Aaron Under Construction

by Marin Thomas

  Studying his plate, he asked, “How do you eat the meat? Suck it out through the end?”

  More laughter followed, and this time Aaron joined in, not at all upset his cultural faux pas provided the evening entertainment.

  “You peel the husk off and—” Antonio demonstrated with his tamale “—use your fork to eat the pork inside.”

  All eyes centered on him as he followed Antonio’s example. Mouth watering, he closed his eyes and chewed. Slowly. Savoring the rich meat flavor. “Incredible.” Had he realized Mexican cuisine tasted this delicious, he’d have made it a point to eat at a Mexican restaurant once in a while instead of the usual steak houses he frequented.

  For several minutes, conversation centered on food—American favorites and Mexican specialties. Then with one question Delia threw the gathering into chaos. “I’ve decided I’m not going to college. I signed up for beauty school yesterday.”

  The clanking of silverware ceased and all eyes settled on the youngest Alvarado. Delia straightened her shoulders and glowered at each family member.

  Antonio broke the silence. “I told you she’d rather wash someone’s dirty hair than go to college.” At the mischievous expression on the young man’s face, Aaron coughed into his napkin and hid a smile.

  Wrinkling her nose, Delia boasted, “One day I’m going to be a hairstylist in Hollywood. I’ll make mucho dinero fixing movie stars’ hair.”

  Mr. Alvarado resumed eating, focusing on his plate as if he had no interest in the discussion. Aaron wasn’t fooled. The patriarch of the family carefully weighed every word of the conversation.

  “I thought you were going to be a teacher, Delia,” Jennifer remarked in a mild tone—contrary to the grip she had on her fork. “That’s what you told Mama you wanted to do when you were little.”

  “I changed my mind. Besides, Mama’s not here anymore. I like working with kids, but I can make more money styling hair.”

  Aaron was tempted to suggest Delia start with the hair-cutting program, then use that skill to pay for her continuing education. She could style hair during summer vacations, when many teachers worked a second job. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. What right did he have to interfere in the Alvarado family business?

  “Go ahead. I can see you have an opinion,” Jennifer insisted, eyes flashing.

  For whatever reason, Aaron sensed it was very important to Jennifer that both her sister and brother obtain college degrees. Treading lightly, he suggested, “Delia could use her hair-cutting skills to put herself through college when she’s ready to enroll.”

  “¡Dios! That makes perfect sense. See, Jen? Now you won’t have to pay for my college. If I decide to go, I pay my own way.”

  “No.” Jennifer frowned first at her sister, then at Aaron.

  Expecting Senõr Alvarado to settle the dispute, Aaron was surprised when he continued eating as if the volatile conversation held little importance.

  Antonio added his two cents. “Delia’s got a point, Jen. Don’t waste your money on college if she doesn’t want to go.”

  “Right now you think you don’t want to go to school, Delia, but once you begin classes you’ll make new friends.”

  “I have friends. I don’t need anymore.”

  “Friends who are going nowhere with their lives—”

  “If you’re so high on college, then why don’t you go, big sister?” Delia tossed her napkin on the table and stormed from the room.

  Mr. Alvarado finally glanced up from his plate. “Mama say if a family no fight, a family no love.”

  Jennifer’s expression remained troubled as she stared at the doorway through which her sister had fled.

  “What’s for dessert, daughter?”

  “Chocolate cake,” she answered automatically.

  Mr. Alvarado placed his napkin on the table, then pushed his chair back. “I watch TV and wait for my cake.” He left the room, with Antonio trailing in his wake.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness a family argument, Aaron.”

  “No big deal. My brothers and I have had our share of disputes at the dinner table.” As a matter of fact, Aaron had been relieved Delia’s announcement had created enough turmoil that Mr. Alvarado hadn’t had a chance to ask him any probing questions.

  “After I clear this mess, we’ll have our dessert on the front porch. In peace and quiet.”

  “I’ll help with the dishes.” He began collecting plates but stopped when he noticed that Jennifer remained seated. “What?”

