“It doesn’t make sense, I know, but when I thought you were a kid…”
“Mason, I’m literally homeless so I’m not above manual labor if that’s what you’re thinking.” I lean forward and hold his gaze. “I’d be grateful for the job. And if it doesn’t work out, you don’t have to feel obligated to keep me on.”
“Well, it would only be temporary. Like freelance, based on what jobs we have.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m totally cool with that. Grateful to be making money again. Alex got me fired from my last job.”
“Really? How?”
“I was waiting tables at Alfonso’s and he was hanging out at the bar a lot, getting drunk, and watching me. One night he pushed my manager into the taco bar. He didn’t like the way he was looking at me.”
“You’re right. You are a magnet for trouble. Too bad your boss didn’t press charges.”
“He wanted to. But of course Alex’s cousin bailed him out and talked Gary out of pressing charges.”
“But you had to take the fall?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry you’ve had it so tough.” His eyes are filled with such compassion I know he means it. “Let’s go, huh? Might as well go get you on the payroll.”
“Really?” Hope blooms in me and my quickened pulse has me wiggling in my seat. “Thanks, boss.”
Chapter 9
Mason
When I enter my house later that afternoon, I’m greeted by something I’ve never experienced in my own place. The smell of home-cooked food and music playing—admittedly louder than I’d prefer. I stop at the open door and from my vantage point, I can only see half the kitchen. I spy the curvy, dark-haired beauty, holding up a glass of wine in the hand I can see, and facing the stove. She’s swaying to the music, coming in and out of my view. When I realize I’m smiling—and staring—I give myself a mental shaking and close the door.
I put my bag in the closet since she’s staying in the room I’d usually put it in. She’s singing now and still hasn’t noticed I’m here. I stand at the counter as she adjusts the flame on the stove, takes a sip of red wine, and then peeks at something in the oven. The simple actions make me smile.
I don’t want to startle her, but if she catches me standing here staring, she might think I’m—once again—creepy. Just a moment longer. I can’t seem to help making a habit of watching her but there’s something so alluring about her. Not just beautiful but something I can’t put my finger on and now is not the time to analyze. “Ari.”
She turns quickly and gasps. “Mierda! You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry. You didn’t hear me come in.”
“Obviously. You hungry?”
“I hadn’t noticed until I walked in and smelled that. What is it?”
“Well, I’ve got a little Sancocho warming up here. You can have that whenever, but the main dish won’t be ready for about half an hour.”
“Okay, I don’t know what you said but based on the smell alone, it sounds good.”
“Basically,” she says, pointing at the pan on the stove, “this is soup. And in the oven is arroz con pollo. Chicken and rice.”
“Wait, I know I’m not a great cook, but I doubt I had everything you needed for that.”
“Justice took me by a little market on the way here.”
She said it so casually I almost didn’t notice. “Justice? Why didn’t Logan bring you back?”
“He had to go. I didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but Justice…what a sweetheart he is. He said he had the time…”
I’ll just bet. Beautiful young woman in his charge, I’m sure he didn’t mind taking the time once he saw her. “Yeah, he’s charming all right.”
“He mentioned he’s home for the summer and doing some PT. It sucks about his injury.”
“He’s through the worst of it. Unfortunately, it’s a reoccurring injury. It’s kept him from garnering that starter position as quarterback.” I know he’s been staying at the house since finals were over, but I don’t know all that’s going on with him these days. There was a time when we were close and it’s tough to see how that’s changed. I only know this thing with his shoulder has been devastating for him, likely changed his future.
“He seems to have a good attitude about the whole thing. I like him.” She walks around the counter and into the living room where she sits and sets her wine down in front of her on the coffee table.
I follow her over and lift the glass away the moment she sets it down.
“Um, I am over twenty-one, remember?” She stares up at me with those mesmerizing dark eyes.
I eye her back as she’s speaking, leaning over until our faces are almost level with each other. I reach past her shoulder and hear her intake of breath when I grab a coaster beside her and slide it under the glass before setting it back down in front of her.
“Oh,” she says with a shrug. “My bad.”
“No problem. It’s just…my gramps made this coffee table for me, so it’s more than just a piece of furniture.”
“I picture your gramps a sort of tough guy. A cool dude who everyone listens to…even you.”
My mouth drops but I close it immediately when a thought hits me. “Justice told you that, right?”
“Actually, he barely mentioned him. He mostly talked about himself.”
I chuckle and sit on the edge of the chair next to her. “That sounds about right. Then how did you know?”
“Just a feeling. I get those sometimes. Always have.” She shrugs one shoulder.
“Well you are spot on. Gramps is the man. Gives great advice too.”
“You’re very lucky. Your family seems great and…I hope I get to meet them all.”
I can feel the loneliness coming off her in waves and seeping into me, and all I want to do in the moment is take it all from her. “You will,” I say not just to reassure her but as a pledge to myself to make that happen. For whatever it would be worth to her, I know my family would make her feel welcome.
