“Here, here,” Evan chimed, lifting his glass in salute.
Patrick laughed. “He’s teasing you, Roshawn.”
Angel dropped a heavy hand against her upper thigh. His palm burned hot against her flesh. “I know that you are working very hard for me, Roshawn. I have also learned that you take some things far too serious. You need to…how is it they say…lighten up?”
“That’s funny,” Roshawn answered. “I distinctly remember hearing the same things about you. But all jokes aside, Angel,” she continued as she turned ever so slightly in her seat to face him, “do you really believe men should dominate women? And that women are incapable of functioning as well as men?”
Angel sat back in his seat, his hands folded comfortably in his lap. “All jokes aside, I have great respect for women who are tops in their field, or whatever it is they choose to do. I do however think that men are much better at handling explosive situations and issues than women are, which inevitably gives them an advantage. We men do a better job of taking the heat, so women should just stick to what they do better—cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children and satisfying their man.” The coy smile on Angel’s face widened as he gave her a quick nod of his head.
As he concluded, both Patrick and Evan came to their feet, clapping their hands loudly. “I’m converted,” Patrick joked. “Sign me up.”
“Here’s to being a man!” Evan cheered, his glass clinking in salute with Angel’s.
Candy giggled, her eyes rolling skyward.
Roshawn shook her head. “You’re all a bunch of fools,” she said.
“I’m so glad you two are hitting it off.” Nina chuckled as both of them tossed her a look. “Roshawn, why don’t you give me a hand with the soup,” she suggested.
Roshawn nodded. “Yes, why don’t I.”
Out of sight and earshot, Roshawn gripped her friend by the shoulders and shook her where she stood. “I am going to kill you.”
Nina laughed. “You need to stop giving the poor guy a hard time. It’s obvious he likes you and you like him.”
Roshawn rolled her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And how am I giving him a hard time?”
“This tit-for-tat thing you two do. He only does it because you do and you do it because you’d rather be doing other things with him.”
“I know you’ve lost your mind now,” Roshawn said shaking her head as she watched her friend dip a thick, tomato-based soup into oversize bowls. “You know, that man doesn’t have a clue just how hot things could get for him,” Roshawn mused, putting a stalk of celery from Nina’s serving tray into her mouth.
“Maybe you need to show him,” Nina responded.
Roshawn met her friend’s gaze, mischief floating across both their expressions. “Maybe I should.” Roshawn looked around her friend’s kitchen. “What all are you serving tonight?” she asked, leaning to peer into one of the pots.
“We’re starting off with a cold tomato soup. Then we’re having a chicken and vegetable risotto, and New York style cheesecake with fresh berries for dessert.”
There was a devilish glimmer shining in Roshawn’s eye. She reached for one of the soup bowls, then shuffled through Nina’s spice cabinet.
“What are you going to do?” Nina asked, eyeing her curiously.
“I’m just going to see how well Mr. Rios can take some heat.”
Minutes later, Roshawn helped her friend serve the dish, setting a bowl in front of Angel first, and then all the others. Sitting back down she dropped her cloth napkin back into her lap and pulled her wineglass to her lips.
“This looks very good, Nina,” Angel said sweetly as he reached for his spoon.
“It’s an old family recipe,” Nina responded, an impish grin crossing her face. “It has just the right touch of tangy and spice to it.”
Roshawn chuckled. “Nina says only real men who can handle fire can handle this dish. Isn’t that right, Nina?” She brought her own spoon to her mouth as she took a taste.
Evan hummed. “This is very good. It has just enough heat to give it some flavor.”
Both Nina and Roshawn watched as Angel took his first taste of the appetizer, swallowing a spoonful of the rich soup. Roshawn followed, taking another mouthful of her own as she gave him a slight smile. “It is good, Nina,” she said cheerily. “You must give me the recipe.”
Angel swallowed his first bite and then his second. As he reached to take his third, his eyes suddenly watered, the flavor hitting him with full force. He grabbed for his water glass, gulping the cold fluid quickly. “It’s very spicy,” he said, tossing his hostess a quick glance.
