by Carla Luna
“Good night, Rafael.”
Her heart still pounding, she ended the call. It didn’t matter if she wanted him.
He was off-limits. End of story.
Chapter 14
Two Weeks Until the Wedding
Rafael yawned as he filled his insulated tumbler with coffee. He should have known better than to go out drinking with the restaurant crew on a Friday night. Especially when he had to be up by six forty-five the next morning. When his alarm went off at six, he was tempted to hit the snooze button. But he couldn’t risk showing up late for his Saturday outing with Mamá.
He grabbed a couple of canvas tote bags, threw on a fleece, and headed out to his car. The morning air held a definite chill, making him return for a pair of gloves and a knit cap. He wouldn’t need them once the sun came out, but he didn’t want a lecture about not dressing warmly enough for the weather.
Saturday mornings with Mamá were a tradition he and his brothers had started three years ago to spend time with her away from the rest of the family. They each took turns and picked an early morning activity they could squeeze in before they had to be at the restaurant. Martin had it easy, since all he had to do was bring his two boys over and let Mamá spoil them. Tony and his wife took her out for breakfast. Rafael’s default was a trip to the farmers market. Though they occasionally went into San Diego to visit the impressive market in Little Italy, they usually opted for the Poway Farmers Market, a twenty-minute drive away.
Mamá still lived in the family home, about a mile from Rafael’s apartment. When he pulled up, she was sitting on the front porch with her familiar blue “granny cart” at her side. Peeking out from under her navy fleece was a bright red Christmas sweater, embroidered with a smiling Santa head. A gift from Araceli, crafted during her embroidered sweatshirt phase.
She stood to hug Rafael, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Despite her diminutive size, she was a bundle of energy. For years, she’d worked alongside them in the restaurant until her arthritis had proved too debilitating. But she’d turned her attention toward the creation of a cookbook encompassing thirty years of family recipes. Though she understood the importance of tradition, she was also the one who responded the most enthusiastically to her youngest son’s attempt to try new dishes.
“Good morning, Má.” He gestured to the wire-frame reindeer that adorned the front lawn. “Did Tony put those up?”
“Yesterday morning. And the lights. They look good, no?”
“They look great. I’ll have to come by at night so I can see everything all lit up.” Thank God Tony had taken charge of her Christmas decorations. Rafael didn’t have the patience. “You ready to go?”
She nodded, and he walked her to the car, setting her cart in the trunk. After changing the radio to an all-Christmas station, she settled in, humming along to various carols. Rafael glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, curious as to why she wasn’t asking him about his love life. She must be waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Though he usually handled her questions with a dose of humor, today he wasn’t in the mood. The last thing he wanted to think about was his love life. Or lack thereof. He was still smarting from Victoria’s brush-off three nights ago. He knew he’d taken a risk when he texted her after hours. But he’d been mulling over their last conversation, and he was worried he’d pushed her too far. He wanted her to understand how seriously he was taking the job.
But then his stupid hormones had kicked in. Instead of leaving well enough alone, he’d crossed the line by flirting with her. Then she’d upped the ante by calling him and suggesting he undress her verbally. Which was the best offer he’d had in months.
Until she shut him down cold.
He had no idea what had prompted her abrupt mood swing, though he suspected it had something to do with her father. But as frustrating as her change in tone was, it was also a wake-up call.
Get your head in the game. Don’t screw this up because you’re thinking with your dick.
He pulled into a prime parking spot near the north end of the market. After taking a last sip of coffee, he followed Mamá, who made a beeline for the vendors, pulling her cart behind her. Rafael generally let her set the pace, but he stopped when they passed the French bakery stall. “How about a treat?”
She patted her stomach. “I shouldn’t, but you know I can’t resist.”
He ordered a couple of almond croissants. The girl behind the stall favored him with a flirtatious smile as she bagged up their pastries. Rather than chat her up, he merely gave her a friendly nod. As they walked away, his mom nudged him. “She was pretty, no?”
