Rush (Hector & Millie) (Seaside Valleria #1)

by Marianne Knightly

  Grandkids?

  Grandkids!

  Why was she thinking about grandkids with Hector?

  Oh, jeez. Her brain must still be messed up if she thought that would happen.

  Though, any kids—or grandkids—of Hector’s would be super cute, she just knew it.

  Pull it together, Amelia!

  She took a deep breath, winced at the pain in her chest, then walked out. She wished she at least had some of her jewelry on; she always felt stronger wearing it.

  No, that wasn’t exactly true. She felt like she was someone else when she wore her jewelry. Someone who wasn’t introverted or awkward, someone who customers could relate to and wanted to buy things from, someone who, well, Hector might want, maybe for forever.

  Though, thinking on it, she hadn’t been wearing earrings or any of her jewelry the last few days as he’d helped her through the toughest time in her life.

  Maybe her jewelry didn’t have the magical powers she hoped it did. Maybe people simply liked her instead of just her jewelry.

  The thought made her halt in her tracks right near the kitchen.

  “You okay, baby?”

  Something to ponder for later. “Yeah. Um, do you need any help?”

  He looked her up and down. When he didn’t speak after several seconds, she curled her toes into the flip-flops she wore—also Hector’s.

  Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Hector thought he deserved someone who could make more of an effort on their date, and—

  “What’s that look about?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “That look on your face. I don’t like it.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say to that.

  He walked over slowly. She didn’t really notice the slight hitch in his step, but she did notice the way his thighs stretched the top of his pants, and the way the muscles in his arms and torso moved in his tee. She noticed the way his shiny, dark hair glinted in the low light in the room—candlelight!—and the way his eyes were all melty again.

  His voice was low and rumbly. “I do, however, like you in my tee, Amelia.”

  She felt that rumble all the way to her toes, which curled even more. “Oh.”

  “Know you deserve a proper date, Amelia. Soon, when you’re ready, we’ll have it.”

  She was mesmerized by his melty eyes and seductive voice. “Okay.”

  “Don’t overthink tonight. Just relax, mi alma.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He brushed a finger down her cheek. “I’ll tell you someday. Just not today.”

  Cryptic, but she didn’t think it was anything bad. He said it in that really gently way, so, no, it couldn’t have been something bad.

  “You can’t have any alcohol, but I got some sparkling juice. Want some?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Take a seat, I’ll bring it to you.”

  “At the table?”

  “If you want. Food’s ready but it’ll keep if you want to eat later.”

  “I could eat now.”

  He nodded to the table. “Take a seat, babe.”

  She sat, and he brought her a champagne flute of sparkling apple cider. She sipped it while he brought out their plates of food.

  “Thought you might like some comfort food that wasn’t too heavy.”

  She stared.

  It was the most perfect plate of food she’d ever seen.

  Every single thing on it was something she loved, and most items she could eat on her bare-minimum food budget.

  A small cup of steaming tomato soup with grilled cheese croutons. A grilled cheese sandwich next to that, crispy and golden on the outside, cut in triangles, with different cheeses oozing out the side. A simple salad of leafy greens, olives, and avocados finished off the plate.

  “Hector, I…”

  “Yeah?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  Her eyes finally lifted from the plate to meet his. “How did you know I love tomato soup and grilled cheese?”

  “You talked about it.”

  “When?”

  “At the pub. One day you were talking to some of the customers about comfort food. You mentioned the things you loved. Some of them were too heavy for you to eat now, but I thought you might be able to eat these.”

  She stared down at her plate. Heck, yeah, she could eat this. She’d eat the heck out of everything on this plate. “Thank you.”

  Her voice was hoarse. Oh, jeez. She was going to cry. On her ‘first’ date with Hector, she was going to cry into her tomato soup. How could she tell that story to her grandkids?

  Oh, jeez. Now she was thinking about their non-existent grandkids again.

  “Amelia? If you don’t want this, I can make something else.”

  Not want this? Was he crazy?

  She pulled back from the chair, walked around the table, and jumped into his lap, startling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

  His arms wrapped gently around her back. “I take it you like the food?”

  She nodded, still trying to get a hold of her emotions.

  “Good, mi alma.” He rubbed her back gently, once again avoiding her bandages.

  She kissed his neck and felt his body tighten in response.

  She’d done that. She, Amelia Asti, was able to affect his body.

  Would wonders never cease?

  She kissed his neck again, then decided to be brave and kiss his jaw as she pulled back. She stared into his eyes for a few moments, then lowered her lips to his. Soft, just a brush, like he’d done to her the last few times.

  He was holding back. She could feel it now in the restraint of his kiss, the tightness of his muscles, the way his body seemed coiled and prepared to strike, and the way something—his something—was pressing against her legs.

  He drew back a little. “You good, Amelia?”

  That was a firm yes. She nodded.

  “Love having you in my arms, but you need to eat. As soon as you’re done, these arms will be right here waiting for you.”