Roshawn pulled another spoonful into her own mouth. Still smiling, she nodded her head. “I would actually prefer it a bit hotter. What do you think, Patrick?”
The man nodded. “It’s one of my favorites, but you’re right. I like it a little hotter.”
Roshawn looked back toward Angel who appeared to be turning green. She struggled not to bust out laughing. The man was still fighting to get the concoction down, not wanting to insult his host. The flavoring was intense, heat burning his lips and tongue and down into his stomach. He looked around at all the others who seemed to be enjoying theirs with gusto.
“I’m not partial to spicy foods myself,” Candy was saying. “Evan likes a lot of pepper and Tabasco on his food. But this is very good, Nina.”
“A dish like this takes a discerning palate,” Roshawn said. She took another spoonful, swirling the liquid around in her mouth. “This just invigorates your tongue. Don’t you agree, Angel?”
The man nodded, his discomfort becoming even more obvious.
“Don’t you like spicy foods, Angel?” Roshawn asked sweetly.
“Yes, but this is very intense,” he managed to say, taking a sip of his water, then his wine and another of water. “Very intense.”
Roshawn chuckled. “Not this. This is just a little heat. I’m sure a big, strong man like you can handle twice this heat.”
Angel laid his spoon against the table. He turned to stare at Roshawn first and then Nina. Both women burst out into laughter.
“What’s so funny,” Patrick asked, his gaze racing between them. “What did you two do?”
Angel shook his head. “I think I’ve been tricked,” he said, reaching his spoon into Roshawn’s bowl. His gaze locked on hers as he pulled a spoonful of her soup into his mouth. The flavoring was mellow, a tasty blend of tomato and just a hint of spice. The level of heat was nowhere near that of the mess remaining in his own bowl. He nodded his head slowly. “Yes,” he said, dropping his spoon back to the table. “They have gotten me good.”
Roshawn grinned, her palm dropping against his forearm. “You deserved that,” she laughed.
He shook his head, her touch firing every nerve ending the spicy soup had missed. “What did you do to this soup?”
“I just gave it a little zing. I added some habanero seeds, Tabasco, red pepper, horseradish and a few other hot spices to flavor it up special. Just for you.” Her gaze danced with his, the two staring boldly at each other. “I wanted to see what you were made of, Mr. Rios.”
“And did I pass the test?” he asked, his voice dropping low, the seductive tone washing over Roshawn.
She shifted slightly in her seat, moisture puddling in every crevice of her body. “You were quite the sport,” she said, her gaze dropping in admiration.
Patrick shook his head, giving his wife a stern look. Nina shrugged her shoulders. “I had nothing to do with it,” she said, lifting her hands up in surrender.
Roshawn reached for the ladle in the ceramic tureen that sat in the center of the table. She filled her own bowl with more soup then passed it to Angel, exchanging his dish with hers. “Why don’t you see if you can handle this?” she said.
Chapter 14
It was an extraordinary evening for a baseball game. The air was warm, the sky crystal-clear in a deep shade of ocean blue. There was a hint of a breeze blowing
in the air and the stadium was afire with laughing, excited spectators. Roshawn and Ming had come in through the players’ entrance, trailing behind Chen and Allison. Israel and Nina brought up the rear.
“This is so cool!” Ming exclaimed. “I can’t believe we get to watch the game from the pool!”
Chen glanced over his shoulder, smiling at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “Please remember to thank the club’s president when you see him, Ming. Remember your manners, please.”
Ming rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm through Roshawn’s. “Yes, Daddy,” she said mockingly, causing him to throw her a stern look.
Mother and daughter both burst out laughing. Roshawn shook her head. “Relax, Chen. You are wound much too tight.”
