Island Affair Page 4
“And that one reason is?” she asked, hesitant. Hopeful.
Luis covered her hand with his, sandwiching it between his callused palm and muscular forearm. Strangely, the warmth of his skin soothed her rattled nerves.
“While I may not be my familia’s wild child—that role is easily filled by my idiot younger brother—I understand the pressure and guilt that comes with disappointing your parents. Even when it’s someone else’s fault or beyond your control,” he said. “You’re asking for seven days, and it just so happens that’s exactly how much time off I have.”
Elation shot through her like the starting pistol at her last half marathon.
“Are you for real? You’ll do it?” she asked, her heart racing.
He dipped his head in answer. “You need help, and I need some way to fill the empty days off ahead. Sounds like a win-win if you ask me.”
Yes! He said yes!
Euphoria fireworked inside her, brightening the dark sky that had loomed over her family’s vacation. Sara squeezed Luis’s forearm with gratitude, a rush of thank-yous tripping off her tongue.
Mamá Alicia’s voice wormed its way through Sara’s head, a stern warning dampening her glee. Cuidado con lo que pides.
Sí, Mamá Alicia, Sara silently promised, she’d be careful what she wished for. But this was a prayer answered. No way could she be anything but thankful that she’d crossed paths with Luis Navarro.
Granted, convincing her family wasn’t going to be easy. Especially given that she and Luis had so little time to learn everything they possibly could about each other.
It was no small feat. But something about her hunky, serious but sweet lifesaver told her they’d be fine.
“Okay then,” she told Luis, “let’s do this.”
Chapter 3
Luis turned right onto South Roosevelt Boulevard to exit the airport, a little shell-shocked at his current situation.
Beside him, perched nervously on the edge of the black leather passenger seat in his truck, sat an intriguing woman he’d known less than thirty minutes. Yet he’d just agreed to lie to her parents—no, her entire family—about a make-believe relationship. A harebrained idea that could only end in a mess.
Resting his left elbow on the driver’s side windowsill, he massaged his temple in a failed attempt at easing the headache threatening.
¿Qué carajo estás haciendo?
That’s exactly what Carlos would ask. Part of Luis wondered the same thing. What the hell was he doing saying yes to this kind of crazy?
One lesson he’d learned firsthand, lying to your familia, even when you believed you had good reason, never worked out.
Ask his baby brother.
Their relationship hadn’t been the same since Enrique’s lie of omission.
Maybe Sara’s wasn’t as grave.
Yeah, right, that was lame rationalization. Who was Luis to judge what her family would think was grave or not?
Big lie or small one didn’t matter. Years of Catholic school and his mami’s occasional smack upside the head had drummed into him the folly of even the smallest fib. Adding to the promised fires of hell, he hadn’t missed Sara’s quick sign of the cross when she admitted that lying to her mom in the first place is what had gotten her into this mess. If her parents were anything like his, instilling their faith in their kids from the cradle, Sara had to know this charade would blow up sooner or later. With no good to come of it.
Then again, shared faith or not, her mom and dad seemed different from his. Luis couldn’t remember a time his parents had ever made him feel less than or lacking. In any way.
The fact that hers did was pretty messed up. It made her bid for an ally this week even more irresistible.
“Oh, I could get used to this view. It’s so beautiful.”
The awe in Sara’s words mimicked her wide-eyed expression. She leaned forward to peer out the front windshield at Smathers Beach on their left. Luis pressed back against his seat so she could look out his window, too.
A few food trucks and water sports equipment rental vendors lined the road and sidewalk along the public beach. Tall palm trees held watch over the creamy sandy shore and patchwork color of towels, chairs, and blankets. Swimmers dotted the shimmering water. Some splashed out by the sandbar while others floated on tubes and rafts soaking up the sun’s rays. Along the water’s edge, a few couples strolled hand in hand.
“Never gets old,” he answered, shooting an appreciative glance at one of his childhood playgrounds. More often now, it was an inspiring stretch during a run.
“I bet. Have you lived here long?”
“Born and raised. Only left for fire school up in Ocala.”
“So, you’re what they call a Conch, right?”
“Uh-huh, second generation. My abuelos moved here before my papi was born, so he was the first. Mami came as a young girl. They met in seventh grade. Started dating in high school and have been together ever since.”
“How romantic.” Dreamy wonder tinged her voice, a common reaction his parents’ story often elicited.
“They’re the real deal,” Luis said, the words true in many ways when it came to his parents. “Now my older brother, Carlos, and his wife are following their example.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“No high school sweetheart?”
“Uh, no.” His sweetheart had come later, with disastrous results.
Not one to usually bare his soul, Luis drummed his thumbs uncomfortably on the steering wheel.
“Me neither. Still, I can’t imagine how amazing it must have been growing up here. Oh look, someone’s parasailing!” Sara ducked toward the windshield again as she tried to follow the bright yellow parachute floating high in the clear sky, a long line tying it to a boat out on the water.
Luis slowed the vehicle so she could watch a little longer before the road curved onto Bertha Street and they left Smathers behind. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can stop and ask about making a reservation.”
