Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(48)
Dressed in a pair of black formfitting leggings and a neon yellow tank, a light sheen of perspiration shining on her chest and face, blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail with sweat-darkened curls clinging to her slender neck, she looked like a sexy post-workout magazine ad come to life.
Her gaze darted from the open medicine cabinet to his empty duffel and back. Suspicion narrowed her eyes as her gaze met his. “What are you looking for?”
“Just putting my stuff away,” he answered, purposefully keeping his tone casual. “You have a nice run?”
Sara’s throat moved with her swallow. Fear, indecision, and distrust chased each other across her face. She took a hesitant step backward. “I, uh, I thought you were Jonathan. Sorry. Didn’t mean to barge in on you like this.”
“What would your brother be snooping for?”
“N-nothing.” She shook her head and backed up another step.
Luis followed, unwilling to let her keep shutting him out.
Her sneakers squeaked in protest against the hardwood floor as she spun away from him.
“Sara, wait! Don’t keep pushing me away. We can’t work together if you do.”
His softly spoken words must have reached her, because instead of walking out, she reached the open door and stopped. Her left hand squeezed and released the brass doorknob indecisively.
“You can trust me,” he promised, praying she believed him.
Several tension-filled seconds passed before she softly closed the door, then rested her forehead against it. Relief seeped through him like an afternoon rain shower washing away the sun’s heat. Her slender back rose and fell on a sigh so weighty he felt the heaviness himself.
Silently Luis moved to sit on the foot of the bed.
“I don’t want you to look at me differently,” Sara finally said, her back still to him. Her forehead still pressed against the door.
“I won’t. I couldn’t.”
Her fists clenched at her side, she swiveled to face him. Resolve stamped her classic features. “I thought you were Jonathan, ransacking the bathroom looking for a hidden stash of laxatives.”
Hidden stash of laxatives?
What the hell? That didn’t make sense. Why would she be hiding—The question dissipated as quickly as it had formed as Luis sifted through moments of their time together.
The weird food-sharing dance her family had done over dinner last night. Her mom’s fears about Sara extending her morning run. The use of words such as “recovery” and “obsessive behavior.” The belief that her brother might be combing through her belongings in search of laxatives or purgatives.
Each clue clicked into place, the puzzle finally starting to make sense as the pieces aligned to show a clearer picture. Sara suffered from—
“I have an ED. An eating disorder,” she clarified. Though Luis understood the acronym.
Chin high, shoulders stiff and straight, she stared back at him. Almost daring him to prove himself wrong. Change the way he thought or felt about her based on whatever incorrect label her disorder might lead others to brand her with.
Luis had studied the basics about EDs as a paramedic. His sister, Anamaría, a firefighter paramedic and a physical fitness trainer–nutritionist herself, knew a hell of a lot more about the disorder. What he did remember was that while recovery was a healthy stage for Sara to have reached, individuals suffering from an eating disorder benefitted when they had support and encouragement from their loved ones and those within their close inner circle. He also knew without a doubt that he wanted to belong in Sara’s inner circle.
“Thank you,” he told her.
“For what?” Her brow furrowed with confusion.
“For trusting me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
Her slender shoulder hitched, an apathetic shrug from the woman he knew hurt more than she wanted to admit. Also one he believed was stronger than she recognized.
He held his hand out to her.
Sara dropped her hesitant gaze to his open palm. Her fists curled again, then slowly relaxed at her sides. An innate certainty told Luis that this was the moment. Right here. Right now. In this small upstairs bedroom with the Key West sun streaming through the skylight turning Sara’s high ponytail a burnished gold. They tiptoed on the edge of a precipice in their crazy, swift-moving, no-longer-only-made-up relationship.
The need for her to take that leap, to truly trust him, roared in his ears. It squeezed his chest like a vice, tightening with each second that ticked by without her answering. He waited, patience personified on the outside, while on the inside his gut clenched with his need for her to let him all the way in.
He didn’t stop to ask himself why this was so important. For now, he simply accepted that it was.
Her gaze slowly traveled up his arm, rising to meet his, and Luis found himself drowning in the hope he saw churning in the sea green depths of her expressive eyes.
She edged a baby step forward to place her cool hand in his. Her fingers trembled. The proof of her vulnerability humbled him, and Luis curled his fingers softly around hers. The corners of her mouth tipped up the tiniest bit, and in that instant he knew he was lost.
“Come, sit with me for a sec, will you?” he asked, relieved when she nodded and joined him.
Chapter 11
Sara plopped onto the queen-sized bed next to Luis, hyperaware of her sweaty workout clothes and ripe post-run smell. Especially when the scent of his musky aftershave drifted over her like an aphrodisiac.