  “I’m not used to a man helping in the kitchen. It’s always been women’s work in our home.”

  He couldn’t very well confess he didn’t know much about food preparation or storage because he’d grown up with a housekeeper, but he did know how to rinse dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He leaned over and murmured, “The sooner we finish in the kitchen, the sooner I get you all alone on the porch.”

  Her breath hitched. “And why would you want me all alone?”

  He nuzzled her ear. “To kiss you.”

  “Don’t think you’ll get away with much more than that under my father’s roof.” Her words teased, but the heat in her eyes sent a challenge he couldn’t back down from.

  In a short time, the dinner dishes were cleared from the table and the leftover food stored in the refrigerator. Wearing a frilly pink apron, Aaron stood at the kitchen sink, washing pots and pans while Jennifer loaded the dishwasher.

  “You and your family don’t eat like this all the time, do you?” For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer.

  “When Mama was alive, she’d cook a huge meal every night. She insisted that Papa deserved a hearty meal after a long day’s work.”

  He remained quiet, sensing Jennifer had more to say.

  “After she died, I made supper every night, but my cooking wasn’t as good as Mama’s.” Her chest shuddered as she drew in a deep breath. “Papa just picked at his plate.”

  Aaron dried his hands on the apron, then gathered Jennifer in his arms. “It must have been hard on all of you. I’m sure your father appreciated your efforts.”

  She struggled to free herself from his embrace, as if she didn’t believe she deserved to be consoled or hugged or pampered. He let her go.

  “Now we eat a large meal on Sundays, when we can all be together,” she explained. “During the week we eat leftovers or grab our own dinner on the way home from work or classes.”

  “Well, I’m so stuffed from supper that talking about food is making me green around the gills.” His comment put the sparkle back in her eyes. Exactly what he’d intended.

  “Take your father his cake, then meet me on the porch.”

  “Bossy, bossy,” she taunted.

  “Only when I want something badly.”

  “Like what?”

  He grinned. “You.”

  Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, she purred, “In your dreams, buddy.”

  Chapter Eight

  “When I was a little girl, I would sit on the porch at night with my mother and wish upon the stars.” Jennifer set her empty dessert plate on the table between the rockers she and Aaron occupied.

  “What did you wish for? A power tool set?” He grinned.

  Such a tease. The more time she spent with Aaron, the more she enjoyed his playful side. She considered herself a serious person living a serious life. Until Aaron, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed laughing.

  Yes, she was curious to learn what drove him to construction work, what his previous job had been before signing on with her crew, even his real name. But answers to those questions would make their relationship more real than fantasy. Real wasn’t in the picture for Jennifer. Fantasy…maybe. “I wished for a strong, handsome prince to sweep me off my feet.”

  A snort—piglike—mocked her. “Did your prince give you a circular saw instead of a flower bouquet?”

  “As a matter of fact he gave me a kiss on our first date.”

  When
his gaze dropped to her mouth, the laughter faded from his blue eyes. “How did my kiss in the warehouse compare with his?”

  “Your kiss? You mean my kiss in the warehouse.” All their kissing talk made breathing difficult.

  Leaning over the arm of the rocker, Aaron snagged a strand of her hair. “Okay. You get the warehouse kiss.” Her hair slid through his fingers, rippling across the top of her sundress. His chocolate-cake-scented breath caressed her neck. “I’m laying claim to the porch kiss.”

  The porch kiss? Laughter once again bubbled in her throat. “You’re so romantic.” From a purely feminine standpoint, Jennifer was positive a man with Aaron’s appeal caught the attention of a variety of females. “How do women resist you?”

  Eyes intent on her mouth, he curled his hand around her neck, nudging her jaw with his thumb until she tilted her head. “They don’t.” His lips grazed hers. The kiss was different from the warehouse kiss, yet oddly familiar. Eyes open, she watched him seduce her, his brown lashes sweeping down. Then he sucked the edge of her lower lip into his mouth and bit gently. Her strength waned and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to be drawn into the magical moment.

