Authors: Delaney Diamond
“
Mentiroso
,” she whispered.
He laughed, and his warm breath brushed across her lips. “It’s a little lie,” he admitted. Suddenly, his expression sobered and he cupped her face in his big hands. “But I’m telling you the truth when I tell you I love you. Do you believe me?”
She nodded. She took the softness of his kiss and burrowed her face in his chest, taking a deep breath to revel in his clean male scent. “Has it only been a week?”
“I know, it feels so much longer.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and trailed even more kisses down her neck. Her body awoke under the tender caresses of his lips. “It’s been too long since I’ve licked you.” His tongue slid along the sensitive spot behind her ear. A delicious shiver ran down her spine. “Kissed you.” He pressed his mouth against hers. “Tasted you.” His tongue dipped between her lips, and she moaned, softening against him.
“Where do you stay?” he asked, his hands roaming impatiently across her back.
“Within walking distance in a ridiculously overpriced apartment,” she answered, popping the top button on his shirt to plant a kiss on his chest below his corded necklace.
“Good. Lead the way.”
They stood pressed against each other and enjoyed a long kiss before they hurried down the sidewalk in the direction of her apartment.
Chapter Sixteen
“Aarón!” Samirah called up the stairs. “Hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.” She made her way back into the kitchen and the breakfast she’d prepared that he wouldn’t have time to eat.
She shook her head when she heard him come bounding down the stairs. He rushed into the kitchen with his book bag on his back, his face flushed and worried.
“You’re really pushing it, mister. You know you’ll be in big trouble with Miguel if you miss it again.”
“Sorry, Samirah.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just hurry up.”
Aarón shoved a few forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth and grabbed a piece of toast. Samirah handed him his lunch money and he raced toward the door. She followed and stood in the doorway to watch him, but he stopped at the bottom of the steps and came rushing back to the door.
“What did you forget?”
“Nothing.” He hesitated for a minute, and then he gave her a hug, holding onto her with surprising strength, crushing her arms to her sides so she couldn’t reciprocate. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a soft tremor in his voice.
Then he dashed off, and one of his new friends from another house joined him in the race up the street. She hoped he didn’t miss the bus. Last time Miguel had grounded him for a week because he had to take him to school on his motorcycle. No hanging out with friends in the neighborhood, no video games, and no television.
Poor kid. She could tell he’d been through a lot. After six weeks, Miguel was still working on him, but they’d gotten closer, and even though Aarón
pouted whenever he received a punishment for some infraction, he obviously needed the structure.
He certainly brought out her maternal instincts and made her think about having kids of her own. Although she and Miguel had talked about the possibility of marriage, they hadn’t made any final decisions yet.
If their relationship progressed to that point, she only wanted one or two. Not four, like her sister. The video clip Rebekah and Rafael sent a few weeks ago showed a healthy baby boy. Rafael’s smug face had declared to the camera, “I guess we’ll have to keep trying.”
She closed the door and went into Miguel’s studio. A large sculpture kept him hard at work. As his first commissioned piece, it depicted the faces of a family of four. The blown up photograph was taped to the wall behind the image he currently worked on, a five-by-six sculpture in relief. He stood in front of it, carving the lines of hair into the little boy’s head.
Samirah rubbed his back.
“Did he get out of here on time?”
“Yeah, I think he made it. Barely.” She kissed his shoulder blade. “Did you sleep down here last night?”
“Yes, I didn’t want to disturb you by coming in and leaving again after a few hours, so I slept on the sofa. I wanted to get as much done as possible. They put down a large deposit and are paying a high price for a fast turnaround, and I don’t want to miss the deadline.”
“You need to get some rest.”
“I know. I appreciate all your help with him.” He turned to her, tired lines around his mouth. “What are you doing today?”
“In a little bit I’m going next door to have coffee with
Geneva
and Thomas. Then I’m going into town to drop off resumes and fill out more applications. I wish that one bakery off Parque Calderon would call me. I’d love to work there.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll find something.”
He dropped the scraper onto the table with the other tools. “I think I will take a nap. I’m tired.” He smothered a yawn. “How about I meet you for lunch?”
“Sounds good.”
“And ah…could you do me a favor? I have a friend who leased a space in town, right off the park. It used to be a restaurant. The previous owners abandoned it to return overseas, and he wants to open another restaurant in the same spot. I’ll take you to look at it, and I want you to tell me what you think.”
“Sure. Which friend is it?” She wasn’t aware any of his friends were interested in opening a restaurant. Maybe she could find work there.
“No one you know.” He walked over to the sink to wash up. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
* * * *
Samirah sat in a shaded spot on the grass in Parque Calderon with an empty container that had previously contained roasted pork and potato cakes. She’d been so hungry she wolfed it down.
