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I lifted it and saw Jake’s name.
I shut my eyes and instead of annoyance, I got a flash of Jake’s crinkles framing his eyes behind his amber aviator sunglasses. No part of him reminded me of the boy I’d left behind all those years ago. That Jake was long, lanky, sweet—and now?
Now my nipples tightened at the memory of him holding me against his very wide, very muscular chest.
I clutched my phone as it buzzed again and covered my face with my arm.
“Get up, mija.”
I groaned and was very glad I was still under my blanket. “Mami, knock.”
“I birthed you, I don’t care if you’re naked.” Bonnie Ramos stood in the doorway, her dark hair piled up on her head. Her latest obsession was yoga, including all the gear. Today’
s ensemble included llamas over a bright purple background. A racerback tank that showed way too much boob for my brain to handle and a perfect face of makeup completed the look. “Get up. You’ve been lounging long enough.”
I hadn’t lounged in probably three years, but she was right.
I took a quick peek at Jake’s text.
Meet me at the bar, Freckles. I have some news.
I flung back my covers.
My mother’s eyebrow arched. “And what on that phone got you out of bed so fast? I’ve been calling for you for an hour.”
I grabbed my overnighter and kissed her on the cheek as I flew by. “Incentive, Mami.”
She followed me down the hall. “And who might have given you such incentive?”
I paused outside the bathroom door, dropping my bag before I pointed at her. “No.”
“What?”
She acted so innocent, but I knew her far too well. “It’s not like that. I’m going to the bar.”
She put her hands on her hips. “To see Jacob Mills?”
“No. Well, yes, Jake will be there.” I shook back my hair and mirrored her stance. “He’s the fire code chief. I’m meeting him so I can get the bar sold and get back to the city. Nothing more, nothing less.”
She shrugged. “If you say so, mija.” She turned on her heel. “I made some of your fancy coffee.”
“Don’t get any ideas about me and Jake,” I called after her.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said and disappeared around the corner and down the stairs.
I kicked my bag into the bathroom and stripped. I’d walked right into that trap. I knew better and still did it. My bloodline was mostly Spanish and Italian. Many of my family members, extended and otherwise, saw a single woman as a project to tackle. Being the first of us kids to marry and divorce made me a double target.
Their enduring disappointment and my advanced age—their words, not mine—made for extra heaping doses of matchmaking. I got at least three phone calls a week asking about my status and when I was giving my parents a grandbaby.
I pinned up my hair under a plastic cap and climbed into the shower. I slid a hand over my flat belly as I soaped up. I’d always assumed I’d have a child one day, but my priorities had shifted when Danny’s focus zeroed in on work. Sure, I wanted a family, but I didn’t want to be the only one willing to make sacrifices. So, I’d pushed thoughts of children down.
Being home with my family and seeing the baby boom taking over the town was just messing with my head. Lots of things were.
I quickly shaved since my dark hair made quick daily maintenance preferable to letting things go. Then I raided my sister Frankie’s closet since I’d only packed enough to get through the weekend. She was a little more athletic than I was, but one of her old sundresses would do in a pinch. Besides, she probably hadn’t seen this dress since high school, so I should be safe from her wrath.
That and she lived in Hell’s Kitchen these days.
I tugged at the front of the dress, hoping to stretch it a little. Instead, the center button kept popping. “Dammit,” I muttered under my breath.
