Swallowing my sudden nervousness, I opened the door. My mouth went dry.
Gui stood there—in jeans, a casual T-shirt, and sans baseball hat. In fact, his hair looked a little damp, as if he had just showered. His blue eyes shone and he had a half-grin on his lips.
He held up the ice cream tub he had cradled on his hands. “Oi.”
I smiled. “Buying free passage?”
“Sorta.”
I stepped aside and let him in, wondering what the hell he was doing here on a Friday night.
He was already opening the ice cream over the kitchen’s counter by the time I snapped out of it and closed the door.
He looked around the kitchen. “Where are the bowls again?”
“I’ll get them.” I strode into the kitchen and grabbed two ice cream bowls from a cabinet.
He shook his head at me. “No ice cream for me. But I do accept chocolate, if you have it.”
I smiled and reached for the chocolate in the pantry. “What if I didn’t have it?”
“Then I would have to run home and grab some,” he said as he served me what looked like three big scoops of ice cream.
Holy crap, did he think I could eat all that and not worry about gaining weight. I was a girl. Girls tended to gain weight easily. Ugh.
I took the bowl from him before he added a fourth scoop. “Thanks.” I settled back on the floor of the living room, hiding my bare legs under the table.
Gui sat on the couch behind me, just to my side. “That’s … wow, I didn’t know you could draw like that.”
I narrowed my eyes at my drawing. “It’s not that great.” And it wasn’t. I sort of knew a little about art since I had to draw a lot for my class, and this wasn’t close to what art students could do, what real artists could do.
“I can’t even draw stick figures.” He unwrapped the chocolate bar. “To me, this looks perfect.” He tilted his head, taking in my drawing. “I can see the lines and the strand of the coat and the shadows. I would say this horse’s face is perfect.”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
“But … hm, why were you drawing a horse?”
“It wasn’t my intention. I was trying to work on my project for school, but nothing came to me, so I guess my mind went to yesterday evening, to playing with Belle in the round pen, and I just … drew a horse.”
“Not any horse. Belle.”
What …? But he was right. I could see her now, the way the hair on top of her forehead always swept to the left, and the little mark under her right eye. It was Belle. And I hadn’t even noticed it.
“I guess you’re right.”
Gui placed the empty chocolate wrapper on the side table, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, putting his face a mere foot from mine. I gulped.
“So, how is the secret project going?”
I chuckled. “Well, it’s so secret, it wants to remain a mystery even to me.”
One corner of his lips tilted up. “Wow, Hilary Taylor can crack a joke. I’m impressed.”
I swatted his shin and he made a face, pretending it had really hurt. “Shut up, Guilherme Fernandes.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know your middle name. In fact, I don’t think I know many things about you.”
He rested his chin on his hand, and that made his face even closer than mine. Gosh, he was … he was handsome. With those blue eyes and that chiseled jaw and that full mouth—
“What do you want to know?”
“We can start with a middle name,” I said quickly.
“It’s not common to have middle names in Brazil. We have two last names, though. One from our mother’s family and one from our father’s family. So, I’m Guilherme Duarte Fernandes.”
“Duarte is your mother’s and Fernandes is your father’s.”
“Yes, that’s why Leo, Bia, Ri, and Pedro have the same last name, because our fathers are brothers. Their other last name, though, or what you here call middle name, is their mother’s so it’s not the same as mine.”
I nodded. “I get it. It’s odd, but I get it.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“I know you’re twenty-four. You love polo, in fact you live for polo. I also know you like to party. You seem to like exercising since I’ve seen you going to the gym or going running a few times.”
“I can’t say I love exercising, but I’m always glad after, when I know I’ve done it.”
I tapped my chin, thinking. “You seem to be a good friend and your cousins love you, and … I don’t know anything else, I think.”
“Then ask something else.”
I leaned back, my side resting on the couch, and Gui straightened, sitting up so he didn’t have to twist to look at me.
What could I ask him? I wanted it to be a good question.
Staring at the half-grin, I thought and thought until it struck me. “Tell me something you did as a teenager, something that was sort of embarrassing but you don’t regret it.”
He gaped. “What kind of question is that?”
I waved my hand at him. “Just answer it.”
He looked around the living room for a moment, probably thinking of something outrageous to tell me. I bet he had many entertaining tales of a rebellious youth. I almost laughed.
“Bom.” He ran a hand through his hair and returned his eyes to mine. “I used to be on an invernada.”
“A what?”
“Invernada. That’s what we call a group of people who dance traditional dances from my state in Brazil.”
My turn to gape. “You danced?”
Gui chuckled softly. “I know you’re either imagining me in tights dancing ballet, or in loose pants that are barely hanging on my hips. That’s not it.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened the YouTube app. “I’m gonna show you an example.”
He typed dança folclórica gaúcha in the search box and thousands of videos popped up. He browsed through a few, and then clicked on one.
