Northwest Romantic Comedies: Boxed Set Books 1-6

by Lia London

  “Oh yeah, I hate those things.” He reached over her and tapped Gabi gently on the nose. “Hola, Gabi!”

  Gabi’s chubby hands reached to grab his, and in that moment, he deftly unlatched the last part of the buckle.

  Zaira gaped at Gabi as she leaned forward to climb out. Then her senses reminded her of Antonio’s body pressed close to her in the confined space, his neck mere inches from her face. A moment later, he extracted Gabi from her seat and stood outside the car cradling her in his arms.

  “How did you do that?” asked Zaira, still breathing in the scent of his subtle cologne.

  “Emilio stayed in one like that forever because he was so tiny. I got used to fighting with it.”

  “You did that like a boss.” Zaira admired the way he held Gabi with confidence, and when the toddler fiddled with his top button, she silently willed her daughter to tug hard.

  “I try.” He hefted Gabi a little higher, swiveling her to the side, but her grip on his shirt caused her to twist out of his grasp. In a second, she flipped head over heels, tumbling down.

  Zaira leapt forward out of the car as Antonio crouched to catch Gabi, and the two adults knocked heads. Both rocked backwards on their bums to land on the hard pavement.

  Gabi giggled, safe in Antonio’s arms once again.

  “Caught her!” he gasped with obvious relief.

  Rubbing her scalp, Zaira sighed. “I can’t believe this. Three head bumps in two minutes. This must be some kind of record for me.”

  Antonio reached forward and gently massaged through her hair for the briefest moment. “Yeah, you’ve got some huevos up there. Need an ice pack?”

  “No, I just need to move to a state where nobody knows me.”

  Shifting to stand, Antonio extended a hand to her. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s dark out. No one saw you.”

  “You did.”

  “Blame the car seat.” He hoisted Zaira to her feet, and she stood, breathless, staring up into his warm, friendly face. She glanced down at their joined hands and laughed despite her frustration.

  “I guess holding hands with a movie star should make up for the crappy day I’ve had, huh?”

  Antonio let go. “I’m not a movie star, Zaira.” He gently lowered Gabi to stand beside Zaira. “You had bad day?”

  Zaira didn’t want to talk about it. She lowered her index fingers for Gabi to grip and smiled down at her little girl. Changing the subject, she forgot his celebrity status for a moment and tossed her chin in the direction of his home across the street. “Do you really rent a beach cabin year-round?”

  “I don’t rent. I own it.”

  “You must be loaded. Even in Oregon, coastal properties don’t run cheap.”

  “No. It was a bank repo thing for taxes or something. I got a ridiculously good deal on it. The real estate agent kind of wanted bragging rights for selling it to me, I think, and so I pretty much used up all my winnings from Soap Star to pay for it outright.”

  Zaira lifted Gabi into her arms and held her tight as she considered this. “Really? You’re not rolling in money?”

  “That would be a no.” He shrugged, tucking his thumbs into the loops of his jeans. “But expenses are low for now, so I can get by and put some aside every month for my brothers’ college funds.”

  “That’s amazing.” She sighed and used her hip to swing the car door shut.

  An awkward pause followed, and she wondered if she should turn and go inside, but he’d been so nice to her twice now, it would be rude.

  Gabi, clearly trusting in her mother’s grip, leaned back and reached for Antonio again. He stepped closer to support her head with his hand, and just like that, the three of them came together in a cozy knot.

  “She likes you,” observed Zaira.

  Antonio ruffled Gabi’s hair. “She’s adorable. You can totally see she’s your baby.”

  Zaira’s heart skipped. Was he calling her adorable? No, of course not. Everyone calls babies adorable, and everyone says they resemble a parent. He’d merely uttered a mash-up of two thoughts. No need to get excited.

  “Thanks. I’d better go inside and get her out of the cold.” It was cold, right? Dark November evenings presumably featured cold weather, but Zaira couldn’t feel anything but a cloud of steam that seemed to emanate from any point of her body Antonio had inadvertently touched.