“She was.” He wrapped one of the croissants in a napkin and handed it to her.
For a moment, he thought he’d dodged a bullet as she munched on the croissant. But as soon as she finished it and tossed the napkin in a trash bin, she started up again. “But you’re not interested? Have you found someone new? Someone you haven’t told me about?”
“Not since the last time I saw you.” Which, for the record, had been five days ago, when he stopped by to trim the bushes in her backyard.
She gave him another nudge. Harder, this time. “Are you taking a tone with me?” She headed toward the Freshly Farms stall, purveyors of the finest eggs in the market.
Guilt washed over him as he trailed after her. “Sorry. But there’s no one. The minute there is, I’ll let you know.”
She let out one of those long sighs that made him flinch. “I want you to be happy, mijo. Like your brothers. Find a nice girl and start a family.”
He wasn’t averse to the thought. But before he could make that kind of commitment, he needed to meet the right woman. Someone who loved him for exactly who he was and had made her own share of mistakes so that she’d understand his imperfections.
Like Victoria.
No. She might have opened up to him, but she’d never consider a future with him. Not when they were from such vastly different worlds.
“After the holidays, maybe I’ll check out one of those dating apps,” he said.
He’d never needed one before. Finding hookups had always been easy. Finding a woman to love and trust? Not so easy.
Mamá frowned. “I don’t trust those apps. Too many people pretend to be someone they’re not. Like that show—Catfishing.”
“It’s Catfish, Má, and that’s not going to happen.”
Note to self—tell Araceli to stop watching reality shows with Mamá.
Mamá greeted the Freshly Farms girl, then made a show of looking through the egg cartons, one by one. “Mmm-hmmm. So, tell me, what am I hearing about this Victoria Blackwood?”
“What?” Rafael choked on his croissant, then spent a minute clearing his throat. “She’s…ah…she’s not. I’m not…” Damn it. He was mucking this up. Mamá’s Spidey senses would start tingling any minute. “She and I aren’t dating. She’s the event coordinator at Blackwood Cellars. I’m working with her on the Cavendish-Macalister wedding.”
“I know who she is. But I’m wondering what’s up. Martin called me.”
Of course he did.
She gave Rafael a pointed stare. “He’s worried you’re trying too hard to impress her. Taking on a wedding of this size instead of letting Tony handle it. Is that true?”
He took out a five and paid for the eggs, which he carefully placed in a woven Trader Joe’s bag. Why she insisted on going to the egg vendor first was a mystery to him. And a pain, since he had to carry the eggs around for the entire trip. The one time she’d put them in her cart, he’d forgotten about them and accidentally squashed them with a ten-pound bag of Valencia oranges.
“I’m trying to show Martin I can handle more responsibility,” he said. “That’s why I don’t want Tony to take over. It has nothing to do with Victoria.”
“So you say, but…” She left the sentence hanging as they wandered over to her favorite citrus vendor.
Rafael waited patiently as she manhandled a dozen grapefrui
t in her search to find the right one. “But what?”
“But I suspect you wouldn’t have insisted on taking charge of this wedding if Miss Victoria Blackwood wasn’t involved. I’ve seen what she looks like.” She gave him a smug smile. “I googled her.”
Jesus. Between Araceli and his mom, the Blackwood family was getting a full-on investigation.
“Her family is very wealthy,” Mamá continued. “Her house is worth—”
“Two point nine million. I know. Araceli looked it up. But that’s not why I like her.”
Shit. Had he just said that? Why didn’t he staple his lips shut and save himself the trouble?
Her eyes lit up. But she waited until she’d purchased two grapefruit, along with a bag of mandarin oranges, before she spoke. “I knew it. I sensed something was up. That you were pining.”
He’d been more than pining on Wednesday night, when he’d had to relieve his frustrations in the shower, but he wasn’t about to reveal that to his mom. He let out a sigh of defeat. “You’re right. I’ve been pining over her, but please don’t tell Martin or Tony.”
