Oh shit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Can I help you pick up your things?”
“Did you do this?” Her tone was accusatory.
“Go through your stuff? Of course not.”
“Did you see who did?”
“No. I wasn’t paying attention.”
She continued to glare at him and eyed him suspiciously. “Do you have my wires?”
“What wires?”
“The wires to my amp. For my axe.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, toward a folding utility wagon with wheels. Inside sat a cabinet amp and a guitar case.
“No. I don’t have your wires. My guitar’s acoustic.”
She cocked her jaw to the side while she studied him. “Stand up.”
He chuckled. She was a fiery little thing, filled with attitude. “I’m not standing up. I told you, I don’t have your wires, hon.”
“Hon?” She leaned back, outrage making her eyes widen. “Don’t call mehon. I’m not your honey.”
This chick had a temper, and her attitude both infuriated him and turned him on, equally. “Calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just an expression.”
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him before she stomped away and returned to her things. She snatched her duffle off the sand and threw it into the wagon, hastily rolled the blanket into a ball and tossed it on top, then stuck a floppy hat on her head and wheeled the wagon down the beach. Before she headed up the ramp that led to the boardwalk, she turned and looked at Lucas. He thought she was going to wave, but instead, she flipped him the finger.
He was stunned and stood there with his hand raised halfway, ready to return a wave that never came. His arm dropped to his side, and an amused laugh burst from his lips.
When Lucas returned from his walk, the delicious scent of Cuban spices hit him as soon as he entered the house. A home-cooked meal was exactly what he needed. It welcomed him like a warm crackling fire on a snowy winter night. He followed his nose toward the kitchen and found Papi at the stove. A chef by trade, Angel Garcia was as at home in the kitchen preparing an authentic meal for the family as he was mesmerizing 100,000 people on stage with his dynamic showmanship and powerful vocals.
Tessa assisted Papi, both wearing aprons with novelty sayings on the front. Papi’s said, “Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’”, and Tessa’s said, “Classy, Sassy, and A Bit Smart Assy”. They were Christmas presents from his mom. Papi and Tessa worked with precision, each concentrating on their own tasks but acting as a team. Tessa sampled Papi’s arroz con pollo, while he tasted one of her empanadas. With the same dark hair and eyes and tanned complexions, the two of them looked so much alike right now.
So far, Lucas also noted that fufú de plátano – Cuban mashed plantains – and yucca con mojo, were also on the menu, and he wondered if tonight’s feast was to ease his broken heart, which hurt a hell of a lot less than it did a few hours ago.
“Lucas, my boy!” Papi smiled as wide as his cheeks would allow. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I wasn’t, but I am now.” He put his nose in the air and inhaled the scent of garlic, onions and cilantro. “It smells great.”
“Thank you. We’ve been cooking like crazy. And look what Tessa made.” Papi moved to the counter and displayed a large cake as if he were presenting a prize on a game show. “Espresso dark chocolate cake with salted dulce de leche buttercream.”
It was Lucas’ favorite, and he knew his sister made it especially for him. It was beautifully decorated with scrolls and scallops. “Wow. Can I start with the cake?”
“Absolutely not,” Papi replied, playfully, before his expression slowly turned remorseful. “I’m so sorry about Holly. It must have been awful.”
“I’m over it,” Lucas lied, immediately glancing at Tessa.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I didn’t tell him. Dad did.”
There were no secrets in this family.
“I wasn’t prying into your business,” Papi said. “Your dad felt very badly about it.”
“Why should he feel bad?” Empathy stabbed at Lucas because he knew his father was innocent. It was all Holly. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Because he’s your dad. He loves you kids more than anything in the world. He feels very guilty.”
Lucas’ heart sank at the thought of his father taking responsibility for Holly’s behavior. “Where is he? I should talk to him.”
