by Marin Thomas
“You’re not a quitter, Antonio. What about financial aid? Have you spoken to your advisor?”
“She said nothing’s available.”
An idea formed in Aaron’s mind. “Have you checked with any of the international companies in L.A. to ask if they have internships?”
Shooting a curious glance across the table, Antonio asked, “What would you know about internships and international companies?”
“If law students do internships with law firms and financial students do internships on Wall Street, then wouldn’t international business students do internships with international companies?”
“Aaron has a point, Antonio. Wouldn’t hurt to ask your advisor about possible internships.”
Shrugging, Antonio mumbled, “Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll check it out.”
Tonight, Aaron would contact his vice president, Steve. Between the two of them, they’d create an internship program at McKade Import-Export. If his instincts were correct, Antonio had a shrewd mind and a competitive spirit. Steve would enjoy teaching the kid the ins and outs of international business.
The plan would work…as long as his brothers didn’t find out and try to put the brakes on. If he could prove that an internship program benefited not only the student but also the company, he might earn the respect he deserved from his family.
Keeping the program a secret from Pop would be tricky. Aaron didn’t want the geezer to get ticked and end Aaron’s construction job. Turning in his hammer and walking away from the chance to get to know the crew boss on a deeper, more personal level was not something Aaron was ready to do.
“I have to go.” Antonio leaned across the table and kissed Jennifer’s cheek. He stood, then held out his hand to Aaron—a fragile truce. “Nice meeting you.”
“Likewise, Antonio.” Aaron watched the young man weave through the tables, stop to speak with a pretty waitress for a second, then walk out the door.
“He reminds me of our mother,” Jennifer commented.
Prompted by the note of exasperation in her voice, Aaron asked, “In what way?”
“We used to tease Mama that she had the patience of the devil, not a saint.”
“Your brother appears to be a smart kid.”
“He is. He graduated in the top ten percent of his high-school class and he’s been a straight-A student all through college.” Shrugging, she added, “I just wish he weren’t so fixated on making money.”
“If you figure it out, explain it to me. My brother Nelson believes the bottom line is one of the Ten Commandments.”
A shrill sound rattled the air. Jennifer answered her cell phone and Aaron’s gut tightened as the blood drained from her face, turning her tan skin milky white. “We’ll have to postpone picking up the supplies from the warehouse,” she insisted, snapping the phone shut.
“What happened?”
“Juan’s son Ricky fell off the playground equipment at school and he and his wife, Maria, are with him at the emergency room. He’s asked me to pick up the boys from school and his daughter from day care.”
“You’ll need help.”
Her eyebrows arched. “What experience do you have taking care of children?”
None. “How difficult could it be to look after a few kids for a couple of hours?” Before she could protest, he tossed enough money on the table to cover their meals and a generous tip, then stood. Palm against the small of Jennifer’s back, he escorted her out of the café.
They stopped by their parked vehicles. “The school’s tucked away in a residential area not far from here. Stay close or you’ll get lost.”
Don’t worry. I’ll be right on your…tail.
WITH AARON’S HELP, Jennifer had picked up the Delafuente children from their school and day care. After assuring the kids that their elder brother would be fine, they’d arrived at Juan’s home. Aaron had used a spare key to enter, then taken the three boys to the kitchen for a snack and she’d rocked a crying Sofia to sleep in the little girl’s bedroom.
Now she hovered in the shadows of the living room, spying on the four males. Fighting a smile, she observed Aaron stare down the mischief makers seated at the kitchen table. Like Juan, his children were bilingual, but more often than not they tended to mix English and Spanish when they spoke.
“Okay, let’s go over names one more time.” Poking a finger in his chest, Aaron said, “Señor Smith.”
José, the most social of the group, grinned and waved from his seat. “Hola, Señor Smith.”
Aaron grinned back and pointed at José. “Hola…”
“Señor José.” The other boys snickered at their brother’s joke.
“Hola, Señor José.” Aaron moved his finger to José’s right. “Hola…”
Luís, otherwise known as the goof-off, covered his mouth with both hands and giggled.