A melodic but heavy beat came from the phone’s speakers, and the dancers, always couples, swayed from side to side, sometimes stomping their feet on the floor, along with the music, or clapped their hands or twirled. Gui switched to another video, then another, showing me different rhythms and clothing—though it was always the same style. The men wore pants that were loose in the legs, but tight on the hips and shins. Some were plain, but others had designs and details on the side. The look was completed by shirts, also with some kind of frill or detail, a scarf of sorts around their necks, boots, spurs, and hat. Odd shaped cowboy hats. The women wore dresses with many, many details and laces and frills and fringes. Some dresses went to their necks, and some showed slight cleavage. Some had long sleeves; some were short. However, all of them were round, full skirts that brushed the floor. Their hair was also brushed in beautiful waves, and they had something in their hair that matched their dresses—a flower, a tiara, a bow.
It looked pretty, powerful, and all the dancers, all of them, seemed proud and happy to be dancing the dances of their state.
“It’s so … meaningful.”
Gui nodded, a small smile on his lips. “It is. I’m glad you see that. We gaúchos are proud of our state and its unique culture.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And you danced that?”
“I did. Pedro pushed me into it. There were these girls from school …” Gui ran a hand through his hair again. “We had a crush on them and we knew they danced with an invernada group, so we joined. The thing is, he and I actually liked it. We danced with them for over a year, long after our crushes were gone.”
“Why did you quit?”
“Polo. We were getting too good at polo and we were at a point in our career where we had to choose. Play polo for fun and keep going to the invernada’s rehearsals, or dive into polo with all we had, which meant practice and practice and practice some more.” He shrugged. “So we quit.”
“That’s a shame. I would have liked to see you and Pedro dresse
d like that and dancing those dances.”
Gui shot to his feet. “Bom, I don’t have the clothes here with me, but I still know how to dance. Or at least, I still know the basic steps.” He extended his hand to me.
I just stared at it. “What?”
“Come dance with me,” he said, as if that was the most normal thing ever. I kept staring at his outstretched hand. “Just come.” He leaned forward, grabbed my hands in his, and pulled me up. He pushed the coffee table to the side, and played one of those videos on YouTube. Then he turned to me, hands open. “May I?”
I swallowed the sudden self-consciousness and nodded.
Gui stepped into my personal space, took my right hand in his left, and placed his right hand on my waist, while I rested my left hand on his shoulder.
Those big, blue eyes were on mine. “Just … let me guide you.” His voice sounded a little hoarse to my ears.
He swayed us, two steps to my right, one step to my left. “Two, two, one,” he whispered. So far, so good. Next, he moved us around while we kept up with those two-two-one steps. Soon, I got the hang of it. Then he fancied it up again by pulling one of legs to the back during those steps, causing me to move to him, and my body bumped into his. Our chests and stomach touched, and I suddenly became very aware of the big, powerful male holding me.
A trickle of fear snaked up my spine and I went rigid, which made me miss the next step, and Gui, not noticing my sudden panic, halted, thinking I had tripped.
He chuckled. “That was pretty good for your first time.”
My cheeks heated and I forced myself to move, to stamp the panic down, to focus on the now, on the present. Nothing happened. It was just a silly dance between friends.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I took a step back. “Thanks.”
He lost the smile. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, forcing my face muscles to relax. I didn’t need to smile; I just had to look normal. Okay. “That was fun.” It really had been, until I crashed into him. Time to focus on the former. It had been fun, which was all I needed to think about now.
“That was nothing, I mean, compared to what we used to do.” He sighed, taking his seat back on the couch. “I miss it sometimes.”
Following his lead, I sat down too, just this time I took an armchair across the coffee table. “Would you go back to it?”
A knot appeared on his forehead. “I don’t think so. It was fun, I miss it, but now polo is more important to me. I won’t take time from polo.”
I looked at my hands. “You’re taking time from polo to help me out.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m using my free time to help you out.”
“Even worse!”
He chuckled. “Not really. It’s a nice way of spending my free time.”
I sucked in a long breath. Why, gosh, why did his words always hit me so hard?
Then, looking into his eyes, I had a clear vision. All of a sudden, an idea for my project popped in my head.
A smile spread across my face.
“What’s that smile for?” Gui asked.
“I think I figure out my school project.”
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees again. “Oh. Care to share?”
“Nope.” I shook my head like a defiant child. “Not yet.”
“Bah, you and this secret project. I hope you show it to me after you present it to your professors, or there’ll be unfinished business hanging over my head when I die.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Shut up.”
He laughed and I laughed too.
Chapter Sixteen
Ri turned twenty-eight during the week and Lauren had an entire day planned down to the second, just the two of them. But on Saturday, João Pedro wanted to throw him a party, so we all went to the Fernandeses’ ranch for a Brazilian-style barbecue.
I still wasn’t up for a party, but I thought it would be only the Fernandeses and my family, so I would be among know, familiar faces and would feel at home.
Wrong.
The Fernandeses had invited a lot of people. Many people from the club were there, and others I didn’t know or how they knew them.
“Wow, this place is packed,” I said, embracing Bia after I had parked my car along the entrance road, because there didn’t seem to have another free spot in their parking area.
