Breaking Fences (The Breaking Series)

by Juliana Haygert

  “Brazilian things.”

  His brows arched up. “Like what?”

  I placed the basket on his desk and pulled the plaid towel from over it. “Like food.”

  The sweet smell from the basket spread almost instantly, and Tom practically moaned. I pushed some of the towering paper aside and began spreading everything on his desk. The sound of tires rolling on the stones outside brought butterflies to my stomach. I didn’t know why I was worried about what Garrett would think of all this, but I was. I kept organizing our banquet while hearing his approaching footsteps.

  Garrett halted by the door and inhaled. “Is this heaven?”

  His gaze went to the goodies on Tom’s desk before settling on me. He wore his worn hat, a light blue and white plaid shirt, faded jeans, and his brown boots. His hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb this morning, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Meu Deus, he was something. Something that made my heart beat faster, something that brought lust with full force into my veins.

  I cleared my throat and broke the stare. “Close.” I waved him in. “Yesterday—”

  “You were here yesterday?” He took two large steps and stood by my side.

  “All day,” Tom said.

  I thought Garrett would comment on that, but when he shut his mouth, I continued, “Yesterday, Tom asked me a few things about Brazil, so I thought about showing you both a few things instead.” I pointed to a bowl with bread rolls. “These are called cacetinho. Wait, that’s only in my state. In other states, it’s called cervejinha.” I pointed to the next thing. “This is goiabada. It’s made from a fruit. You guys call it guava, I think. It’s sweet and we like to eat it with cheese. Next—” I pointed to another bread-like roll. “—is Pão de Queijo, or cheese bread.” I pointed to the next plate. “These are called sonho. It’s Portuguese for dream. They are made with a fried sweet dough and filled with, in this case, doce de leite.” I picked a closed jar of doce de leite. “It has the same consistency of peanut butter, I guess.”

  “What’s that?” Tom pointed to the thermos beside the basket.

  “That’s hot water for the chimarrão.”

  “Chima-what now?” Tom asked, wrinkling his nose.

  I chuckled, reaching for the cuia inside the basket. “This is called cuia. We fill it with this herb.” I grabbed a packet from inside the basket. I opened the packet and filled half of the cuia with the green herb under curious surveillance. I tilted the cuia to the side, covering its opening with my hand. Carefully, I took my hand off, leaving the cuia slanted, placed the bomba, which was like a metal straw, and filled it with hot water. “Now, we leave it to soak a little, because the herb will absorb half of the water.” I dropped the cuia on the desk. “The ones I bought came with a flat base, otherwise I would need a stand for it.”

  “And then what?” Garrett asked.

  “You drink it.”

  “Is it legal?” Tom asked, examining the herb.

  I chuckled. “Yes. It’s an herb, like a tea herb, though this one is bitter, not sweet.”

  “Bitter tea?” Tom asked.

  The water was already gone, so I filled it up and drank the first one. Then I filled it again and offered it to them. “Who is going to try it?” They looked at each other. “Meu Deus, you two are babies. Just try it.”

  Garrett took it from me. “I just drink it through here?”

  “That’s called bomba, and yes, you drink it through there.”

  He shook his head once and took a long sip. His nose wrinkled and he pulled back. “Oh, God, this is bitter.”

  I laughed. “Nobody likes it the first time they drink it. Nor the second. But it gets better. And I guess it’s a matter of getting used to it. My parents always drank it twice a day. Growing up, I started drinking it with them. Nowadays, I barely drink it, but I miss it.”

  “Interesting,” Tom said.

  Garrett finished it and passed the cuia. “I don’t want any more.”

  I filled the cuia with more water and offered it to Tom.

  He raised his hand in defense. “No, ma’am, I’ll wait until the next time.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” I said. “Now, the songs.” I let go of the chimarrão. I pulled a small speaker from the basket, plugged it into the wall, and connected my iPhone to it. “The songs you’re about to hear are from the south of Brazil.” I picked a magazine from the basket. “And these are the typical clothes we use while performing theses dances.” I opened the magazine and showed them a gaucho with bombacha—a type of pants—a shirt, thick belt, boots, hat, and scarf. Beside the gaucho was a prenda in a dress with a full skirts and lots of frills and laces. Her hair was tied with a bow or flower. Tom and Garrett repeated the words gaucho and prenda several times, testing them out. It was almost funny. “Depending on which town you visit, you may see people wearing these kind of clothes on a regular basis. Especially men.” I approached Garrett and held his hands. “Ready?”

  His brows shot to his forehead. “For?”

  I smiled. “Dancing.”

  “Um, I don’t know this dance.”

  “I’m gonna teach you.” I put his right hand on my waist and my right hand in his left hand. “Hit play, Tom.”

  He did and the rhythm reverberated through the walls.

  Tom tapped his foot to the beat of the song. “It’s nice. I like it.”

  “It’s two steps to your left, one to your right. Meanwhile, we circle the dance floor.”

  “What dance floor?” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “Just do it.” I tugged his arm and we started moving. The first few steps, he was too slow and tried to pick it up on the last second. He looked down at our feet, too worried about space, rhythm, feet, and all that. “Hey, Garrett.” I squeezed his hand, and he finally looked at me. I slid his hand from my waist to my back, making his body touch mine. “Relax.”