“Maybe another day.” Sara settled into her seat with a sigh, adjusting her safety belt strap across her chest and bare shoulder as she did. “We have a lot to figure out and not much time before everyone arrives.”
She smoothed a hand down the peachy material covering her lap, then shot him a hesitant smile. The way she switched back and forth from Nervous Nellie to friendly ease fascinated him. The nerves seemed to take hold whenever her family came up. Which didn’t bode well for this little charade she’d talked him into playing. If she couldn’t relax, no amount of preparation would matter. They’d blow their cover five seconds into him meeting her parents.
“How about, instead of eating at the diner, we get our food from the Sandy’s counter down the street and eat at the beach?” he asked.
The location change would 100 percent relax him. Maybe it’d do the same for her.
“You don’t mind?”
He glanced at Sara as he slowed the truck at the stoplight on the corner of Bertha and Flagler. “One thing you should know about me, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”
She bent over to dig in the tote at her feet, her blond waves falling to cover her face. When she straightened, she held a pink ballpoint pen and a leather-bound notebook. “That’s good to know. Let me start jotting info down.”
“You’re gonna take notes?”
“Yeah. I’m a visual and tactile learner. It took a while for my tutor and me to figure that out, but if I write something down and then read over it, I’m more apt to remember. It’s the only way I made it through college.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, nonplussed. Like they were discussing studying for some kind of test. Not preparing to try to pull a fast one over her family.
“How about I ask you some basic questions to get us started while you drive?” she suggested.
The pen clicked under her thumb; then she spread the notebook open on her lap. He watched her write his name at the top of
the page in a neat script, following it up with a definitive line underneath.
The sane part of him that had been thinking maybe she’d reevaluate her offer over lunch and together they’d come up with a Plan B shriveled up like the potted plant his mami had saved off his back porch last week. He’d been ready to toss the plant in the trash, but his mom had balked. Something about it needing water, food, and conversation. Silly him, he’d thought he’d bought a fern, not a metaphor for a date.
Forget the fact that in recent years his dating life had the same mortality rate as any fern, ivy—hell, even the aloe—he brought home.
A car honked behind them, alerting Luis that the light had changed. He eased his foot from the brake to the gas pedal and turned left onto Flagler. The farther they got from the airport, the higher his reservations mounted. But he’d made a commitment.
“One small problem,” Sara said, tapping the top of the pen against her chin.
“There’s only one?”
Her give me a break glare had him chuckling. He liked the fact she felt comfortable teasing him, which made their banter more fun.
“Thinks he has a sense of humor,” she mumbled, writing the words in her book.
“Hey now, don’t knock my jokes. They grow on you. You’ll see.”
“Uh-huh, I can only hope.” The playful twist of her lips softened her dry tone.
He grinned, something he found himself doing often around her. Despite their bizarre situation, Luis realized he’d laughed more with her in their short time together than with anyone else in ages.
Edging his truck around an older couple pedaling a tandem bike, he snuck another glance at Sara.
Her plump lower lip caught between her teeth, she scribbled in her notebook. Sweetly studious. The type of study partner that had a guy imagining all kinds of non-scholastic shenanigans in the library.
Yeah, there were quite a few things about Sara Vance he found appealing. And he wanted to know more.
“Any chance your middle name is Ric, or some derivative?”
“Excuse me?” Luis did a double take at her question. “Why?”
One of her slender shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “Thankfully, I’ve learned to share very little about my dating life with my parents, so they don’t know much about Ric. Except his name”—she counted the list on her fingers—“that he’s in community development, and we met in Miami.”
Luis digested the info, thinking of ways they might tweak it to suit his life. “The closer to the truth we can keep this, the better. Less chance we’ll slip.”
“Ooh, smart. We definitely don’t want any slipping.” She pointed the pen at him, nervous energy humming off her again.
“That’s something else you should write down about me. I’m smart.”
Her eyes narrowed, but her pink glossy lips twitched before stretching into a smile that chased away her reservations. Good. Nervous meant mistakes. Something every rookie had to learn on the job.
“Time to hit pause on your note taking. But you’ve already got some stellar-boyfriend-material facts about me.” He flipped his blinker, signaling his intent to wait for a car pulling out of a space on White Street. Ahead on the left, Sandy’s red and white awning welcomed customers.
“You know, for someone all serious and stern, it’s interesting how much of a comedian you think you are.”
“Serious and stern?” Was that how she saw him?
Damn, that made him sound more like his papi when he or his brothers or sister crossed the line. Those were not the words a guy wanted an attractive woman who snagged his interest to use when describing him. Talk about ego deflating.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, relieved he kept the hell out of his question.
“Oh please.” Fingers splayed, Sara swished her open palm through the air from his head down to the seat as if encompassing all of him. “Don’t try and tell me you have no idea about this whole Vin Diesel tough-guy vibe you’ve got going on.”
Luis’s foot nearly slipped off the brake at his surprise. “My what?”
“Hunky, muscular man of few words showing up to save the day? Classic action film superhero.”
