Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(12)

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.