Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(82)
Guilt pressed down on her like a two-ton whale. Sara closed her eyes, blocking out the peach, orange, and purple early evening sun streaks smearing the sky.
“I am so sorry about this,” she offered, knowing the words were little compensation for what lay ahead when they arrived at his childhood home.
A deep groove cut in between Luis’s brows at his frown. “For what? I’m the one dragging you out here. Away from fine dining at a five-star restaurant with your family to a buffet-style madhouse with mine. Where, as much as I’ll try to fend her off of you, I’m fairly certain my mom will be in prime Cuban Inquisition mode.”
The exasperation tinging his voice coupled with his over-exaggeration assuaged Sara’s fears and tickled her funny bone.
His frown deepened at her chuckle. “What’s so funny?”
“The Cuban Inquisition? Really?”
His eyes bugged out, his brows rising high. “Uh, yeah! Just wait.”
She sighed, oddly comforted by the fact that, despite the potential trouble her meeting his family could cause, Luis seemed mostly worried about her. His kind streak no longer surprised her really. It simply confirmed one of the multiple reasons why she was falling so hard and so fast for this generous giant of a man.
“At least, we can count on Anamaría for help deflecting,” he continued. “Mostly for your sake, not mine. She’d love to see me squirm. But for you, the biggest name in social media influencer circles and her absolute idol, she’ll take heat from Mami.”
“I am not the biggest name,” Sara deferred, slightly embarrassed by Anamaría’s effusive admiration this morning. Though also proud that her career trajectory would inspire his sister. “But I was serious when I said I’d sit down to go over her business plans, answer any questions.”
Luis waved away her offer. “You don’t have to do that. You’re on vacation.”
“I know I don’t have to; I want to. She’s got a lot of drive and energy. Important traits in this business. Her website and Insta accounts are pretty good. She could use a little tweaking with her branding. Some help networking within her target markets. Maybe—”
“How do you know all that?” Luis interrupted.
“I looked her up this afternoon. I’m serious; if I can offer some guidance, I’d like to.”
Releasing the steering wheel, he grasped her hand where it rested between their seats. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. Warmth spread down her arm, oozing across her chest to wrap around her heart.
“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
Sara hitched a shoulder, secretly pleased by his praise. “I try.”
He winked, and she found herself grinning back at him like a lovesick fool.
They reached another key and soon passed a military base. The truck continued traveling north on an overpass, but her gaze followed the exit road heading toward a black and white structure, its support beams and a small guardroom straddling the roads in and out of the base. The words U.S. Naval Air Station Key West were emblazoned across the front.
Silently, she stared at the dense vegetation outside her window. Palm trees and flowering bushes peppered the land. Thick mangroves with their green leaves and twisting brown roots filled the areas where land and ocean water met.
Too soon they neared a green and white road sign indicating “Big Coppitt Key.”
Luis laid their joined hands on his jeans-clad thigh, his face sobering.
Sara’s heartbeat slowed. Dread reared its nefarious head to whisper destructive thoughts in her ear.
“You’re sure I’m not underdressed?” She smoothed a palm down the skirt of her Lilly Pulitzer floral print swing dress. The navy and multi-blue-hued patterned material was a new favorite, the dress a gift from a recent photo shoot. But the halter neck and cutaway shoulders weren’t exactly meet-the-parents conservative. She’d grabbed a thin cover-up sweater just in case.
“You look beautiful.” Luis squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I wasn’t kidding; our familia dinner is the opposite of formal. Carlos’s kids often show up in their baseball clothes after practice.”
“Thank you. You clean up pretty good yourself.”
Her gaze slid from his deep green polo to his dark jeans and tan court sneakers. Pretty good didn’t nearly begin to describe him. In almost anything he wore . . . and didn’t wear . . . Luis Navarro was the epitome of hot. With a capital H.
The flash of the blinker on his truck’s instrument panel had her breath hitching.
Luis shot her a you-okay frown as he slowed the vehicle, waiting for a break in the southbound traffic so he could make the left turn.
“Same stick close to the truth game plan,” he reminded her. “We recently met here. Struck up a friendship, and I’m simply playing tour guide for the week.” He patted her hand on his thigh, then released her to maneuver the steering wheel as he pulled onto Diamond Drive.
The street was lined with a hodgepodge of older houses low to the ground and new ones up high, built after regulations stipulated homes be raised to prevent flooding during hurricane season. Palm, poinciana, and other flowering trees she couldn’t name provided shade. Bicycles and boats decorated several yards, and she caught sight of the canal that ran behind the homes on each side of the road, allowing them easy access to the ocean at the end of each street.