  Her heart swelled. She’d have something good and decent waiting for her. She’d take it. Heck, yeah, she would.

  Even though it was his move, she leaned down and brushed noses with him, then slid out of his lap.

  Dinner was easy. They talked about nothing in particular. Then they moved to the couch, where they had bowls of ice cream and fruit. She didn’t bother asking how he’d known her favorite flavor was vanilla.

  Most people thought vanilla was boring, but not her. Vanilla could become anything. It could be dressed up with toppings, or mixed with scoops of other flavors, or used as a base for different desserts. It was sweet, but not too sweet. Vanilla was a chameleon; for her, she could turn it into whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. To her, it was perfect.

  In a way, she was slightly jealous of an ice cream flavor; she’d tried so hard to change into different things over the years, to try to be what other people wanted, or hide away when she’d failed. It was easy to do that as an ice cream flavor, not so easy as a human. It was only ever at home she felt like she could be herself. Home was her safe space, or it used to be.

  She was terrified of people seeing who she really was and rejecting her. Every time she’d tried in the past—family, past boyfriends, others—they’d all walked away or been cruel in some way. It was easier to pretend she wasn’t there, that she was who they wanted her to be, rather than be herself.

  Now, away from Piers and sitting close to Hector on his couch, she didn’t think that way so much anymore.

  She still loved vanilla, though.

  They watched a movie while she finished off the meal with some herbal tea, him with coffee. They were watching an action flick—her choice—that was really a superhero movie. She loved those. She always wished she had a superpower.

  Sometime during the movie, he’d slipped his arm around her. Sometime after tea and coffee, he’d s
hifted them, and she got pressed up against his side. Sometime before the superheroes convened to save the world, her arm had slid across his stomach and her head had nestled against his chest.

  She’d tried to keep her eyes open, but they’d drifted closed during the big final fight. The next thing she knew, she was being lifted in warm arms and being carried.

  “I can walk,” she mumbled as she nestled into him.

  “Shut it, babe,” he murmured back. He placed her gently on the bed and began to move back.

  She grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

  He pursed his lips. “I shouldn’t.”

  “It’s silly to sleep on the couch. Sleep on the bed.” Then, just so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “I can sleep above the covers this time.”

  “Slide under, mi alma. You’re not sleeping over the covers. I will.” He leaned into the bed, kissed her nose, then her lips, and stood up. He slid her glasses off her face and set them beside the bed. “I’ll be in soon. Gonna change and close down the house. Rest.”

  She didn’t need the prompting because her eyes were already drifting shut. She was dozing, not fully asleep, not fully awake, when he entered the bed. She felt his hand slip into hers, a brush of something—his lips?—against her cheek, and she finally slid into dreamland.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Amelia was feeling good as she sat at the dining table, her head propped on her cast-covered hand, while Hector fixed her some breakfast.

  Her body still hurt—a lot—but she ignored that as best she could. No, she felt good because she’d slept good, then had woken up with Hector’s arm around her.

  She’d been startled by it. Her first thought was that his arm felt nice. Her second thought was his hand was close to her poochy belly, and maybe she should move it. But when she tried to move at all, his arm just tightened and that felt so nice that she told herself to just shut up and enjoy it.

  “I like sleeping with you.”

  Oh God. She’d just blurted that out!

  He turned to her, spatula in hand, and grinned.

  Time to backpedal! “I mean just sleeping. I mean, I know we’ve slept together, but we haven’t slept together. Not that I would mind sleeping together, but, uh, obviously not now when I’m still all banged up and ugly and my legs aren’t shaved, and…”

  Shit! Why’d she just mention her unshaved legs?

  Double shit! Why did she mention her legs at all? He probably thought she was making fun of him.

  He put down the spatula and moved towards her.

  “Oh God. Not that you need legs to sleep together. I mean, not that I know, because I haven’t slept with anybody—that would be slept not slept—but, um, maybe you might need knees or legs for leverage…or something, maybe. But you’ve got knees, so you’re probably all set there.”

  Shut up, Amelia!

  “Oh God.”

  Hector burst out laughing.

  She covered her face with her hands and willed her body to defy the laws of existence and just disappear.

  “Amelia.”

  “I’m not here,” she said, muffled behind her hands.

  “Mi alma, move your hands.”

  She shook her head.

  “Amelia, baby, please. I have to kiss you right now, and you need to move your hands so I can do that.”

  Her hands fell. “What?”

  He gave her a hard, too-short kiss and stepped back, still laughing. She’d never had a laughing kiss before and she really liked it.

  “Now, do you get why you’re cute?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, maybe I should stop cluing you in. If you figure it out, you might use all that cute and awkward against me.”

  She felt insulted by that. “I wouldn’t…manipulate you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” He leaned down to her. “But you could. Very easily. And get anything you want from me.”

  Anything?

  She was trying to think of something to say to that, but the phone rang. Since she was still without a phone, it was his.

  He let it ring and continued to stare at her, laughter not only on his lips but very clearly dancing in his eyes, too.