  A vulnerability she hadn’t felt in years grabbed her heart, shattering the urge to hold a part of herself from Aaron. For once, she wanted to feel and not worry about the consequences. Not analyze, dissect or consider the right or wrong of the moment. Her heart raced. Her skin shivered and tingled. She refused to contemplate why Aaron had landed unexpectedly in her life. Why he’d awakened her body, stirred her soul and reminded her that she was a woman with desires.

  “Kiss me back,” he mumbled against her mouth.

  Her lashes flew up and she drowned in a pool of blue.

  “I know you feel it, too.”

  No call to identify the it he referred to. For better or worse, they’d connected on a deeper level than lust. “You scare me, Aaron.”

  He jerked, expression dark with confusion and hurt.

  “No.” Gripping a handful of his shirt, she tugged. “Not that way. Never that way.” This time she gave in and kissed him. All out—wet, lots of tongue. Until he moaned and his fingers bit into her arms.

  “Glad I’m sitting down. You knock a guy off balance.” He trailed a finger across her moist lips.

  Tears burned her eyes at the tender gesture. Not now, darn it.

  “What’s wrong, Jenny? Why do I scare you?”

  Dabbing at the corner of her eye, she insisted, “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  “My kisses have never made a woman cry.”

  “Braggart.” She punched his shoulder playfully.

  He lifted her knuckles to his lips and kissed each one. “I want you, Jenny.”

  Ah, Aaron. “I want you, too.”

  “I sense a but coming.”

  Unsure how to express the turmoil inside her, she drew away and focused on the houses across the street. As if he sensed she needed a moment to think, Aaron stood and crossed the porch to lean against the rail. She glanced his way. “I can admit that I’m attracted to you.”

  “But you wish you weren’t?”

  He understands you better than you understand yourself.

  “Is it because I haven’t talked about my past?”

  “No.” In truth, Jennifer didn’t care who the real Aaron was. Where he came from or where he was headed. There was an elemental feeling of safety in not learning the truth. Pretending their relationship was more fantasy than reality made her heart less susceptible, easier to protect.

  How she wished her turmoil were as simple as not knowing who Aaron really was or why he’d signed on to her crew. But her hesitation had to do with her own demons and not his. Yes, she was dying to make love to him. To feel that close connection with another human being. To give herself over to his caring hands and feel cherished if only for one night. But guilt waged an ugly battle within her.

  Guilt at accepting his generous gift, all the while believing she’d never allow their relationship to go beyond the physical. She’d never hand him her heart. She’d never give him forever. And the biggest lump of guilt—she planned to keep her intentions a secret. If she told him the truth, she feared he’d change his mind about making love to her. As wrong as it might be, she intended to grab this moment of happiness for herself, hoping the memories would last a lifetime. He could keep his secrets and she’d keep hers.

  Aaron must have grown tired of her silence, because he asked, “Is this about your father? Doesn’t he approve of me…of us?”

  “No, this has nothing to do with my father.”

  “Does it have to do with my ethnicity? Are you unsure about us because I’m an Anglo?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does it mean—exactly?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Jennifer got the feeling he was trying to protect himself from her words.

  Talking about the past hurt; even after nine years, the pain remained—some days as sharp and clear as the day her mother and brother had died.

  A nerve along his jaw pulsed. “I’m not like him.”

  “Who?” She’d lost track of the conversation.

  “The Anglo from your past. The one Juan mentioned you’d been involved with. I won’t hurt you the way he did.”

  I believe you. “Michael was an impostor.” Aaron’s body stiffened, confirming her belief that Smith wasn’t his real name.

  “Who was he?”

  “A drug dealer moonlighting as an insurance salesman.”

  “I’m not a drug dealer, Jennifer.”

  “I never assumed you were.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “Help me to understand. What did he do to you? To your family?”

  Throat swelling, she had to glance away from the sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy she didn’t deserve.