  His eyes on mine, he nodded and then took a deep breath. After ten seconds, he was visibly better and didn’t feel too tense.

  He gave me a half-grin. “This isn’t too bad.” Becoming bolder, he took me for a wider spin on our fake dance floor. “So, people listen to this kind of music down there?”

  “Only in the south and it’s not many. I only listen to it on Sunday mornings, when my father likes to put it on and sit on the porch with his chimarrão before breakfast. And on special occasions like balls and such.”

  “But everyone knows how to dance?”

  “In the south, most do. It’s like samba. Every Brazilian girl knows how to samba, even if she’s not a fan of it.”

  “You aren’t a fan of it?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  He tilted his head. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever stop learning new things about you.”

  I smiled. “Possibly never.”

  Garrett spun me under his arm, then held me close and tipped me back. He angled his torso to me, putting his face inches from mine. His hazel eyes sparkled and my breath caught. “That’s kinda exciting,” he whispered. He pulled me up, keeping his head close to my neck. I heard a sharp inhale. Was he sniffing me? “I like your perfume.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered, stunned.

  Tom cleared his throat. “So, how about we actually eat all this food?”

  Tom’s words broke the spell. I stepped back, away from Garrett’s arms. He watched me with a knot between his brows. Meu Deus, what wouldn’t I give to know what was going on his mind right now.

  Taking a deep breath, I forced my attention to Tom. “Yeah, sure.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Midterms were harder than I thought they would be. Maybe it was because my mind was so scattered, or that I didn’t study as much as I should. I had always been a good student, but I guess being away from college for over a year had made me lazy.

  I had six exams and two massive papers due between Monday and Friday; I felt like I didn’t have a breather. I also didn’t get a breather from all the crazy guys hitting
on me. Seriously, what was up with that? If I were paranoid, I would think it was Audrey’s doing. She was paying them to come bother me. However, that would be too insane.

  By the time Saturday morning came, I was more than eager to get to Rock Hill.

  As usual, I took breakfast to Tom and Garrett. They teased me it wasn’t the Brazilian stuff; they wanted more. I promised I would buy more soon. Or, if they found me a range, I could cook for them.

  After lunch, I sat behind Tom’s desk and sorted through his papers. This morning I had asked him if he would like to have all the paperwork organized. When he said yes, I told him I didn’t mind organizing the mess for him if he didn’t mind me seeing the paperwork—some of them were bound to have the price of things Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be too happy with strangers get a glimpse of.

  “I trust you,” Tom said.

  An hour later, I had the paperwork organized in stacks separating them by subject. The next step was to organize them by dates—the ones that were from a long time ago and could go into the file cabinet, the new ones that needed to stay within reach, and the future ones, which needed action. In addition, several things needed to be entered into the computer system, and some payments were past due. I was sure money wasn’t the problem here, only disorganization.

  My estimate was that I would be working here twenty-four-seven for the next three weeks.

  I was separating the overdue bills so I could show them to Tom later when my phone rang. I fished it from inside my jeans pocket and glanced at the screen before answering.

  “Hi, Leo,” I said, smiling.

  “Hi, irmãzinha.”

  I shook my head. I was born two minutes after him, but still he insisted on calling me his little sister. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing much. Practicing, going to tournaments, winning.”

  “Spending quality time with me,” Hannah shouted into the speaker.

  I chuckled. “Of course.”

  “How are you?” he asked.

  Once upon a time, I would have been painfully honest with him. Things had changed. Time passed. We grew up, and I moved away. As much as I would love to share all my problems with him, he was too far away to comfort me. Not to mention, he would want to hop on the first flight here to fix everything. I couldn’t let him do that.

  “I—”

  “You hesitated,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s nothing wrong.”

  “Of course there is. You’re always bubbly and talkative, and you say whatever is on your mind. You’re not doing that, which means there’s something wrong.”

  “There’s nothing wrong, Leo.”

  He paused. “Okay. If you say so. I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Montenegro has a fundraiser game in Denver in three weeks. I’ve been trying to arrange it since you left, you know, to go visit you, but I didn’t want to tell you before it was happening. And well, it’s happening.”

  I smiled. “That’s great.”

  “You’ll come see us, right?”

  “I don’t know. With Dad there, I’m not sure I should.”

  “You will let a misunderstanding with Dad stop you from seeing me?”

  “Is Mom coming?”

  “No.”

  “Hannah?”

  “No. It’s just the guys.”

  I let out a long breath. “Without Mom or Hannah, there won’t be a buffer.”

  “All right. Who are you and what have you done with my feisty and big-mouthed sister?”

  I laughed. “I guess moving out can change a person.” That and everything else said person had to go through.

  “Wow, I thought I would never see the day. I will miss the old Bia.”

  I missed her already. “Okay, back to the game. Just for one day?”

  “We’ll arrive in the morning, play at two in the afternoon, and take the flight back at eight.”

  “You guys are crazy.”

  “As long as you come to see me, I’m happy being crazy.”