“Tell me about it.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside the house. I waved and said hi to the people I knew as we walked past them. “The party has barely started and I’ve been all over, helping with serving drinks and appetizers. I wish we had hired some waiters.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
She brought me into the kitchen. “You’ll see.” Then she shoved a tray in my arms with what looked like a big plate of sausage and …
“What’s that flour thing?”
I heard his chuckled from behind me. Clutching the tray to my chest, I turned around and found Gui entering from one of the many archways. I sucked in a sharp breath. He looked great, as usual, in jeans, a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and cowboy boots. No hat this time. “What’s so funny?”
He halted before me, smiling. “That’s farofa. It’s a toasted cassava mixture we usually eat with our barbecue.”
“Oh,”
“Here.” Bia grabbed a toothpick, stabbed one through a piece of sausage, smeared it on the farofa, then raised to my mouth. “Try it.”
I stared at it for two more seconds before opening my mouth and letting her feed me. I chewed and … well, it was good. A little dry, but good. And a little spicy.
Gui raised an eyebrow at me. “Então?”
“It’s good.” I nodded. “Probably not something my mouth would water over, but good.”
Gui shook his head. “That’s not the right answer. You gotta say it’s one of the greatest things you ever ate.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re pushing it.”
Bia clasped my shoulders and steered me toward one of the doors leading to the porch on the back. “Just go around, say hi to people, and offer them the sausage and farofa.”
“How much are you paying?” I teased.
“I’ll give you a glass of coke afterward.” She winked.
I shook my head as I headed for the open door. There was music coming from outside and I knew the music. The rhythm sounded like the songs Gui had played for me last night. Dança folclórica gaúcha. I smiled, proud of myself for remembering.
Before I could cross the doorway, Gui took the tray from me. “I’ll do that.”
With a slight bow, he left the kitchen and walked along the big, wooden porch, stopping at every circle or group and offering them the appetizer, always with a smile and lots of words. He was like a social bee and everyone seemed to think he was a nice guy. A great guy.
I walked out the door and regretted it instantly. Reese was to the right with his teammates. Upon seeing me, he approached with a big smile.
“Hey, there,” he said. “I was wondering if you would show up. Nice to see you here.”
“Hi, Reese.” I smiled at him, though I wasn’t particularly pleased he had found me. “How have you been?”
“Good, good. Lots of practice. We have a big tournament in L.A. starting next week.”
“Oh yeah, so I heard.” Gui had mentioned the tournament last night when he was at my apartment.
“So, I was won—”
“Hil!” Hannah ran up the porch stairs and embraced me. “There you are.” She smiled at Reese. “Hi, Reese. Do you mind if I steal my sister for a minute?”
He looked unsure but smiled. “Go ahead.”
Hannah grabbed my hand and pulled me down the steps, into the crowded backyard. Again, I waved to the people I knew as we walked past them, until she pushed me into a group of people. Our group. Leo, Ri, Lauren, Pedro, Iris, and Garrett. My parents were to our left, talking to two couples from the club. And João Pedro and Agnes were a few yards to our right, around
what looked like a tall rectangle made of brick.
Hannah caught me staring. “That’s a Brazilian-style grill. They call it churrasqueira and it’s made of special bricks that don’t get damaged with the heat.”
“That looks like such an odd thing,” I whispered.
“I know. Some things are still odd to me.”
I glanced at her. “Thanks, by the way. For the rescue.”
“You’re welcome.” She nestled against Leo.
“What rescue?” Gui asked, stepping between Hannah and me, sans tray.
“Reese was all over Hil,” Hannah said. “Again.”
Gui raised one eyebrow at me. “Really?”
“Really, what?” Bia asked, joining our group. She was carrying another tray with what looked like … omg, those were chicken hearts. I had heard Brazilians liked eating chicken hearts, but I had never seen it before.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to steady my breathing so I wouldn’t gag.
“What’s with that face?” Bia asked.
“Hm …” I pointed to the tray on her hands. “That.”
Hannah gasped. “You’ve never had a chicken heart?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, you’re gonna love this one,” Gui said. He picked up a toothpick and got a big chicken heart with it.
“No way.” I pressed my hand over my mouth. “If I eat that, I’ll throw up.”
“No, you won’t,” Hannah said. “It’s good. I promise. You’ll like it.”
I shook my head again.
“Just try it, guria,” Leo said, joining the team. “It’s really good.”
They bugged me for another couple of minutes until I finally nodded my head, took the toothpick from Gui, and shoved the chicken heart in my mouth. I almost gagged right then, but the flavor exploded on my taste buds and my eyes widened as I chew. This was good. Really good. Much better than the farofa.
“So?” Gui asked. Everyone was watching me.
Instead of using words, I used my toothpick to get another chicken heart and put it in my mouth. Okay, even better the second time. I could get used to this.
“I think she likes it,” Bia said, smiling.
After chewing and swallowing, I said, “Yup. This one is really good.”
Breaking Through (The Breaking Series Book 3) Page 16