make sure she truly was “fine.”

  “Well?” she insisted.

  Right hip cocked in a jaunty angle, she tapped the toe of her gold sandal against the brick floor, telegraphing her irritation. Now why wasn’t she this pushy when her sister threw out one of her blunt jabs?

  Another question Luis planned on answering.

  Not that she would appreciate hearing so, but she actually looked kind of cute when she let her anger loose. Blue-green eyes flashing. Lips pursed in a kiss-my-ass pout that had him thinking about kissing several other parts of her sexy body.