  Garrett walked in the office holding some papers.

  “All right, I’ll come see you,” I said.

  He stopped with the papers in his hands and stared at me. A crease settled between his brows.

  “Ótimo,” Leo said.

  “See you there.”

  “Eu te amo.”

  For some reason, I answered in English. “I love you too.” Garrett’s brows shot up. I ended the call and turned to him. “Those papers are for me?”

  “Um, yeah.” He handed me them. I thought he would rush out. But he stayed, looking at me. “So, was that your boyfriend?”

  I laughed. “I don’t have a boyfriend. That was my twin brother. He just told me he’s playing a fundraiser game around here in three weeks and asked me to come see him.”

  “Oh.”

  Was it relief in his eyes?

  I cleared my throat. “Can I help you?”

  He cocked his head. “In about an hour, I’m going to take Felicity on the main trail. She needs the exercise. I was wondering if you want to come too. With Pepper. You know, Pepper needs exercising too.”

  I smiled. “I would like that.”

  That cute lopsided grin tugged on his lips. “Great.”

  ***

  “Did you buy her, or was she born here too?” I asked, pointing at his light gray mare. With the stables behind us, we steered the horses around the arena, toward the main trail.

  As if knowing I was talking about her, Felicity nickered. Garrett leaned over her and patted her neck. “I bought her when she was three month olds.”

  Jealous, Pepper shook her head and I patted her too. “How old is she now?”

  “Seven.”

  So, he bought her when he was eighteen. “What’s up with her name?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hmm, it’s kinda girlie for a guy to name his filly Felicity.”

  He looked at the pasture. “My mother loved horses. She never took me riding, but she talked about horses frequently. Once she said one of her dreams was to own a beautiful gray mare. She said she would name her Felicity.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, when I got involved with horses and learned to love them on my own, I searched for Felicity.”

  I smiled. “That’s sweet.”

  He nodded. “How about you? Do you have any horses of your own?”

  “Yes. Her name is Preta.”

  He frowned. “Preta?”

  “It means black in Portuguese, but the word is also used as a sweet nickname, like calling someone sweetheart or darling. Some people call their loved ones preta.”

  “That’s odd.”

  I tried seeing it from his point of view. I guess it would be odd for any non-Brazilian. “I guess it is.”

  “Where’s Preta now?”

  “At Hannah’s ranch. She’s my twin brother’s girlfriend.”

  “Wait. Did you buy her here in the U.S.?”

  “No, I brought her from Brazil.”

  His eyes went wide. “Wow.”

  “My family owns a farm in Brazil. We have polo teams and breed polo horses.”

  “Right. Your family is big on the polo scene.”

  “Yeah. Well, my brothers’ and cousin’s horses are all from our farms. We brought them with us.”

  “That’s quite the move.”

  I nodded. “They want to stay so they had to bring everything.”

  “And the farm in Brazil?”

  “I’m not sure what my father’s plans are for that. He’ll probably try to keep it running from here, I guess.”

  “That won’t be easy.”

  “Nope.”

  We fell silent and I looked around. The path was narrower here and the trees formed a brief but beautiful canopy. A gentle breeze ruffled the trees and the leaves bled colors as they changed from summer to late fall.

  “How are you liking Colorado so far?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I grimaced, unsure how to answer. I couldn’t be honest with him, could I?

  “It’s not bad.”

  “It has been only two months since classes started. You’ll learn to love this place with time.” He sounded so sure, but I wasn’t. “Do you miss Brazil?”

  “I miss the rest of my family, I miss my friends, I miss my family’s ranch, I miss the food, but I don’t miss much more. It’s a great country, a beautiful country with so much to give and so much to offer, but it’s messed up. The government is messed up. Even though I think the United States has its flaws, I find it’s easier to live here.”

  “Even with all the rumors going around campus?” he asked and I tensed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that. It was out before I could stop and think about it.”

  “It’s okay, I guess.”

  “I see how the rumors affect you.”

  “Do you believe them? The rumors, I mean?” For some reason, his opinion mattered to me.

  He averted his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

  “I’m not sure you want to hear.”

  “Please, I want to hear.”

  He sighed. “I heard about that first mixer, that you tried giving a lap dance to one of the actives at The Bat, and when Audrey tried to stop you from acting like that, you argued with her. Then, I heard you are—were—after Jonah. You followed him; you threw yourself at him.”

  My mouth hung open. “You still believe that?”

  He shook his head. “I’m starting to believe it’s the other way around. Jonah is after you, and Audrey is spinning lies about you as a way to get back at you. Crazy girl.”

  I blew out a long breath. “That’s exactly what’s happening. The first time Jonah came on to me, I didn’t know Audrey and he had been an item, and she freaked out. That’s when she spread the lap dancing lie.” I shuddered. “Meu Deus, how I hate her.” One corner of his lips curled up. “What?”

  “It’s cute when you say words in Portuguese.”

  Heat spread over my cheeks. “I can’t shut it off.”

  “I know and I don’t mind.” He tilted his head, locking his eyes on mine. “I’m sorry Audrey is making your experience here such a terrible thing.”