  “Right.” He nodded, taking a step back. “Bad day and all. What happened?”

  “Oh… you know.” She tucked Gabi onto her hip and opened the driver’s door to pull out her purse and the diaper bag. “When you’re new, you get the grunt jobs.”

  “They got you on bedpan duty?”

  Zaira let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “Thankfully, not that. I outrank the ones with that job. I’m an RN, remember?”

  “So, what’s a grunt job for an RN.?”

  “They gave me the shifts no one wants. I got assigned to some outreach thing at an activity center for old people.”

  Antonio grimaced. “You don’t like old people?”

  “Sure, I do. But I hate the hours. It makes for a split shift. Five hours in the morning, a big old break in the middle, and then three hours in the afternoons. I’ve got my Tia Julia and Sofia helping, but there’s no way they can stay until five.” She sniffed, aware suddenly of how whiny she sounded. “I don’t suppose you know any baby sitters?”

  “The boys can help.”

  Zaira squinted at him. “Huh?”

  “Carlos and Emilio. You saw how great they were with Gabi the other night. They could help. They’re usually home by about 2:30. Can your sitters stay that long?”

  Zaira felt a lift of hope followed by a crash of disappointment. “But I can’t afford to pay them much. That’s part of the problem. My family is willing to work cheap, but I couldn’t ask that of the boys.”

  “I thought nurses got paid pretty well.”

  “They do. But I’ve got college debt and medical expenses left over from some complications when Gabi was born.” She sighed, not mentioning the credit card debt Mateo had racked up in her name before ditching her. “I’ve got another tight year or two before I can really feel the size of the paycheck.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, this outreach assignment is kind of messing everything up schedule-wise.”

  “The boys can do it, seriously. They’ve both babysat before, and they’re really good with little kids. It’s just a few hours, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Y-yes, but … how are they going to feel about you volunteering them?”

  “When soccer season comes along, we’ll have to figure something else out, but for now, I’d feel better if they took on a responsibility that kept them out of trouble until I get home from work.”

  “Seriously?” She realized she had no idea what work he did now. Was he still an actor? They had only talked about the show at Mo’s.

  The corner of his mouth slid up in a sweet, shy smile. “We’re neighbors, right?”

  Zaira grinned. “Yes, neighbor.” She hesitated. “They can change a poopy diaper?”

  Antonio wrinkled his nose. “They don’t love it, but they know how.”

  “Well, you ask them. I want to make sure they’re okay with it.”

  “Wednesday through Saturday, right?”

  Zaira nodded. “How did you know?”

  “I’ll ask them.” Antonio’s hand went to her hair, and he caressed the top of her head gently. “Can you make it inside without hurting yourself?”

  Zaira managed to keep herself from drooling. “Oh yeah, I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t trip if she floated a few inches above the ground, right?

  Sealing the deal for Gabi’s child care proved easier than expected once Zaira promised to cook something special for the boys every day they worked. However, needles of guilt prickled Antonio’s gut every time he thought about how upset she was with getting the hours at La Casa. When she found out he was behind hiring her for the shift, would
she resent him? Would she think he was angling for cash for his brothers?

  To mitigate his feelings, he decided to figure out if she made a good fit for La Casa. If she proved to be terrible, he could always request someone else, right?

  Except he doubted she was terrible.

  Sneaking down the hall to the room marked Clinica, he angled himself outside the door to listen.

  Patricia’s voice rattled through with her usual humor, despite a hacking cough. The conversation, all in Spanish, warmed his heart. Zaira took Patricia’s vitals and listened to her symptoms, showing patience when the abuela went off on a tangent about the merits of handmade tortillas versus store-bought. As an RN, she’d have to consult with a doctor at the hospital for any prescriptions, but Zaira put Patricia at ease. As the appointment drew to an end, Patricia veered the conversation off topic again.

  “Will I get the medicine from you or from my boyfriend?”

  “Who’s that?” Zaira’s face twisted with amusement.

  “He works here,” explained Patricia.