“Maybe when I help Justice, I can do it at the house?”
“Help Justice with what?”
“I told him I’d help him with his Spanish class. Sort of a thank you for taking me shopping.”
“Spanish?” I cock my head to the side as I lean my elbows across my knees.
“He told me he’s taking a summer school class online. Español.”
Not that I’m making excuses for why she shouldn’t, but a question comes to mind. “But you’re Colombian. Is the Spanish different?”
“Not much. But my neighbor who babysat me was from Mexico. I’m fluent and can help him with anything.” She lifts one shoulder. “Plus, I think it will be fun. I like helping.”
Hmm. I make a mental note to spend some time talking with him about his future, see if he needs some advice. “Sounds like you two had a nice long chat.”
She smiles and her eyes sparkle, like she’s got a secret or has the upper hand. In what, I’ve got no idea. If she wants to help my heartbreaker of a little brother, that’s her choice. But if I warn her, she’ll just take it the wrong way, which it appears she has already, so I add, “I’m glad you have someone your age to talk to.”
She eyes me over her wine glass as she sips. “Did you really just say that?”
“Yeah. Did it sound as condescending as I think?”
She nods. “Our age doesn’t make us different, Mason. By the way, can I get you some wine?”
I chuckle because the question feels odd given our circumstances. “Not yet, thanks.” Then I nod and say, “Before that incident at the bar, I might’ve agreed with you about age.”
“Okay, I had that coming. But age doesn’t make a difference to me. I can relate to someone like Justice just as well as I could with your grandfather.”
“I don’t doubt that…” I grin. “Gramps is as much the ladies’ man as Justice.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you a l
adies’ man?”
She says it casually and yet the question feels intimate. This whole setting and conversation feel intimate and the fact that I’m enjoying it worries me some. “Hardly.”
“I’ll reserve my judgement on that one. But I will say we have other, greater differences than age.”
Though I probably shouldn’t head down this road, I continue because my curiosity is now in control. “As in?”
“Culture, background, income”—she moves her head up and down—“fashion.”
I look down. “You don’t like the way I dress? This is a great suit.”
She nods. “Es muy guapo.”
I rub at my jaw. “Translation, please?”
“I was agreeing with you. “It’s very nice. But is that the only thing you own…suits?”
Before I can answer, she adds, “It feels so formal sitting here talking to you in your living room while you’re dressed like that. Don’t you change when you come home?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s because I usually don’t get home this early. But at some point, yeah, I take the suit off.” Though, I’m sure she doesn’t want me striding around here in my boxer briefs like I normally would.
“I feel bad now. You’re just here because I’m here? Don’t feel like you have to—”
“I don’t.” She doesn’t need to know I do. And I am.
“What are you usually doing if you’re not home? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Working late, meeting with clients, out to dinner or over at Megan’s, family…”
“Oh. I didn’t want to be nosy but since you brought it up, are you guys like engaged or something?”
“Not even close.” I lean back in the chair and throw my ankle across my knee. “We actually just broke up…I think.”
“You think?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
I struggle with what to say because I’m not sure myself. The fact that I’m not all broken up about it should tell me something. Then again, I don’t recall ever taking a breakup hard. Maybe Megan and I were nothing more than business associates with benefits. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” I give her a genuine smile to which she returns and then stands.
“Dinner should be ready soon, if you want to change, get more comfortable. We’ve established you have other clothes, right? I mean there’s not going to be any surprises…” She holds back a grin.
“Of course I do.
“So, go.” She head-gestures down the hall as if she’s lived here for years. “I’ll get everything ready.”
“Okay.” I walk down to my room a little dazed from the surreal scene we are playing here and remind myself it’s not playtime at all. She’s a stranger. She might be exotically beautiful and sort of sweet despite her tough exterior, but I don’t know much about her. In reality, all of that makes her that much more dangerous to me. And she comes with a lot of baggage. Reminding myself of that is me being careful, not a snob. She is in my home, after all.
I stare into my closet like I’m trying to pick an outfit for a blind date—something I’ve never been on—and not to sit at the table with a girl I hardly know. Girl? Woman. Is she right that age doesn’t matter? I play it safe and throw on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt and head back out there after stalling in my room seems idiotic.
The table is already set with utensils, two glasses of red wine, and I’m surprised to see two short round glass candles lit and in the center. The music from before is still on but turned lower.
“Based on the look on your face, I take it you didn’t know you had these.”
“Yeah, I guess I forgot.” I pull out her chair even though it seems odd. This isn’t a date but everything about it feels like one.
“Sit. I’ll be right there.”
“Weren’t you the one who didn’t want me waiting on her?”
“I don’t,” she says, walking over with two bowls. “This is different.”