The park was a popular hang out in town. It was filled with palm trees and benches and a well-tended lawn. Cafes and other businesses surrounded it, tucked into colonial-style buildings. From here she could see one of the city’s main attractions, the New Cathedral of Cuenca. Three domes covered in sky blue tile sat atop the Romanesque-style building across the street.
People bustled by, an interesting blend of old and new. Some wore trendy, cosmopolitan clothing with cell phones glued to their ears. Meanwhile, several indigenous women strolled past in their colorful skirts holding the hands of their little ones with babies strapped to their backs in blankets. A man leading a small herd of goats offered fresh milk for sale.
Reclining on one elbow, Miguel stirred beside her. He was almost finished with his food. He’d purchased a couple of
humitas
, a tamale-like dish made of corn, onions, cheese, and spices wrapped in a corn husk from his favorite vendor. The scent of it wafted over to Samirah and stoked her appetite even though she’d already finished her own meal.
“Have some.” He must be a mind reader. He lifted a forkful of the fragrant dish toward her mouth. Although full, the tantalizing aroma induced her to part her lips and partake. The savory flavor of the cheese and spices intermingled with the fresh vegetables exploded across her palate, forcing out a soft moan.
“Good, no?”
She nodded, chewing slowly. “Heaven on a fork.”
“Have some more.”
She shook her head in protest. “No, I shouldn’t. Are you trying to fatten me up?”
“No, but I like to watch you eat.”
“You like to watch me do anything,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him.
“True,” he murmured against her mouth. “Especially one of your strip teases.”
“Oh, you really like that.”
He laughed as he finished his meal. “One day I’ll get you to try
cuy
.”
Samirah shook her head. She couldn’t imagine eating guinea pig, especially since the custom in
Ecuador
was to roast them or fry them whole—head, paws, and all.
“How about if I cut off the head for you so it doesn’t seem so strange?”
“How about no? I’m an adventurous eater, but I don’t care what you do, I’m not eating that.” She made a face.
Miguel laughed and rose to his feet. He reached down to help her up.
“Okay, let me show you the place I told you about.”
They strolled across the street hand in hand and he let them into the building. “Wow, this is nice,” Samirah said. Her eyes roamed over the high ceilings and the little round tables set up around the room. “Small, but nice.”
“They left all of this,” Miguel said. “The new owner bought the furniture, appliances, and everything in here at a good price.”
“Who did you say leased this place?”
“There’s a little courtyard in the back, too, for extra seating.” He led the way out the glass doors to the exterior.
“Nice. Extra tables could be set up out here for sure. They could even rent this out for private parties because it’s completely enclosed by the buildings around it.”
They walked back inside and she checked out the kitchen with Miguel following silently behind. Whoever owned the restaurant before must not have stayed long or they were extremely careful. The kitchen showed some wear and tear, but overall it was in good condition.
Back in the main part of the restaurant, she placed her hands on her hips and scanned the room. “This is nice. Your friend is lucky. There’s not much work to be done in here, and they have a prime spot off Parque Calderon, too.”
A little bit of envy twisted inside her. She would have to adjust her sketches, but if this were her place, she could work some magic. A takeout counter could be added over there, and bright colors would spruce the place up. Maybe orange…no, too much…a soft green, or an aqua blue.
“So you like it?” Miguel asked, a curious tone to his voice.
“In my opinion, it’s a good investment.”
“In that case, it’s yours.”
He spoke so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him. She took a good look at him. His features had tightened, and she noted the tension in his broad shoulders. “Wh-what do you mean it’s mine?”
“What’s the matter with your English? Do you need me to spell it out for you?” he teased.
“Miguel, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” Had those words actually come from her mouth? She was turning down her dream. “It’s nice of you to do, but we’re still…I mean…this isn’t a gift you give your girlfriend.”
“You’re not just my girlfriend. We live together.”
“I know, but…” She struggled to find the right words. “We don’t really, really know this is permanent, do we?”
Frown lines marred his forehead. “What are you saying? You plan to leave me?”
“No, I’m only trying to… I love you for doing this, but it doesn’t feel right. I can’t.”
“Will you accept my gift if you’re my wife?”
Samirah’s mouth fell open. “Are you asking me?” Her heart thudded against her breastbone.
“It’s not the way I planned it. Nothing ever goes the way I plan with you. There were supposed to be rose petals and champagne, and a ring.” He raked his fingers through his hair, the increased tension in him obvious. “It’s small, it’s not your dream, it’s not
South
Beach
. But do you think you could stay here, in this small place, and be happy? Could you be happy as my wife? Could you…?” The words rushed out of him, his accent thickening. “Could you stay for good? Maybe during the slow season we could close the restaurant and you could take me to see some of those places you’ve been to, and we could visit a few for the first time together.”