  Antonio slapped his forehead at Patricia’s old joke, and he could hear a ripple of soft laughter from Zaira.

  “Your boyfriend? He must be very handsome, then.”

  “He is! See for yourself. He’s right there waiting to hold my hand!”

  Suddenly, Patricia’s mischievous smile appeared through the crack joined a moment later by Zaira’s dark, inquisitive face.

  Panicked, Antonio spun to retreat down the hall.

  “Is that—Antonio?”

  He froze, unable to turn around and face Zaira. A moment later, Patricia shuffled to his elbow. “Hola, mi guapito. Gusto verle.”

  Antonio leaned his back against the wall and forced a smile. “Igualmente, Patricia.”

  She took his hand and squeezed it. “I like the new nurse you hired,” she whispered in Spanish. “I give you permission to ask her on a date. I will try not to be jealous.” She winked at him, and heat rose up his neck.

  “Gracias, abuela.” What else could he say?

  Patricia ambled down the hall.

  Zaira folded her arms over her stethoscope. “You work here?”

  “I … uh.” Why couldn’t he make eye contact again? Probably because she could shoot lasers from her eyes. He felt like a naughty boy caught vandalizing someone’s property.

  “How did you forget to mention that when we were making all those arrangements for Gabi?”

  “I … uh.”

  She pursed her lips. “Did you hurt yourself eavesdropping out here?”

  “Huh? Oh. I … uh.”

  “Wow, you’re not so great without a script, are you?”

  “Hey.” He straightened, brows furrowed and gaze intense. “I’m sorry. You were so upset about the inconvenience that I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “Seriously?”

  He flapped his arms weakly. “I…really needed a bilingual nurse out here.”

  “You’re the boss?”

  “Just the Program Director, but health care falls under that, and…kind of anything that deals with the public.” He exhaled a stream of air before joining her at the door, his hands gripping the decorative molding above. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. You don’t have to cook for us. I promise it wasn’t a trick to—”

  “I wasn’t even thinking about the food, but yeah. That’s a good deal for you, too.” Her eyes traced him from head to toe, and her face settled into a scowl. “Are you pulling one of your sexy Soap Star poses on me? Because I’m not falling for—”

  He flopped forward a step, letting go of the door jamb. “What? No. I …”

  Zaira’s gaze flitted past him. “My next patient is knocking. Unless you plan to be the door, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  “Right.” Antonio backed away. Before closing the door, he tucked his head inside with a desperate plea. “I really need you here.”

  Something in her countenance softened. “And I need the hours.” She brandished her stethoscope at him. “But this conversation is not over yet, Mr. Seneca.”

  “Claro, doctora,” he said, bowing out.

  He felt like a child trapped in a puddle of honey. Sure, it was sweet, but it was also a sticky, big mess, and the bugs would soon come and make it worse. Flinching at the thought, he wondered how bad Zaira might sting him.

  “When does he get back?” Sofia stood at the front door with her head hanging through the crack. “I thought you said he worked with you. Isn’t he coming home soon?”

  Zaira growled and slid the pan of enchiladas onto the Formica-topped kitchen table. “He’s probably skulking around some nightclub picking up stupid women and seducing them.”

  Sofia bounced on her toes. “Lucky women.”

  “Cierra la puerta!” ordered Zaira. “It’s cold in here.”

  Sofia closed the door obediently and gave Zaira a meaningful frown. “Tell me about it.” She gestured at the food. “Why so much?”

  “It’s how I’m supposedly paying his brothers for babysitting Gabi.”

  “Really? That’s awesome! He’ll find out what a great cocinera you are, and then he’ll give you his heart and his stomach.”

  “I’d rather have his head on a platter.” Zaira slammed two plastic tumblers down, spilling apple juice from one.

  “Chica, what is your problem?” Sofia scraped back a chair and sat down with her elbows on the table. “What did he do to you besides get you a job?”

  “I already had a job!” Zaira punctuated her sentence with her hands in the air. “All my hours were going to fall when you or Tia Julia were available to help me, but now…” She sagged into the chair opposite Sofia.

