A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(55)

Cruz chuckled softly. “Yes, he can. Want to come in?”

“Oh no,” Grandpa said, “I’ll just leave Auri here while you work, if that’s okay?” He glanced at her. “You can call when you’re ready for your mani-pedi?”

Auri suddenly realized they didn’t actually make plans. She didn’t actually get permission to crash Cruz’s life. “If you’re busy, we can—”

“I’m not busy,” he rushed to say. “We have to do it. May as well get it done.”

At first, Auri soared with his willingness to spend time with her, but with his next words, she wondered if he wanted to get the project finished to be over with her. “Okay, well great.” She turned back to her grandpa. “I’ll call you?”

“My dad could take her home if you don’t want to get out again. It’s up to you.”

“Only if it’s not a bother.”

“I’ll call either way,” Auri said.

He gave her another quick hug and headed to his crossover while Cruz ushered her inside.

The house was cozy and warm with a lit fireplace and throws on the sofa and love seat.

“This is nice,” she said.

He offered her a playful smirk. “No, it’s not. But it works.”

A man walked in then, carrying a plate of food and a beer. Tall like Cruz and almost as handsome.

“Hi,” she said softly, holding out her hand even though his were full. “I’m Auri.”

He put the beer down, took her hand and smiled, then turned to Cruz.

Cruz signed what she said, finger-spelling her name. She recognized that much. And humiliation washed over her. Cruz was fluent in ASL, and the lamp flickered when they rang the doorbell. It didn’t take a genius to figure out someone in his family was probably deaf.

When she realized her cheeks had warmed substantially, they warmed even more and she worried they’d catch her hair on fire. Hair engulfed in flames was not a good look for anyone.

“Hi,” Cruz said, interpreting for his dad. “I’m Chris. You’re new, right?”

She smiled. “Yes. We just moved back.”

“Your mom is the new sheriff. I was so glad she won,” Chris said as Cruz interpreted, making the most charming face. “I voted for her.”

Auri beamed at him. “Thank you.”

“We have a school project to work on. Is that okay?”

The man narrowed his eyes on his son, then agreed. He signed something really fast, and Cruz said, “Okay, fine.”

They walked past him and to Cruz’s room.

“What did your dad say?”

Cruz was busy picking up clothes and tossing them into a hamper. He moved a pile of books so she could sit at his desk. “He told me I’m still grounded until the stars burn out.”

“Oh. Wow. That sucks. What happened?”

“Nothing. A fight. Not even a fight. An almost fight. It’s all good.”

“An almost fight? Who’d you almost fight?” Then she remembered the kid in the hall. “Oh yeah. That kid from this morning. You weren’t suspended.”

“The kid told Jacobs we weren’t fighting.”

“Were you?”

He shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. He’d been watching TV in his room with the captions on.

“Do you always watch TV with the captions on?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I got used to it. Dad thinks it helped me learn to read at such an early age.”

“Really? How old were you?”

“Is that part of the interview?” He seemed almost as uncomfortable as she was.

Embarrassed, she took out her notebook. “It’s a great hook. Especially with how incredible your poetry is.”

“You a writer or something?”

“I want to be. Or a detective like my mom. Or a brain surgeon.”

He didn’t smile when she said it.

“I’m just kidding. The last thing I want to do is play with people’s brains.”

“So, no zombie apocalypse for you.”

She giggled as the tension in the room eased. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I mean, I tried.”

“Yeah, still grounded.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “I thought—”

“That I was ghosting you?”

“Something like that.” Of course, one had to be dating or in some kind of relationship prior to being ghosted to actually be ghosted, but she didn’t point that out.

He got up and walked out of the room, only to come back with a bottle of baby oil.

She gaped at him. “Um, I don’t know what you think is going to happen here, but—”

“You have pizza sauce.”

Once again, her cheeks heated to the red-hot level of habanero salsa.

He took a tissue and poured some baby oil on it, then leaned in, his face barely inches from hers, and wiped at the corners of her mouth.

She closed her eyes, both humiliated and intrigued, and let him. While his touch on her face was gentle, soothing, it was his other touch, his left hand on her knee, that sent tendrils of electricity lacing through her body.

He pulled the tissue back and showed her the red streaks. “All gone.”