  One moment he was across the porch; the next he was crouching in front of her, holding her hands. “Hey, I didn’t mean to push.”

  Fearing she’d cave in to the guilt nagging at her, she clasped his face between her hands and pleaded, “Take me to your place, Aaron.”

  He searched her eyes for answers. Answers she was determined to conceal.

  “Maybe now isn’t the right time,” he insisted.

  She unfolded herself from the chair and stood, forcing him to his feet. If he didn’t take her home with him tonight…by morning, the guilt would claim victory and never allow this moment to happen. “Now is the perfect time.”

  His mouth sought hers. With his lips, he made promises she intended to see he kept. Tongues dueled and teeth nipped. Sighs mingled.

  “The neighbors are watching.”

  Jennifer popped away from Aaron and discreetly wiped the moisture from her mouth before facing her sister through the screen door. “A little privacy would be appreciated.”

  “Then get a motel room.” Delia stepped out of the house and descended the front steps. “I’m driving over to Angel’s. Antonio’s on the computer and Papa’s asleep in his chair.”

  When Delia turned the corner at the end of the block, Jennifer went inside the house, retrieved her purse, told her brother she and Aaron were going out for a while, then returned to the porch. She stood on the welcome mat, waiting for a sign that Aaron hadn’t changed his mind.

  The blue color of his eyes alternated between deep indigo and robin’s-egg blue. After an agonizingly long minute, he held out his hand.

  IF AARON THOUGHT he’d been nervous when he’d arrived at Jennifer’s home for dinner, the jitters in his stomach then were nothing compared with the roller coaster zipping through his gut now. As he guided the truck through downtown L.A., he decided that tonight he’d come clean with Jennifer. Tell her everything. Confess who he really was. But with each passing block he noticed she became more and more tense, as if this part of L.A. made her uncomfortable. Hand gripping the armrest, her nails bit into the leather. Aaron found the vulnerable side of this self-assured woman fascinating, yet intimidating as hell.

  Her ner
vousness had him second-guessing his motives. Besides lust, what did he really feel for Jennifer? Was it love? If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that he didn’t know for sure. “Want to stop for a coffee?” he asked, spotting a Starbucks up the street. Maybe they should slow down and consider the consequences before taking this next step together.

  “No, thanks.”

  Was that a wobble he’d heard in her voice? What had he been thinking to bring her here? She wasn’t an uptown girl. If the Bunker Hill district made her this uncomfortable, then his apartment would make her miserable. Nope. This wasn’t going to work.

  At the next light, he turned left and headed away from the area. He had no idea where to go. He didn’t care. Jennifer was all that mattered. After several minutes the tension trickled out of her body. She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, confirming what he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge: her comfort zone was limited to the barrio.

  How could a person live her whole life in the L.A. basin and not see the sights? Or shop on Rodeo Drive, tour Beverly Hills, even attend a Lakers basketball game? He wanted to ask if she’d always been a homebody or if something in her past had made her leery of the world outside her own backyard. He remained quiet, afraid she’d take offense at the questions.

  Now more than ever, Aaron was aware of the differences in their upbringings and the diversity of the worlds they lived in. He didn’t have a crystal ball. Knew not what the future, let alone tomorrow, held for him and Jennifer. But something deep inside him rebelled at the thought that they only had tonight.

  Three miles east of his apartment, he guided the truck through side streets littered with middle-of-the-road motels. Spotting a popular chain, he swung into the lot and shifted the truck into park. Silence screamed through the cab as they stared at the flashing Vacancy sign.

  Making love to Jennifer in a motel, when he had 1200-thread-count sheets, a suede comforter and a walk-in shower with two spray heads waiting at his apartment, made no sense.

  “You’re living in a motel?” she asked.

  His mind scrambled to make up an explanation. “No.”

  “I see.” Her icy tone sent the car’s interior temperature plummeting thirty degrees. She pretended interest in the soda machine standing outside the motel office. “Is where you live a big secret?”