“Hola, Señor Giggles,” Aaron greeted.
The boys broke out in raucous laughter, then Luís insisted, “No, giggles! Luís!”
“Hola, Señor Luís. And who might you be?” Aaron nodded to the next boy.
“Spiderman,” Moses answered with a straight face.
The brothers began arguing in Spanish and calling Moses stupid, dumb head and troublemaker. Luís stood on the seat of his chair and shook his fist at José. José grabbed Luís’s shirtsleeve and tugged. Then Moses, the five-year-old, slipped from his chair and went to the refrigerator. And Aaron stood dumbfounded in the middle of all the chaos.
Jennifer resisted the urge to step in and take charge as Aaron’s words came back to her: How difficult could it be to look after a few kids for a couple of hours? Witnessing his patience with the boys as he floundered as a babysitter turned her insides to mush.
“Okay, guys. Enough fighting.” Aaron pried José’s fingers from his brother’s T-shirt and coaxed Luís to sit down. Meanwhile, Moses had opened the refrigerator and was reaching for the full gallon of milk stowed in the middle shelf of the door.
Oh, sweetie, that’s too heavy. Jennifer held her breath as the little boy attempted to lift the gallon, his pudgy arms shaking with the effort. No. No. No. Put it back…put it back. Noooo! The container slipped from his grasp and landed on the kitchen floor with a thud. The cap popped off and milk spewed across the floor, splattering the table legs, chairs and lower cupboard doors.
Surprised, Aaron and the boys gaped at the river of milk flowing across the blue vinyl.
José whispered a curse word in Spanish.
“What did you say?” Aaron asked.
Oh, no.
“Shit,” José answered in a solemn voice.
She wasn’t sure who was more startled by the answer, Aaron or José’s brothers. Fighting a grin, Aaron scolded, “That’s a very bad word. Don’t say that again, okay?”
“Sí, Señor Smith.”
“C’mon, guys. Help clean up this mess.” He handed each boy a wad of paper towel from the dispenser on the counter, and all four males got on their hands and knees. Instead of wiping up the milk, the boys swirled the liquid around the floor as if creating an art project.
José tossed his bunch of dripping towels into the trash can by the back door. “Mama keeps the mop in here.” He removed it from the pantry and swung the handle around, missing Aaron’s head by half an inch.
“Good idea.” Aaron soaked the mop in the sink.
“Let me.” José grabbed the mop, which was three times the size of the boy, and lifted it out of the sink. He spun off balance, smacking the mop head against the front of Aaron’s jeans.
Like little monkeys, all three boys slapped their hands over their mouths, staring wide-eyed at Aaron, waiting for his reaction. Even Jennifer held her breath as the wetness spread across the front of Aaron’s jeans.
“Sorry, Señor Smith,” José apologized behind his hand.
Motioning to the dark blotch, Aaron commented, “Looks like I peed my pants.”
The boys burst out in giggles and Jennifer swore she heard her heart sigh. Som
eday Aaron would make a wonderful father.
Once everything in the kitchen, including the chairs, had been wiped down, Aaron returned the mop to the pantry. “Okay, everybody in your seats.” The boys scrambled onto the chairs and Aaron opened the fridge. “How about bologna sandwiches for a snack?” Silence. “Ham? Turkey with cheese?” Silence. Pulling the lid off a dish of leftovers, he asked, “This stuff?” More silence. “C’mon guys, what do you eat after school?”
José slid off his chair, dug through the pantry, then handed a box to Aaron.
“SpongeBob fruit snacks?” Aaron tossed each boy a treat. Moses held his up, silently asking for help. After opening the package, Aaron took one of the pieces and popped it in his mouth. “Hey, these are good.” For a few minutes, blissful tranquillity reigned in the kitchen—then Aaron made a huge mistake. “Watch this.” He tossed one of the chews in the air and caught the treat in his mouth. “Pretty good, huh?”
From that point on, fruit chews flew in all directions as the boys scrambled to catch them before they hit the floor. Enchanted by the scene, Jennifer was unaware she had company.