  His dancing eyes were way better than his melty eyes. Well, maybe it was a toss-up.

  “You should get that.”

  He gave her another quick kiss and moved to answer it.

  He glanced at the screen, then answered it. “This is Hector Perez.”

  His gaze shifted to her. “Yes? You’re looking for Amelia?”

  Her body locked. Oh God. What was it?

  “I see. Yes, she’s here. Hold on.”

  He walked back to her, holding the phone against his chest, concern etched in every line on his face. “It’s the home, mi alma. They’re calling about your mother.”

  “Oh God. Is she…is she…”

  He shook his head. “No. At least I don’t think so. They’ve been trying to get a hold of you, and tried the pub when they couldn’t reach you, and the pub gave them my number. Here, baby.”

  “My phone’s broken.”

  “I know.”

  “I never told them. I should have—”

  He put the phone in her hands. “We’ll deal with that later. Take the call.”

  “Right. Okay.” She took a deep breath, then put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Millie, it’s Annette.”

  “Is she…?”

  “No, but she had a bad night. She had trouble sleeping and got very agitated when we tried to give her some medication. We managed to calm her down, and she’s resting now. But her blood pressure hasn’t been steady for the last twelve hours and she’s been refusing to eat again, and taking out any IVs we put in.”

  Shit. It was bad this time. Her mother got agitated often enough, but she’d never refused food before. Sure, there were times the staff had to feed her or use an IV, but this was much worse.

  Millie had a niggle in the back of her mind, one that was telling her to prepare herself. Her mother might make it through this time, she might not, but the anxiety of not knowing was adding even more stress to her life. Having a sick parent, even one who’d never really been a parent to her to begin with, was a heavy weight to deal with on a day-to-day basis. She never knew when she’d get that call.

  “I’ll come today. Soon.”

  “I know we’ve said this kind of thing before, but things are different this time. Come and bring your man with you.”

  “I will.”

  “Are you feeling better? Physically, I mean?”

  “I’m okay. It’s just going to take time.”

  “All right. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, Annette. You can reach me at this number if you need to. Sorry, my other phone…broke.”

  “We’ll update your contact info. Just come in when you get a chance.”

  She hung up, and Hector was right there beside her, gently rubbing her back.

  “She had a rough night. They think…they think this could be it.”

  “We’ll go after breakfast.”

  She put a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know if I could eat anything right now.”

  “Just a little, all right? You need to keep your strength up.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned down to kiss her head, then left to finish up breakfast.

  She managed to eat a little, and soon they were in her car. She was nervous the entire way there.

  Hector kept his eyes on the road, but his hand linked with hers. “It’ll be all right, baby. You’ll see.”

  What was ‘all right’ in this situation? Was it that her mother got better? Maybe physically she would, but mentally she was already gone. Did it mean she passed away and finally got some peace?

  They got there quickly, parked, and headed inside. Annette found her at the reception desk.

  “I’m glad you could come by today. You can go in and sit with her awhile, but she’s looking pretty rough,
so prepare yourself.” Annette gave her arm a squeeze, then left to check on another patient.

  Hector rubbed a hand down her back. “I’m sorry, baby. Do you want me to go in with you?”

  She sighed, turning into his body and his warmth.

  “Would you mind? If she gets agitated, you’ll need to leave.”

  He kissed her temple. “I understand. Let’s go.”

  Millie walked in first, Hector close behind. More tubes and monitors, IVs. Her mother on her back but her head turned and staring out the window. She seemed even paler than normal, and weaker. Maybe this time was different.

  “Hi, Katie.”

  Nothing.

  “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  Still nothing.

  “I brought a friend with me.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Boyfriend.”

  Millie gave him a wide-eyed ‘not now’ look.

  He just kissed her temple again.

  She liked that.

  It was also a little annoying.

  She turned back to her mother and found her staring at them. Really, staring at Hector.

  “This is Hector, Katie.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Katie.”

  It occurred to Millie that she’d never told Hector her mother’s name, but she was glad he picked up on the fact she didn’t call her ‘mother’.

  They moved further inside the room.

  “Take the seat, mi alma.”

  “You should take it.”

  His voice was soft and even. “Please sit. You know you need it.”

  She decided to pick her battles and this one, in a nursing home room while her mother lay dying just feet away, was not the right battle to pick.

  She sat down and noticed her mother was still staring at him. She wasn’t upset or agitated. Her vitals seemed the same as when she’d first come in. He was someone new; maybe that was the interest for her. She only ever saw the same people day in and day out. No one new typically visited dementia patients because it could upset them.

  She didn’t seem upset now, more curious.

  Since her mother had come back into her life, Millie had never seen her have a lucid day. The doctors thought the car accident made her mental instability worse, and she just regressed past the point of regular lucidity. She’d also never spoken since the accident. There’d been nothing wrong physically, so the doctors couldn’t figure out why. When Millie had seen her at the hospital after the accident, and heard everything that was happening to her mother, her heart had broken.