She turned toward him, a serious expression on her face. “You shouldn’t be keeping secrets from your brothers.”
He took the grapefruits from her and set them in his other tote bag. The oranges went in the cart. “I know, but this thing with Victoria? It’s one-sided. She doesn’t feel the same way about me. So, it’s not really a problem. I just want a chance to prove myself. I know I’ve screwed up a lot in the past.”
When Mamá didn’t respond right away, he felt another tug of guilt. No doubt she was recalling all his failures, including the incident with Sandra. He’d put his mother through more trials than Martin and Tony combined.
But then she squeezed his arm. “I have faith in you, mijo. You’ll do a wonderful job at the wedding. And then Victoria will realize what a prize you are.”
One could only hope.
Chapter 15
Thirteen Days Until the Wedding
By Sunday night, Victoria was exhausted. She’d coordinated three events at Blackwood Manor over the weekend, including a sit-down dinner for ninety-five people. But when Araceli invited her to a holiday get-together to work on Missy’s wedding decor, she couldn’t say no. Instead of lounging on the couch and watching a Hallmark movie, she changed into an outfit that seemed appropriately festive—a red cashmere sweater, heels, and a pair of black dress pants—then drove to Araceli’s apartment in Escondido.
As directed, she parked in one of the visitor spots and walked around the perimeter of the block-long complex until she found the right entry gate. The place was well landscaped with neatly trimmed bushes and tall palm trees. Araceli lived on the top floor of a unit facing a large inner courtyard, which held a pool, a hot tub, and several barbecue grills.
Victoria tried to envision what it might feel like to live somewhere like this. To come home to a place completely her own with no one around to scrutinize her every move.
Be serious. You’d never be able to adapt.
She knew she was spoiled. But before Ben had dumped her, she’d never imagined living any other way. Even when she’d moved into his condo, she assumed it was merely a stepping-stone until they purchased their first home together. Not a small, starter house, but a lavish mansion, like the kind they’d both grown up in.
But if she was on her own, she’d have freedom. If she wanted to spend hours engaging in phone sex with a man of her choosing, no one would censure her. Better yet, she could have actual sex without anyone around to judge her.
Stop.
This wasn’t the time to be considering a momentous life change. She had enough on her plate already.
Maybe someday.
She rapped on the door of number 304 and waited. No answer. She tried again, using more force until the door swung open.
Araceli greeted her, wearing a jaunty Santa hat and a bright red apron, covered with streaks of white icing. “You came!” She grabbed Victoria’s arm and ushered her in. “Hey, everyone! This is Victoria Blackwood. The wedding coordinator.”
Victoria stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the holiday decor. Cascading garlands and pinecones were artfully draped over the bookshelves and the kitchen cabinets. Shiny red and green glass baubles hung from the ceiling, along with glittery silver snowflakes. In one corner, an oversize pair of animatronic Christmas elves stood sentry. And the kitchen counters displayed an impressive array of holiday plates, wooden nutcrackers, and ceramic Santas. The delicious aroma of cinnamon and cloves wafted through the room.
In addition to Araceli, six other people filled the tiny apartment, crafting up a storm. As she scanned the group, Victoria instantly felt out of place. Everyone else was dressed so casually that her ensemble seemed ostentatious rather than festive.
Swallowing back her nerves, she held up two wine bottles. “I brought some wine. I hope that’s okay.”
Araceli grinned. “Blackwood Cellars? I love it. That cabernet was perfecto.” She gave a chef’s kiss. “A lot better than the crap Jaime buys.” She motioned for Victoria to set the wine bottles on the counter. “We’ve got some ponche navideño simmering on the stove, but we’ll open these later.”
“Some what?”
“Christmas punch. Kind of like your mulled wine, but with more fruit and stuff.”
“Sounds good.” Victoria wiped her palms on her pants, trying to quell her anxiety. “How can I help?”