When she sets a bowl in front of me, her hair brushes my shoulder and I instinctively inhale the scent left behind when she returns to the counter. It’s probably nothing more than shampoo, but now I can think of nothing else but running my fingers through that thick mane. Dammit, this is not the direction you should be heading. While she’s still in the kitchen, I watch her move about like she’s completely at ease. “Is Ari short for something,” I blurt out.
“She chuckles as she’s piling rice onto a plate. “Ariana?” The way she says it is like she’s singing a melody.
“That’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she says, smiling as she carries over two plates with chicken and rice on them. “Looks like we’re eating both at the same time. I lost track of time.”
“No worries,” I say with a hesitant grin. “This is really all too much.”
“I love cooking so…” She holds a spoon of soup over the bowl and stares at me, like she’s waiting on me to go first. I take a quick taste of the soup and she follows suit. “It’s no trouble.”
“And it’s delicious. Seems you have more than one talent.”
“Oh, I do,” she says with a tease in her voice.
The comment catches me off guard, leaving me speechless; she giggles.
We both dig in and I can’t help but watch her, notice the smooth, olive skin of her cheeks, her long dark lashes as she looks down on her plate. She doesn’t seem self-conscious about eating like some women are. She asks me some questions about my work, our company. We discuss her new temporary part-time job at Bridges and the fact that the timing will likely be perfect so the job concludes around the time Alex heads to Vegas. Neither of us talks about the possibility of her continuing on. I also don’t ask what her plans are once she has her stuff. Honestly, I’m not sure this whole thing is going to shake out the way she planned.
I want to ask her more questions about her family, her situation, but I also don’t want her to feel like I’m grilling her. I’m genuinely interested, so I take the chance.
“You mentioned you don’t remember your father. Do you know anything at all? Where he is maybe?”
She holds my gaze in an unspoken question and then pulls her lips to a thin seam. “He’s not an option.”
Great. “That’s not why I asked. I mean I would like to help you figure—”
“You like to fix things, don’t you,” she interrupts. “People?”
I never thought of it that way before. “I suppose I am a problem-solver…but does that mean I can’t also care?”
She reaches over and places her hand on my forearm as it rests on the table. “Of course not.” Her eyes followed her hand but when they return to mine, they darken. I notice her chest rise as she takes in a deep breath. “I know you’re a good man, Mason.”
Damn, I almost wish she wouldn’t say my name. And all it takes is the slight brush of her fingers across my skin and my pulse is racing. Good man? I’m not feeling good at this moment. Finally, my sense returns, and I pull my gaze from hers, abruptly stand from the table. “More wine?”
“Oh, uh, sure.”
I grab the bottle from the counter and fill us both only halfway. The last thing I need from either of us is the potential to make bad decisions.
“When my mother got pregnant with me, my dad brought her to the US so I could be born here. My mother thought they were getting married but he seemed to travel for work more than anything and one day she just never heard from him again.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been tough for your mom. And for you. Never knowing your dad.”
She shrugs. “My mamá was more than enough. She was an incredible woman.”
“She taught you a lot.” It’s a statement because I just know.
“What about your mom? I saw a picture in the hall of a woman and two boys…”
I nod but don’t answer immediately. It’s strange how my chest tightens after so long—more than twenty years ago. It catches me off g
uard because I sealed those feelings off when she died. I don’t talk about her often—not even to Logan. He and I experienced her death differently. While Dad was keeping him busy since he was younger, I spent most days lying by her side, watching my once vibrant mother wither away.
“You don’t have to talk about it…”
“No, it’s not that. I…” I don’t know what I’m feeling. “My mother died when I was ten.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know or—”
“You couldn’t have. And it was a long time ago. My father remarried and my step-mom was great. But…she died in a car accident, a few years back.”
“My God, that must have been so hard for you, for your whole family.” She moves her hand as if she’s going to reach out to me again, to comfort me, but instead she sets it on the table. The empathy in her gaze is clear, though.
“It’s been tough but the Bridges came together. A big part of that was Logan. He’d been gone from the family, in the army for years. He was injured pretty badly but he fought hard to come back even stronger. And when we needed him, he moved back into the family home to take care of our younger brothers and also our little cousins. Their mother, my aunt, was killed in the accident too.”
“Your family has been through a lot. It’s why I can’t complain about my situation. My mamá always told me when we went through hard times, ‘Someone always has it tougher.’”
“I wish I could have met her.”
Ari smiles and nods, her eyes mist over.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s sweet. Thank you.” She swipes at a wild lock of hair and looks to our empty plates. “Well, I didn’t make a dessert so I hope you’re full.”
“I am. And, I’m doing the dishes, so you can relax.”
She shakes her head and stands. “Thanks, but I’m earning my keep. We’ll do them together.”
I don’t argue because the more time I spend with Ari the more I see, she is a force, one that takes charge. She does what she wants and that scares me; at the same time, there’s something appealing about it. Something different from the way Megan always took charge. With Megan, I fought against her control, but with Ari…she makes me want to hand over the reins. This woman could very well be my downfall if I’m not careful.
Broken Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 2) Page 7