Vin Diesel?
Him?
Okay, now she was talking.
While the other car took its time pulling out of the parking spot, Luis considered Sara’s description. “So, you think I’m hunky, huh?” He waggled his brows playfully.
She laugh-snorted and rolled her eyes. “Like you didn’t already know you are.”
“Yeah, well, if you ask me, this Ric guy is an idiot for giving up a week with you,” he said, enjoying the pink blush that rose up her cheeks as she murmured a thank-you.
Years of driving the fire truck had Luis deftly parallel parking his vehicle. Turning toward her, he draped his left arm over the steering wheel. “If we’re about to start a study session, we need sustenance. You good if I hop out and order us a couple Cuban mix sandwiches? Or do you prefer to order for yourself?”
“A Cuban mix sounds delicious. With a water, please? Here”— she bent down to dip her hand into her purse again—“let me give you some cash.”
“I got it. It’s your first meal on my turf. My treat,” he added when she tucked her chin as if she were about to argue.
She hesitated a beat before dropping her wallet back into her tote. “Fine. This time. But we’re gonna discuss logistics moving forward. As soon as you come back with our food. I’m too hungry to argue.”
“Whatever you say.” Though he wouldn’t be comfortable having her pay for him, especially in front of her family.
Blame it on a streak of machismo he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to completely erase. His sister complained about double standards in their culture and within the firefighting community all the time. On the job, he worked hard to be fair, understanding the importance of treating every firefighter with the same respect and value. They all pulled their weight. Off duty, if a date wanted to split the bill, he didn’t mind. But outright taking care of the bill, without it being a special occasion? It went against the manners ingrained by his parents.
Leaving his truck running, Luis jogged diagonally across the street to Sandy’s. As always, the popular counter location attached to a coin-operated laundromat was packed with people eating, ordering, or waiting.
“¿Oye, Luis, cómo estás, ’mano?”
Luis clasped hands and leaned in for a one-armed hug with an old high school buddy standing on the crowded sidewalk. “Hey, Franco, long time no see, brother. I’m doing good. What’s new?”
“You know how it is, working hard when I’d rather be hardly working. Así es la vida en Cayo Hueso,” Franco joked.
He had it right. That was life for many locals in Key West, trying to stay on the island as the cost of living rose. If you asked Luis, the juggle was worth it.
They swapped stories about work and familia, pausing when it came time for Luis to place his order.
“Eating for two?” Franco teased. “What, you lifting heavy weights or something?”
“Picking up food for me and a . . . a friend in town for the week.” Luis eyed his truck, the cab visible over the little sports car parked in front. Sara’s head was bent, probably over her notebook, her blond waves bright against the black seat leather.
“Anyone I know?”
Luis turned to find that Franco had followed his gaze and noticed Sara waiting for him. His mind froze for a blip at the potential glitch he hadn’t considered.
Crap. No way they could avoid running into people who would inevitably ask about Sara if they were together.
People who knew him as Luis, not Ric. A definite problem if they bumped into another Conch while with her family. Many of the locals knew each other, and gossip flew around their tiny island faster than a speedboat racing. No doubt he’d be seen with Sara’s family at some point over the next week. If someone got wind of his “relationship” with her, his family would find out in minutes.
Not after the raking over the beach bonfire coals he’d given his brother Enrique for lying to him.
Time to improvise and start playing Sara’s game before he wound up having to deal with damage control.
“You don’t know her,” Luis said, stepping up to the counter to grab a handful of napkins. “She’s not from here. We met while I was in Miami a while ago.”
As he expected, Franco followed, his back now to the street, and Sara. “She’s vacationing here with her family, and I volunteered to play tour guide while I’m off.”
“There you go, always doing something nice for somebody. San Navarro at it again.”
The old man behind the counter shouted Franco’s name and shook a brown paper bag in their direction. Franco smacked Luis’s shoulder in a good-bye, then headed off with his food.
Usually Luis would have snapped a comeback at the stupid nickname he’d picked up in high school. One good deed at a church retreat his mom had made him and his older brother attend, one nun who sang his praises as an example for the rest of the teens, and a guy couldn’t outrun an annoying moniker like Saint Navarro.
Today he didn’t want to. Let Franco think he was doing a friend a favor. Racking up good guy points. Anything to keep the local chatter quiet. It was pretty much the truth anyway.
Sure, Sara needed his help in a bizarre sort of way, but it kept him occupied rather than spinning his wheels at home.
Moments later, Luis climbed back into his cab. The scent of roast pork, ham, and Swiss cheese tucked inside freshly baked Cuban bread, hot from the grill press, wafted from the brown paper bag he carried.
“Smells scrumptious!” Sara took the bag from his outstretched hand so he could set two bottles of water in the center console cupholders.
“Tasting one of these was on my Key West bucket list,” she added, her entire face alight with a pleasure that teased an answering delight from him. “I’ll snap a photo when we get settled at a picnic table. Then swing by later to take one of Sandy’s awning so I can whip up a graphic with both.”