Up ahead of them, as if on cue, the doors to the locker room opened and the players began to head out in single file to the dugout. The group paused to let them all exit. Chen extended his wishes for a good game, directing individual comments to each of them as they waved a quick hello and goodbye. Nina jumped up excitedly when Patrick made his exit, blowing the man a kiss that he pretended to catch in midair. Angel was close on his heels and he stopped short at the sight of them all, acknowledging them with a quick nod before hurrying to catch up with the rest of his team.
When his gaze had landed on Roshawn, looking her up and down, she felt herself hold her breath. Biting down against her top lip, Roshawn spun from his sight, leaning down to brush at the back of her leg as if something had crawled against her skin. Israel’s booming voice, encouraging his son’s game, brought her back to the moment as she exhaled, air rushing past the line of her lips. As she stood upright she’d been glad that he was gone.
He had been a good sport at Nina’s dinner party. The rest of the evening had been pleasant, despite the not-so-nice trick Roshawn had played on him. Their conversations had been engaging, only experiencing one other verbal battle during the course of the evening. Angel had departed just minutes before Roshawn and though she had hesitated, hopeful for a hint of his interest and attention, he had only wished her a warm good-night, disappearing before either had had an opportunity to even think about making plans to see each other again. Feigning disinterest in his presence was becoming harder and harder, and Roshawn feared her enthusiasm would not be received as eagerly. Had Angel Rios disregarded her in front of her family and friends, she would have been devastated.
As Chen stopped to have a quick conversation with one of the batting coaches, the rest of the group made their way to the Pool Pavilion. Located next to the outfield wall in right center, the pool area had been designed to recreate an upscale Arizona backyard. Besides the immaculate swimming pool, the area boasted a hot tub, fountains, and included catered dining with an assortment of personal amenities for about thirty-five select patrons and guests of the organization. What had fascinated Roshawn most the first time she saw it was its proximity to home plate. Sitting only some four hundred and fifteen feet away, the occasional home run had been known to make quite a splash, which in turn initiated a rush of water cannons that fired streams some thirty-five feet into the air.
* * *
In the home team’s dugout, Angel was pacing the floor, anxiety sweeping through him. His father hadn’t said anything about coming to the game with Roshawn and her family. Why such had been bothering him was a mystery, Angel thought. He took a deep breath, fighting to focus on the game. As he stepped on deck, ready for his next at bat, he watched as the opposing team’s coach called for a time-out and slowly strolled toward the pitcher’s mound. The man’s expression was blank, the lines of his profile carved from the control that came with last-inning jitters where his team was ahead three runs to two and he had no intentions of losing.
The Titans had two players on base, one holding up the bag at third and their winning run at first. The batter up had a full count against him—three balls and two strikes, and with one out already secure, the coach had no interest in seeing the second potential out lost to them. With Angel on deck, most had reasoned the possibility that he could be the last Titans player to put the bat on the ball for this game. The Titans were hopeful he’d catch a good fastball that he could hammer home. Paramount on everybody’s mind though was that Angel Rios’s previous two at bats hadn’t gone anywhere. For the first time in any game, Angel had been struck out, not once, but twice.
Angel scanned the crowd of spectators, eager faces cheering and catcalling out to the players. For some reason he found himself searching out the family seating area where the players’ wives and children usually gathered. Even from where he stood it wasn’t difficult to find her. Roshawn stood side by side with Patrick’s wife, the two females laughing with the other women as everyone waited for the game to resume. He watched as the team’s mascot, Baxter the Bobcat, jumped into the stands and motioned for her attention. The music blared as the duo did an impromptu dance, Roshawn shimmying every inch of her body around the stuffed creature. The crowd roared with laughter as the cameras caught the action on the Jumbotron screen, the outdoor LED video being panned around the stadium.
Angel bristled with jealousy. Everyone affiliated with the baseball organization knew the young man who donned the mascot’s costume was a notorious flirt. The team teased him endlessly about the women he wrangled into dates by playing innocent in his bobcat costume. Angel could just imagine the tall, lanky, good-looking man slipping Roshawn his name and number after copping himself a squeeze and a tickle on the pretext of entertaining the audience. Angel bristled for a second time as Baxter leaned to kiss her cheek after bowing his gratitude for the dance. The audience might have been fooled, but Angel wasn’t.