  “And here I am. We’ll figure it out, girl. And in the meantime, you get full-time hours, you get a lunch break long enough to eat more than a microwave cup of noodles, and you get to gawk at Antonio Seneca up close and personal at home and at work. What are you complaining about?”

  Zaira pouted. “I feel like he tricked me.”

  Sofia tested the temperature of the enchilada pan with her fingertip before snagging some of the melted cheese from on top. “Was there someone else who could do it?”

  “Shut up.” Zaira ground the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. Why did her cousin have to be so infuriatingly rational for once? “No. Not who spoke Spanish.”

  “Well then, it had to be you, didn’t it? You find such stupid stuff to moan about when a heavenly body lives across the street.” Sofia drummed the table with her fists. “Speaking of which, aren’t we supposed to take this food over and exchange it for Gabi?”

  “I’m telling you, Sofia, this isn’t going to work.” She stood back up and found two plastic disposable plates from the cupboard. “He’s not what you think he is.”

  “What are you talking about? I met him, too, remember? We all ate dinner at Mo’s.” Sofia wagged a finger at Zaira. “Three plates, girl.”

  Zaira frowned. “I’m not bringing him any food. He didn’t do any work.”

  “Consider it his commission for hooking you up with cheap babysitting.”

  “He probably wants to hook up, all right,” muttered Zaira, resentfully snatching down another plate. “He’s got two settings, Sofia. Crash and Charm. He’s either tripping over people and banging around, or he’s Mr. Smooth.”

  “Hey, if Mr. Smooth trips and lands in my lap, I am not going to fuss about it.” Sofia shook her head and signaled for Zaira to pass her a spatula. “Come on, I have to help you because there are three plates, and you only have two hands.”

  “You can carry his plate. Try not to drool on it, almost-married woman.”

  “He’s nice.” Sofia sliced an enormous square of enchiladas and scooped it onto one of the plates.

  “He’s probably a player, like his character on the show, chasing after all the beautiful women.”

  “We can only hope he thinks you’re beautiful, huh?” scoffed Sofia.

  “You don’t have to give
him half the pan, Sofia,” snapped Zaira. “What are we supposed to eat?”

  “You can eat your stupid pride, that’s what. You have a good job, cheap childcare, and the best-looking neighbor on the planet. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and go be nice to this man.”

  Chapter 4 ~ Messes

  Antonio groaned at the mess in his living room. “Did you guys have to let her bring all her toys over here? This place is crazy messy.”

  “We’ve got it,” said Carlos, bouncing a giggling Gabi on his knee while Emilio pretended to fly a fuzzy pink hippo in the air around her.

  The doorbell sounded, startling tension into Antonio’s shoulders. “That’s probably her, guys. You need to answer the door.” He feared facing Zaira again. Any time their paths had crossed at La Casa, she’d given him death glares, so he’d hidden in the office as much as possible.

  “Can’t you see I’m busy?” asked Carlos.

  The bell rang again.

  “Carlos, Emi, come on. Answer the door!”

  “I’m cleaning up the mess,” said Emilio, kicking the toys into a small pile by the TV. “You get it.”

  “This is not going to work,” grumbled Antonio. “You’ll have to do this at her house from now on.”

  He swung the door open and blinked in surprise. “Oh. Hi. Silvia, right?”

  “Sofia.” Zaira’s perky cousin held up a plate full of savory smelling food. “And this is for you.”

  “Oh my gosh, my mouth is actually watering,” he said, all grouchiness gone. He took the plate from her hands with a smile. “Thanks so much. It smells incredible.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes and stepped aside. “Thank Zaira. She’s the chef.”

  Zaira stood on his stoop wearing the same green scrubs she’d worn at La Casa, only now she held a plate of food in each hand instead of a clipboard. Her unreadable expression filled him with anxiety. How was one supposed to address a goddess with so much talent?

  “Oh wow, we don’t need that much!”

  “Sure, you do,” said Sofia. “You’re big, growing boys.” She spread her arms wide towards Gabi. “Gabriela! Look who’s here!”