Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(7)

“I wish I could take credit. Vero made it.”

“I know,” Javi said through a grin. “It’s her mother’s recipe. Recognized that smell the second I came in the door. I haven’t tasted Vero’s mom’s cooking in years.”

“Years?” I asked, grabbing him a soda from the fridge and setting it in front of him. “Why so long?” Vero’s and Ramón’s mothers shared an apartment in Maryland. It wasn’t far. And from the photos I’d seen in Vero’s scrapbook, Javi, Vero, and Ramón had been inseparable growing up.

Javi shrugged. “Vero’s mom doesn’t like me much. It’s easier for Ramón if I don’t tag along.” A long lock of his hair fell over one eye as he hunched over his bowl. Vero appeared beside him and snatched it out from under him, sending a splash of broth over the rim and soaking the front of his shirt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

He held stubbornly to his spoon as he reached for a napkin. “I was eating.”

“Does this look like a drive-through to you? You can’t just roll up in here ’cause a light’s on in my window and expect to be served.”

Javi blotted his chest. He stood up slowly as he crumpled his napkin, his damp T-shirt clinging to his skin. “Too bad. It tasted every bit as good as I remembered.” His dark eyes roved over her upturned face, lingering on her mouth. “I was tempted to ask for more.” His grin was roguish as he licked his spoon.

“Give me that,” she said, yanking it away from him, “and get your scrubby ass out of my kitchen.”

“You’ve called my ass a lot of things, Veronica, but scrubby wasn’t one of them.”

She pointed to the door and began shouting at him in Spanish.

“Vero!” I hollered over her, lowering my voice when I remembered the children were sleeping. “I invited Javi in after he gallantly came to my rescue. The least we can do is let him finish his meal.”

She tore her eyes from him. “What rescue? What happened?” she asked me.

“I was getting out of my van when I heard the crash,” Javi said, taking his spoon from her. “Saw the busted glass on the ground and figured something was up, but by the time I got to the backyard, Finlay had the situation under control.”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “It was just Cam, but it was heroic of Javi to step in.” Vero’s mouth parted around a question. I gave a tight shake of my head. Neither one of us would be foolish enough to discuss the details of Cam’s message in front of Javi. I directed a pointed look at the bowl she was holding hostage.

She shoved it toward Javi with a huff. “Doesn’t explain what you were doing here in the first place.”

“Just doing your cousin a favor.” He jutted his chin toward a thick stack of junk mail on the table, mostly clothing catalogs and coupon circulars by the looks of it. “Ramón wanted to bring your mail himself, but he was afraid someone might follow him here. He said some people have been to his apartment looking for you. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” Vero said defensively. “Just some girls from my old sorority. They think I have something that belongs to them. I told them I don’t, but they won’t let it go. It’s not a big deal.”

“Your cousin seems to think it is.”

“My cousin worries too much.”

“Maybe I do, too.”

“Really?” she snapped. “Because I don’t remember you being there to help me pack when I dropped out of school and moved out.” I stood silently in the corner, watching Vero’s jaw clench. She picked up the pile of mail without looking at it and tossed it in the trash. “I don’t see anything here worth saving. You shouldn’t have wasted your time.”

Javi rose from the table and put his empty bowl in the sink. His T-shirt rode up as he slipped his jacket over his shoulders. Vero stole a glance at him, her cheeks flushing in response.

“You’re probably right. Thanks for the meal anyway. See you around,” he said as he showed himself out.

I caught a flash of regret on her face as the door closed behind him. She threw up her hands, muttering to herself as she turned to the sink and washed his bowl. When she was done, she tossed the sponge in the basin.

“So,” I said, reaching into the pantry for a bottle of wine, “how long have you been in love with Javi?”

“I am not in love with him.”

I poured two glasses and slid one over the counter toward her. “Methinks thou doth protest too much.”

“Well methinks you read too many romance novels.”

“Which makes me an expert on the subject.”

“Not according to Sylvia.”

I ignored that. “There’s obviously history between the two of you.”

“One that doesn’t need repeating,” she said as she sucked down the contents of her glass. “What did Cam want?”

I unfolded the note from my pocket and pushed it across the table toward her. Her eyes went wide as she read the message from Feliks. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to bed,” I said, gulping down the last of my wine. “I’m exhausted. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” I carried Feliks’s envelope to the stove and held the wax seal over the burner, watching the embossed Z melt and blacken. Then I shredded the letter into tiny bits and threw them in the trash.