He heaved a deep sigh. She hadn’t seemed happy at all to see him, he thought, as he found himself reflecting on their chance meeting before the game. She had barely given him a smile before turning her back to him as his father wished him a good game. Clearly, there was no interest there and he was wasting his time to think that there might be.
The crack of the bat hitting the ball drew his attention as he watched a high fly ball drop easily into the catcher’s mitt. The catcher checked the base runners back to their bases and threw the ball easily back to the pitcher. With two outs, the crowd was cheering loudly for Angel as he stepped into the batter’s box, shifting his athletic cup with his left hand as he dug his toe into the dirt. Angel lifted his bat over his right shoulder and adjusted his stance. Before he realized it, he’d taken one last glance in Roshawn’s direction to see if she was watching. Three pitches later, Angel Rios was caught looking as the umpire called him out on strikes, the Titans losing their first game of the season.
* * *
The requisite “good game, good game” chants from the dugout to the locker room had grated on Angel’s last nerve. It hadn’t been a good game. In fact, it had been his personal worst game of all time and the hurt of it was all over his face. His teammates avoided him like the plague as he stormed into the locker room, throwing his gear to the floor. Even the coach hadn’t bothered to comment during his wrap up speech, and Angel had refused all the media interviews.
Roshawn had felt his disappointment as if it were her own. She had hurt for him, sensing his dejection as he’d slammed his bat into home plate, his head and shoulders drooping low. His body was hunched as he’d exited the ball field. Standing outside the locker room door with Israel, Roshawn wasn’t sure if she should be there but the old man had pulled her along behind him after they’d wished Ming, Chen and Allison a good night. Nina had been waiting with them until Patrick had made his exit thirty minutes earlier. Roshawn had watched with just a hint of envy as the woman had embraced her husband, assuring him that the team would have better luck the next time. Before they’d headed in the direction of the exit, Patrick had asked if they needed a ride home, tossing her a curious stare. Israel had answered for her, declining the offer as he noted they would wait for Angel.
Roshawn had smiled, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. I have my car and
as soon as Mr. Rios catches up with his son I’ll take off.”
Patrick had smiled back warmly. “It may be a while. Angel’s not in a good mood. This game was rough on him,” he’d said as Nina had hugged them both goodbye.
Now, standing beside Israel, still waiting, Roshawn was questioning whether or not she should still be there or if she should have said goodbye some time ago. Israel seemed to read her mind as he dropped a hand against her arm.
“Thank you for waiting with me, Roshawn. I am sure Angel will not be too much longer.”
Roshawn reached out to give the man a quick hug. “I’m glad I could stay with you. I wouldn’t have wanted you to still be here all by your lonesome. Does he always take this long?”
Israel sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Not usually, but I’m sure he’s not doing well. He will take this game hard. Angel puts much pressure on himself. He will be unhappy with his performance for a very long time.”
At that exact moment Angel stepped through the door. Startled, Roshawn jumped, the motion of it catching his immediate attention. She imagined that Angel’s ears must have been burning because his appearance was as if he’d heard them call his name.
“Speak of the devil,” she said cheerily, trying to make light of the moment.
Angel looked from her to his father and back. “Why are you here?”
Roshawn stiffened, pulling her five-feet-two-inch body upward. “Your father asked me to wait with him.”
Angel shook his head, then brushed past the two of them, not bothering to utter another word. With the fresh memory of Nina and Patrick in her mind, Roshawn was put off by Angel’s behavior. Tossing her hands up in frustration she rushed to catch up with him. Grabbing his arm, she threw the full weight of her body into the momentum and spun him around to face her. Angel stared down at her, his eyes ablaze.
“What is your problem? I was only trying to keep your father company,” Roshawn said, her voice raised one octave, her hands clutching her hips.
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