“When did the circus arrive?” Juan whispered near her ear.
Jennifer smiled. “The job required reinforcements. How’s little Ricky, María?”
“He’s fine.” Juan’s wife cuddled the sleeping child on her hip. “A slight concussion and a few bruises.”
Juan nodded toward Aaron. “He juggles better than he pounds nails.”
“At least he’s entertaining and the boys like him.” Lightly, she ran her fingertips over the white bandage across Ricky’s forehead. “I’ll help you put him to bed, María, and you can tell me what else the doctor said.” The two women disappeared down the hallway.
“Hey, guys, check this out.” Aaron threw his fruit chew in the air and spun in a circle before making a dive to catch the treat.
“Not bad,” Juan commented, stepping into the kitchen.
The three fruit chews that had just been tossed into the air after Aaron’s trick landed with a plop, plop, plop on the floor.
“Shi—”
“Hey!” Aaron cut José off, then glanced guiltily at Juan. The father probably thought he’d used the cuss word in front of the boys. “I never used profanity in front of them.”
“Outside. All of you,” Juan ordered.
Shoulders slumped, the three boys headed single file outside. As soon as the door shut behind them, the kids raced across the yard to the swing set, their laughter echoing through the air.
When Aaron turned around, he caught Juan staring at the front of his jeans. “The milk spilled, then the mop…never mind,” Aaron bumbled, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “How did things go at the hospital?”
“Ricky fell off the monkey bars and landed on his head. He’ll be fine.”
“That’s good news.” Aaron glanced at the floor, surprised by the sea of multicolored fruit chews scattered about. “I’ll clean this—”
“No.” Juan’s command froze Aaron in place. “The boys will take care of it later.”
Uncomfortable with Juan’s penetrating gaze, Aaron offered, “Good news that the work on Mrs. Benitos’s house will continue.”
Without comment, Juan retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, then leaned a hip against the sink and narrowed his eyes. “Funny how the money showed up out of nowhere.”
Aaron’s gut twisted. The suspicious glances Juan had leveled at him all last week convinced him that Jennifer’s right-hand man didn’t trust him. Not sure how to respond, Aaron muttered, “I’m ready to return to work.”
“Jennifer hired you back?” The astonished expression on the other man’s face made Aaron want to laugh.
“Before you called, Jennifer and I were on our way to the warehouse to load up the tools and supplies.”
Shifting sideways, Juan faced the window over the kitchen sink. Aaron assumed he was checking on the boys, until he noticed the dark eyes studying him through the reflection in the glass. “What are your plans once the house is finished?”
“Find other work.”
“In the meantime—” Juan drained the water glass, then pivoted “—don’t hurt her.”
No need to ask who the her was.
“An anglo broke her heart once. You break her heart a second time…you answer to me.”
A second time?
The fact that Jennifer had had a lover—had once loved a man—didn’t give Aaron the warm fuzzies. But a big boy acknowledged that these days a woman didn’t reach the age of twenty-eight without having had some sexual experience. And Jennifer wasn’t just any woman. Surely her seductive, sultry looks had attracted her share of admirers over the years. Hell, he was no saint.
A myriad of emotions flooded him. Anger—not at Jennifer for having loved a man, but at the man for having betrayed that love. Which caused a huge ball of worry to form in his gut. He hadn’t even kissed Jennifer, yet he was bothered that some jerk from her past had done her wrong. Or was he more bothered by the possibility that he might do her wrong even though he had the best intentions? “I give you my word, I won’t hurt her.”
“Then we understand each other.” Juan slipped outside to join his sons in the backyard. Before Aaron had a chance to further mull over the warning, Jennifer entered the kitchen. Her pretty brown eyes widened as she took in the mess on the floor.
“The boys are supposed to clean up when they come inside.”
“Do you still have time to go to the warehouse?” she asked.
“Lead the way.”
