Evenings at the Argentine Club (39 page)

She looked as distracted as he felt. “Ah. No. Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean to get so bent out of shape at that Christmas party.” He plopped down on the patio chair, suddenly exhausted.
At least this was not rented. It belonged to his mother. For tonight, he could keep it. “I guess I thought marriage proposals
were supposed to be like they are in the movies.” He laughed. “You know, all romantic and happy.”

“They are.” She sat beside him. “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“My timing was all off.” He shook his head. “And I didn’t know you had this great opportunity with your company. If I’d known,
maybe I would have waited.”

“I should have told you as soon as I found out.”

Noise from inside the house flowed out of the French doors. Men maneuvering furniture. Grunting, swearing.

“They better not bump our walls,” she said. Then her eyes flickered to him. “I mean your walls.”

He didn’t mind the slip at all, and in fact he hoped it was indicative of what she planned to do. “Have you spoken with your
mom?”

“Not this week. I knew I was coming home and figured I’d see her. I came here first to see you.”

He told her the story of the beach house.

“Eric,” she said, full of awe and gratitude in her voice. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you
did that for my parents.”

“It was fate. Finding that house was a stroke of luck.” He leaned back and rested his woven fingers on his stomach.

“So it’s a done deal?”

“Done. I’ll be spending the next two or three months getting it ready for them to move in.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He was going to say it was not a big deal. But it was, and he knew it. “You’re welcome.”

“Hey, we’re done, dude,” one of the movers called from inside the house. “Need a signature.”

Eric stood. “Be right back.” He went inside to sign.

Victoria drew a breath. The outside air was cold, and she shivered. She stood and followed Eric inside. The house was completely
empty, and her footsteps sounded loud on the wooden floors. The movers left and closed the front door behind them.

Eric buried his hands in his pockets and looked around. “Damn. Want to stage my house again? With permanent items this time?”

She laughed. Her eyes met his contemplative gaze, and her heart beat hard against her chest. “Maybe. I need to see where we
stand. I’m still not sure why you came home this time. Not sure if you’re still angry with me. Or if you’re going to leave
each time things don’t go your way. If I should take my things and go, or if… the marriage proposal is still on the table.”

“Fair enough. I came home because this is where I want to settle down and live my life. I’m
not
still angry with you. I’m
not
going to leave each time things don’t go my way. You shouldn’t pack your bags and leave, and the marriage proposal is most
definitely
still on the table.”

“Hmm.” She walked the empty living room, stopped at the front door and leaned her back against it. Watching him as he took
up the entire room all by himself. Gorgeous.

“But you’re angry with
me
,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You just
left
.”

“I didn’t want to get in your way. I wanted you to go do this job in Washington.” He moved forward, his hands still in his
pockets. “I want you to be successful and be free to do whatever makes you happy. I want to be your biggest supporter, not
the weight around your ankles. I thought if I came home before you left, my pitiful crying might make you want to stay.”

“Your crying?”

“Oh yeah, it would have been an ugly scene.” He continued to approach. “I would have bawled my eyes out. You would have felt
guilty and stayed.” He gave a playful shudder. “Ugly.”

“So let me get this straight. You stayed gone because you weren’t strong enough to watch me leave?”

“You got it.” He stepped closer, standing only a few inches from her now.

She fisted her hand at her sides to keep from touching him. “So instead you disappeared, refused to take my calls, and made
me cry
myself
to sleep each night.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the door by her shoulders. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Don’t you dare touch me.” Although her breath was already coming in thicker.

He stepped closer and dropped his forehead on her shoulder, his hands still on the door. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t
know how to stay out of your way while still being by your side.” He angled his head so his lips touched the side of her neck.
“Tell me I didn’t blow this with you,
please,
Victoria.”

Tears clouded her vision. She closed her eyes and brought her hands up, placing them on his chest. Then she turned her head
and found his lips.

He responded immediately. Growling in response, kissing her hungrily. His hands sliding down the door, but still not touching
her body. But every other inch of his body came in contact with hers. He pressed her hard against the door. Bit her bottom
lip, kissed down her neck, along her breastbone, to her breasts. Her knees grew weak, and she began sliding down. He finally
let go of the door, wrapped his arms around her, and helped her to the floor.

She should have stopped this. The wood floor was cold and hard. They still had much more to talk about. And sex wouldn’t mend
the wounds they’d inflicted on each other out of sheer stupidity. But none of that mattered in those minutes where the clothes
came off and their bodies came together hard and feverishly. The explosion of passion came quickly, and left them both breathless
and drained.

Once she caught her breath, she put herself together as best she could and sat up, her back against the wall. He lay sprawled
on the floor. “Vicki?”

“What?”

“The older I get, the more I realize I’m not perfect.”

She laughed because that sounded so funny. “You mean you thought you were?”

He pushed himself up on an elbow. “Yes.”

“Well, welcome to reality.”

“So, you knew I wasn’t perfect?”

“Honey, you’re pretty darn close.”

He smiled. “Does that mean I’m forgiven for wanting to claim you for myself and never let you go?”