Araceli pointed to the kitchen island, which held two of the gingerbread houses. “Luz is making the gingerbread people for the house that’s gonna sit at the head table. But that house, and the one that’s being used as a cardholder, need decorating.” She gestured to a card table across the room, where the other houses stood, awaiting decoration. “My cousins Yesenia and Inez are also on gingerbread duty. And over there on the couch, my sister Nena is working on the calligraphy. Ernesto’s helping with jingle bell duty because that’s all he’s good for.”
Victoria hadn’t texted Rafael to see if he’d be joining the party. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed by his absence. “I’m guessing Rafael and his brothers weren’t up for a night of crafting?”
“They’re still at the restaurant. We’re open until nine on Sundays.” Araceli eyed Victoria’s outfit. “Lemme get you an apron. I don’t want you to mess up that cute red sweater.”
“Thanks. Is there somewhere I can set my purse?”
“Sure. Down the hall, first door on your right. Put it on my bed.”
Victoria made her way down the carpeted hall. Framed photos adorned both walls—posed family photos, candid shots, cat photos, and pictures from Araceli’s wedding. Victoria paused and took in the images of Araceli on her big day. She looked blissfully happy and head over heels in love. A twinge of envy coursed through Victoria. Even when she was engaged to Ben, she’d never felt that strongly about him.
She ventured into the bedroom and nearly tripped when a cat brushed against her ankles. Stepping back, she gaped at what had to be the world’s fattest tabby. When he meowed at her, she reached down and petted his head. From under the bed, a sleek black cat appeared. She took a moment to scratch its chin. She’d always loved cats. But her father had never allowed pets because he thought they were a waste of time and money.
Once she left her purse on the bed, she returned and sought out Araceli, who was standing at the counter, mixing up frosting. “Your cats greeted me when I dropped off my coat. They’re so cute.”
“I don’t know if I’d call Gordo cute. That boy’s on a strict diet. But Mimi’s adorable. I’m also fostering a couple of kittens. They’re in the spare room, aka the nursery-to-be, if Jaime would ever do his job and get me pregnant. Not that we haven’t been trying.”
First Connor, and now Araceli. What was it with everyone discussing their sex life? Then again, maybe Victoria would be less judgmental if she had a sex life.
“Is Jaime here?” she asked.
>
Araceli laughed. “Hell, no. This isn’t his jam. Besides, it’s poker night at his brother’s place, and he hardly ever misses it. I tried going once, but apparently, I have no poker face. Anyway…” She handed Victoria a dark green apron with the words “Santa’s Little Helper” embroidered across the chest. “Are you okay with candy duty? That’s the easiest job.”
“Thanks. I want to do as little damage as possible.”
“You can sit with Luz. Decorating the gingerbread people is detail-oriented, but putting the candy accents on the house is a no-brainer. Just make sure to follow Missy’s sketches. She was very specific about the decorating scheme. And by specific, I mean she spelled stuff out in all caps. She doesn’t want the houses to look tacky.”
“Got it.” Victoria pulled up a stool next to Luz. “Thanks for helping out.”
Luz gave her a warm smile. “Not a problem. I’m Luz Sanchez. Martin’s wife.”
“Nice to meet you. I read about your husband in the Union-Tribune. That was a great interview.”
“I’m sorry he couldn’t cater the wedding himself. He’s cooking a private dinner that night for a family that won his services in a charity auction.”
“It’s fine. Rafael’s doing a great job.” Heat rose in Victoria’s cheeks, making her feel self-conscious. She could talk about Rafael, couldn’t she? After all, he was working for her. Nothing weird about that.
But her expression must have revealed something because Luz cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is he behaving himself? He’s the bad boy of the family.”
“No, he’s been very respectful. A perfect gentleman.”
A snort of laughter drew her attention. She could have sworn it came from Araceli, who was bent over the mixing bowl.
Did she know about Baja?
Oh, God. Did everyone?
That couldn’t be possible. Rafael had said he didn’t want his brothers finding out about their fling.
But maybe he’d told Araceli.