Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(58)
It had been an eventful day. Alternating between pretending to be her attentive partner and squashing his desire to be her real one. The stress from learning about her recovery and the mental calisthenics trying to stay on guard, mindful of potential triggers. Then Ruth’s assumption that Sara would attend mass with him in the morning.
He should be mentally spent. Feeling like one of the limp deadweight simulation mannequins they used for practice drills at the fire station.
Knowing his body would benefit from rejuvenating sleep, certain he’d get very little tonight, Luis swiped a hand along the inside bathroom wall to flip the light switch. When he turned back around, the low-wattage bulb in the bedside lamp, its glass bowl filled with seashells, bathed Sara in a soft, inviting glow.
She lay in their bed, the covers tucked primly under her arms, her blue-green eyes watching him intently. “I’m sure there’s a Starbucks or breakfast café near the church where I can wait.”
Luis climbed in beside her. Painstakingly careful to stay on his half of the far-too-small mattress. “You can’t miss mass on account of me. Or my familia.”
“I don’t want to cause a problem. So, if—”
“How ’bout we drive together and walk in separately. My parents like to stay and enjoy fellowship over donuts and coffee after mass. I’ll do a quick round of hello-good-byes, then meet up with you at my truck. We’ll clear out of the parking lot before anyone sees us.”
It was doable. The weekly catch-up that his parents, tías, tíos, extended relatives, and friends engaged in following mass often turned into a lengthy gabfest. Chisme flying between groups. Even the men were known to gossip, though his papi would never admit it.
As kids, Luis and his siblings wound up drifting over to the elementary school playground to run off the donut and red fruit punch sugar high. As teens, they’d lived for the day Carlos turned sixteen and bought his first car. That beat-up old Hornet with its rusty patches, faded blue paint, and threadbare seat cushions had seen better days, but to them it meant freedom.
Sara worried her lower lip as she considered his idea. “You think that’ll work?”
Luis slid underneath the cool sheets. “Yeah,” he answered, more confidently than he actually felt. Pulling a fast one on his mami was not an easy feat.
The worried furrow between Sara’s brows eased. Though it didn’t completely smooth away. “If you’re sure, I’d like to go. I haven’t been to mass here, and I have a tradition when I visit a new location.”
Chin tucked, she poked at the dark green embroidered design swirling along the top few inches of the sheet. He waited, expecting her to elaborate. Instead, Sara propped herself on her left elbow to reach up and switch off the lamp.
Luis had a tantalizing glimpse of the length of her slim figure hugged by her silky pj’s before the room plunged into muted darkness. Overhead, the skylight offered a picture-framed view of the starry midnight sky. Moonbeams streamed in, stretching across the bed like a lazy lover.
Lying on his back, Luis folded his hands on top of the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to ask about her tradition. What it was. What it meant to her. How it started.
Hell, he wanted to know everything about her. That increasing need, the fear of it taking off in a blazing fire he couldn’t contain, made him keep those questions to himself.
Sara shifted beside him. Her arm brushed against his, and Luis immediately tensed. Hyperaware of her nearness.
“Sorry,” she murmured. The sheets tugged as she slid away.
An awkward silence joined them, another unwanted bedmate.
Luis forced himself to lie still. Measuring his breathing. Ignoring the faint citrusy scent that perpetually lingered on her skin. Sleep eluded him. For the second night in a row, he accepted the fact that, thanks to the enticing woman lying only a few inches away, he wouldn’t get much rest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
He shrugged, then realized she probably couldn’t see his reaction in the dark. “No problem.”
Sara’s soft chuckle sounded in the quiet; then she rolled onto her side to face him. Luis swiveled his head to find her watching him, her right arm bent at the elbow, tucked between her head and the pillow.
Her beautiful face with its classic features was a pencil artist’s study of light and dark. The moonlight reflected in her eyes, tiny bright squares in the shadowed pools. The corners of her mouth curved in a teasing, impish grin.
“What?” he asked.
“No problem? Seriously?”
He shrugged again, uncomfortable under her teasing scrutiny. Secretly admitting that being with her had quickly become a big problem, only not in the way she probably thought. Finding it more and more difficult to maintain the emotional detachment that enabled him to excel at his job. Or not blow up what remained of his tentative relationship with his younger brother.
More important, it kept him from making the same mistake of falling for the wrong woman again. Someone who took his trust and love and twisted them into grotesque weapons used to deeply wound him.
“You’ve put up with my sister’s bluntness and, call a spade a spade, her snobbery,” Sara continued. “You’ve buddied up with my brother. Bowled over my parents, especially my mother. And survived our hypercompetitive family game night. Most men would have hopped in a speedboat and gunned the engine to get away.”