She stared at him. Although she’d been angry and hurt that he cut off communication the way he had, she was as much at fault.
In her mind, she was already planning a fabulous career, finally traveling away from this town. Finally free. And a marriage
proposal from a man who wanted nothing more than to return home and settle comfortably into it sent her into a panicky, emotional
dive. But looking at him now, she understood that he wasn’t going to tie her down. With him she’d been able to soar. Look
how far she’d gotten. And he came back to continue to support her. “Okay,” she said, as they waged a staring war across the
room. “You’re forgiven.”

“I was starting to sweat waiting for your answer.”

“If we still have a bathtub, I’ll help you get nice and clean.”

He pushed himself up. “Shit, this floor is hard.” He stood and took her hand. “I like that idea, but I’m not done getting
dirty yet.” He led her to his bedroom, where at least he had a mattress on the floor. They took all their clothes off and
got under the blankets. It was still early evening, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. They snuggled
together, their legs wrapped around each other.

“Will you have to travel a lot with your design company?” he asked.

“Not really. I think most of their contracts are around here. But occasionally they get work in other states. It won’t affect
me regardless.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to go ahead and open my own design studio right here in Burbank. That way I can finish my classes, get my own clients,
and stay close to those I love. What about you?”

He drew a breath. “I’m going to need to travel back and forth between Austin where I just bought a place, somewhere in Arizona
where my dad just bought a place, and here where your parents just bought the beach house.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re going to need a traveling interior designer for all these places, or I’m going to be
upset again.”

“I absolutely need an interior designer.” He kissed her forehead. “But don’t worry, the guy I left in charge in Austin is
really good. I’ll go back three or four times to get it completed, then I’ll try to stay local.”

“Promise?”

He held out a hand. “Promise.”

She placed her hand in his to shake, but instead brought it to her chest. “Then, when all that’s done, I’d like to officially
announce our engagement.”

“Why wait?”

“I don’t trust you,” she said, but with a smile. “You might decide to take off again. Your track record sucks.”

“It does. You’re right.” His hand slid up her chest and curved around the back of her neck. “And every time, I come back and
decide to stay because of you. Must mean I’m crazy in love with you.”

“And every time I welcome you back. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re crazy in love with me?”

“Or just plain crazy.”

He laughed and kissed her. “Just marry me before we have our first child, okay?”

“Deal,” she said, with a prickly feeling in the base of her spine as she thought about how that reunion by the front door
a few minutes ago had been condomless, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a birth control pill.

Oh, what the hell. She’d deal with whatever life brought her. Although this time… “Get the box of condoms,” she muttered.

He chuckled as he kissed his way down her body.

S
ix months later, sitting on the newly constructed and stained wraparound porch at her mother’s beach house, Victoria was happily
not
pregnant. In fact, she was weighed down by very little these days.

In the last few busy months, Eric finished the Austin house and flipped it for a decent profit. Then they both spent a month
and a half in Arizona, fixing up Antonio’s house. Eric turned it over to a real-estate firm to sell.

They returned home and Victoria spent most of her time studying and taking classes. In May, the Argentine Club had its first-ever
non-Argentine event, celebrating Cinco de Mayo with some fabulous performers and delicious, spicy Mexican dishes. The day
was a huge hit, and Jaqueline received all the praise she deserved for organizing it.

And then there was this beach house. After weeks of reconstruction and designing the inside just right, Victoria spent the
weekend helping her mother move in, and now they were taking some time off to relax.

“Eric did an amazing job on this house,” she said under her floppy summer hat.

“You’ve got to convince him to take your father’s check. We never expected him to work for free.”

“Dad paid for all the materials. All Eric did was donate a little time.”

“You
both
donated a lot of time,” Jaqueline corrected. “And Victor now wants you both to get our old house ready to sell.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Victoria lifted her head to gaze at her mother. “Carmen is going to live there for a while when she comes
home next month.”

“I thought she’d stay here, with us.”

Victoria smiled. “Dad told me you were thinking that, and he said no way in hell was he going to share his time alone with
you.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’d let Carmen use the old house if I were you.”

Jaqueline blushed.

“Where is Dad anyway?”

“I think he’s at the Santa Monica restaurant today. Do you know that that place alone has practically paid for the construction
loans? It’s done better than the Newport Beach restaurant.”

“Well, the land alone cost him a pretty penny in Newport.”

“The investors are very pleased,” Jaqueline said. “I don’t think he’s going to have any problem when it comes time to build
the other restaurants.”

Victoria opened the bottle of suntan lotion and spread some on her legs. “He told me. How
do
you feel about him planning to open even more restaurants?”

“I asked him to wait a year. We just got these open a few months ago, and I want to make sure, you know, things continue to
go well.”

Victoria knew her father probably wasn’t thrilled about that. “Hmm.”

“He told me that was a great idea. That he was happy to sit here on the beach for a year and enjoy all his good fortune. And
we’re going to take a month off to visit Argentina.” Jaqueline sighed—a content, happy sigh that said everything was finally
right.

Victoria smiled and stared out at the vast sea spread before her. Her parents hadn’t crossed an ocean to build their life
in America. No weeks on a ship, experiencing seasickness and disease. Their struggles had started once they got here. Would
they make it? Would they be accepted into this new society? Would their dreams really come true, or would it become a nightmare?
And like all immigrants, they’d suffered and almost lost the spirit that had brought them to this land to begin with. But
they had also survived and had helped build a better America. She, as their daughter and as a proud American, benefited from
their hard work and sacrifices, and was grateful. So very grateful.