Reckless Kiss

With a touch of her hand, she skips out the glass doors to the waiting Lyft. I lean against the window watching as she speeds away.

Tomorrow everything changes.

6

Angel

Beto slides a cast iron skillet with tomatoes, chopped onions, chilis, and cilantro over the fire, and as usual, he’s wearing a white tank and dark jeans. His feet are bare on the beige stone floor, and my thoughts slip to Deacon last night. Both of them are strong and stubborn, but my sexy man treats me with respect.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot.” My brother stands at a stainless-steel Viking range with a spatula in his hand, the morning sun streaming through an open window. “Grab some coffee, and we’ll talk over breakfast.”

He still isn’t asking.

He’s still giving me orders like he’s some drill sergeant, and I involuntarily enlisted in his army. Still, the delicious aroma makes my stomach growl. I decide to accept his olive branch, despite how it’s offered. He is my oldest and only sibling after all. I guess he’s used to bossing people around.

“Need any help?” I step over to the coffee machine, putting a mug on the tray and dropping a pod in the slot before hitting go.

He grins, nodding toward the counter. “You could hand me two tortillas.”

A plastic bag of flour tortillas sits beside a toaster oven, and I take out two while he slides the red sauce to the side of his large skillet and cracks two eggs, frying them quickly.

I’m on guard, but I welcome a chance to sit down and chat with King Triton. Maybe it’ll shed some light on what he’s doing here.

Coffee made, I wait as he assembles two tortillas on plates followed by the eggs and the tomato sauce.

“One for you.” He hands me a plate sprinkling cilantro over it before letting go. “And one for me. Let’s eat.”

I follow him to the small table situated before a set of open bay windows. Birds chirp, and we have a beautiful view across his massive back yard, leading down to the lake.

The small cottage is toward the back. A gardenia bush is planted at the southern corner, and when I went yesterday to set up my art supplies, it smelled familiar, like my mother’s spirit was there. I wanted to spend the afternoon painting, but I had to finish Lo’s dress.

Beto places a mug of coffee on the table beside his dish before sitting. His knees are spread wide, and he attacks his food like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. I watch him a moment before taking a bite of my breakfast. It’s really delicious.

“So I’m not a seamstress or a babysitter or a waitress, but you’re a cook?” I can’t resist after the way he acted yesterday.

He lifts his chin after shoveling a large bite of eggs into his mouth. “It’s possible I spoke too fast. You’re right. Family is different.”

My eyebrows almost meet my hairline. Did he just say I was right? This is not how I expected the day to begin.

Last night I went to bed with my insides all twisted. Between Deacon’s enthusiasm about meeting my family and the unpredictability of my brother, I barely slept a wink. I planned to at least open the subject of my boyfriend with him before tonight, before Lo’s party.

Hunger deserts me, and I push my eggs around on my plate. No time like the present.

“After Mamá died, she wanted me to come here to be with you. She wanted us to be a family.”

Beto shoves the remainder of his eggs onto his fork. He exhales a noise before putting it all in his mouth, and I continue.

“But you left less than a month after I arrived.” I’m holding my mug of coffee, watching him. “We never got to know each other.”

Leaning back in his chair, he glances out the window. The muscle in his jaw moves as he finishes his breakfast. Then he clears his throat and cuts those black eyes at me. “You were just a kid when you came here. I had to work and establish myself. Valeria was in a better position to take care of you than I was.”

“I was fifteen…” I hold my voice steady. I’m not trying to fight or shame him. I’m simply stating the facts. “You left, and I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I’ve been working.”

“Doing what?”

He shrugs, his gaze drifting to the window again. “Our uncle has many connections in Mexico. I helped him export produce, coffee, cocoa, furniture…”