After a ten-minute drive through neighborhood streets, Aaron parked his truck next to Jennifer’s at loading dock number 13 of a rundown warehouse facility on the outskirts of Santa Angelita. She unlocked the chain and he lifted the heavy metal door. He spotted the power tools in the front of the compartment. Items that had nothing to do with house construction filled the rest of the space—lamps, box springs, mattresses, a microwave, wash machine and dryer. “What’s all this stuff doing here?”
“Donations for Mrs. Benitos. The parishioners at St. Patrick’s Church, where Mrs. Benitos attends mass each week, held a fund-raiser to replace many of the items lost in the fire.” She pointed to a blue afghan wrapped in plastic. “Mrs. Padrón made that.”
Aaron thought back to the moment he’d first learned his grandfather had secured him a job in Santa Angelita. He remembered thinking the community wasn’t a desirable place to live or work. Never would he have imagined that the barrio was filled with so many unselfish and giving people. “Does Mrs. Benitos need anything else?”
“Louisa is checking out garage sales every weekend and picking up dishes, cookware, utensils and linens for her. And I’ve managed to convince a local business to donate a computer and printer so the foster kids can do their school projects.”
With that smile of hers, Aaron assumed Jennifer could coax a person to give up anything. “Then she’s all set?”
“Except for a car. We’re working on that.”
Maybe he could help out with the car. Oh, hell. Might as well just call him Santa Claus. “What tools do you want loaded?”
“Those over there.” She motioned to the saws and drills hanging on pegs along the back wall.
Before he moved in that direction, she clasped his wrist, emotion darkening her brown eyes. Then she rose on her tiptoes, wrapped a hand around his neck and planted a whopper of a kiss on his mouth.
Chapter Six
“You going to stand there and gawk at him all day?”
Jennifer swallowed a gasp at Juan’s whispered question inches from her ear. Scowling, she insisted, “Just making sure Aaron attaches the window boxes correctly to the front of the house.”
Juan’s eyebrows rose an inch up his forehead.
When the crew had reported back to work earlier in the week, they’d voiced their concerns over Aaron’s lack of experience. Skittish after being laid off once, the men had worried that any unbudgeted e
xpenses—costly mistakes Aaron might make—would threaten the project’s funding and land them in the unemployment line again.
Along with the crew, she’d agonized over her hasty decision to rehire Aaron. When she’d walked into Barrio Amigo’s office and had caught him smiling and laughing with Louisa, something inside her had twisted painfully. Jealousy. Until Aaron, no man had ever prompted that emotion in her. Not even the bastard who’d betrayed her and her family.
After the way she’d kissed him in the warehouse, she’d thought he’d at least show a little interest in her. Maybe a look, a smile, a touch. Something to prove the kiss had wowed him the same way it had wowed her. Each day she’d waited…anticipated…Nothing.
Guilt, mixed with embarrassment over her irrational behavior, had prompted her to assign Aaron simple, hard-to-mess-up tasks. Projects he could do by himself with little supervision.
She sensed that Aaron’s pride had taken a blow when she’d separated him from the group. Although he didn’t complain about the work, she’d caught him observing the others with a wistful, wide-eyed-little-boy expression—as if he didn’t understand why he couldn’t go out and play with the other kids. She’d expected him to throw down the hammer and walk off the job, but he’d surprised her and had shown up on time each morning this week.
Motioning toward the group of men sprawled under the lemon tree, Juan asked, “Doesn’t the anglo get a break?”
“He’s a big boy. If he needs to rest, he can.” Today was Saturday, and she didn’t think he’d taken a break all week, except the thirty minutes he stopped to eat lunch during the day—by himself.
“The crew has a bet going.” Juan nudged her elbow. “You want in on it?”
“What kind of bet?”
“Two to one the flower boxes fall off the house when the dirt’s dumped in.”
Aaron struggled to center the long box under the front window and almost dropped it on his foot. The odds were definitely not in his favor. He wasn’t construction savvy on any level—especially in the nail-and-hammer department. Thank goodness the boxes were plastic and not wood. If they fell off the house, they’d flatten the newly planted hostas but would do little damage to anything else. “Count me in.” She snagged Juan’s T-shirt sleeve as he turned to leave. “But I’m betting the boxes don’t fall off.”