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Jasmeka watched him. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure what foods you do and don’t like. If you have any allergies, let me know. I’ll be sure to avoid cooking those foods for the time being.”
He shrugged. “I’ll eat whatever you sit before me. I’m not picky.”
“That’s my boy.” Thiago belched and slapped an empty can down on the table. Then he burst out crying. “You’ll be the head, Miguel. David’s gone. He was too young. What will I do without him? You have to stay. This is where you belong. You can run the ranch instead of David.”
Antonio jumped to his feet. “I can run the ranch, Dad. He doesn’t know anything! He’s a fake.”
“Antonio!” Aunt Rosa sat her fork down.
Jasmeka had been about to get onto the boy herself before Aunt Rosa spoke up.
“You know I don’t like my dinner disturbed,” Aunt Rosa said. “You can argue later.”
Jasmeka blinked at her. That was all she was going to say? For real?
Miguel leaned away from the table, bringing his chair up onto two legs. He threw an arm over the back and stared into his brother’s reddening face. “You think I’m a fake Mexican, is that it?”
Antonio shrugged. “Aren’t you? Been in the big city all this time, away from the ranch. My big brother said you didn’t do anything the last time you were here, and Betsy was having trouble giving birth. You were scared to touch her.”
“Betsy’s one of the cows,” Jasmeka explained.
Miguel spared her a glance. “The last time I was here, I didn’t come to tend to animals, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about it. You’re what, fourteen?”
Antonio bristled. Jasmeka had the feeling Miguel knew how old his younger brothers were.
“Seventeen!”
“Oh, old enough to shave.” Miguel looked pointedly at Antonio’s smooth chin, pushing his brother farther away from what Jasmeka could see. Why didn’t he cut Antonio some slack? Then Miguel seemed to read her mind, and the irritation in his tone ebbed away. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of taking over this ranch—or staying.”
He stood and walked out of the room.
“Another beer,” Thiago commanded.
“Antonio, sit down and finish your dinner,” Aunt Rosa said as if there hadn’t just been a big blowout between her nephews. “Your food is getting cold.”
Antonio dropped into his seat but didn’t do more than mix his potatoes and gravy. Angel sat in apparent silent misery, and Jasmeka wondered how she could stir up some love among the siblings. Somehow, she had to try—for all their sakes.
Chapter 3
Miguel watched as Jasmeka’s hips swayed when she walked. Her high-pitched voice reached him as she greeted yet another neighbor. Hugs all around, kisses, she wasn’t ashamed to share affection with any and everyone. While there were times he saw her extreme sadness, at other times she seemed unable to keep herself from encouraging others even if it was just a smile. She was an odd woman, a kind he had never come across before. He found himself drawn to learn more about her, to talk to her. The fact was, he couldn’t stop looking at her either.
To get Jasmeka off his mind, he left her to the endless visitors and stepped toward the rear of the house. A verandah ran around the parameter of the house his great-grandfather built, and Miguel had slept on a hammock hanging there just as probably every other Torres had done during its time.
He popped a small block of cheese into his mouth, which he’d swiped from the tray earlier. Considering how quickly he could get out of town, he had to admit he was nervous about the funeral the next day.
If I keep my mind on my plan, I should be fine.
“You can’t fill up on cheese blocks.” Jasmeka appeared before him holding a plate with enough food on it to feed a small army. He didn’t doubt he could do it justice.
“Is your lot in life to feed people?” he demanded.
She grinned, but he saw sadness in the chocolate depths. Without thinking, he reached a hand toward her cheek rather than the plate. Two inches away from impact he froze. What was he thinking? He snatched the plate and dug in, pretending to be absorbed by the flavor. It wasn’t so hard given she was a fantastic cook.
“Cooking keeps my mind busy.” She fingered the apron she wore, probably not realizing how it accentuated her figure. At his thoughts, he frowned harder. Why the heck was he so obsessed with her body? He’d just broken things off with Carmen. Then again, maybe that was his way of coping. He never noticed before. Whenever he called, Carmen came over to his house.
“What?” Miguel realized he’d missed something Jasmeka said.
She sighed. “I said I don’t understand how you two didn’t get along?”
