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Something about this situation has taken a definite turn for the interesting. “Well, in that case, okay,” I agree. After shooting a text to my dad letting him know I’m staying at a friend’s, I wait for Vincente to fetch me something to wear so I can throw my clothes in the washing machine. Ordinarily I wouldn’t be so precious about it, but I’d worn athletic shorts and a tank top with a sports bra, and we got sweaty walking on the beach. If we are going to his parents’ tomorrow I’d like to have clean, sweat-free clothes.
Now, some part of my mind had imagined Vincente would provide me with something sexy, like a pair of his boxers and a button-up shirt.
Clearly, we are not on the same page.
I can’t help giggling as I pull on the basketball shorts and enormous t-shirt. He even brought me a hoodie, but I’m already draped in enough fabric for two of me.
When I emerge from the guest room, I’m holding the shorts by the waistband to keep them from falling down. “I’m not sure these are going to work.”
Vincente chuckles. “Here, there’s a drawstring inside. That’s why I picked these, so you can tighten them.” He pulls the strings out and cinches the waist, so the shorts stay on my hips. “There you go,” he grins at his handiwork. “Perfect fit.”
“Thank you.” I let the giant shirt fall back in place. The short sleeves go past my elbows and the shirt is nearly as long as the dress I wore last night. Combined with the shorts that reach mid-calf, I’m better covered than a quaker at a square dance.
I find myself in an unusual position tonight. Even though I’ve obviously been through a lot and Vincente is being impressively respectful of that, part of me is also desperate to get him naked and take my mind off it.
As promised, he orders in enough food for six, and we gorge on Chinese food, streaming back-to-back episodes of Game of Thones, starting from episode one. Vincente admits he started reading the book because he watched the series and loved it, and while I give him a little crap for being a TV fanboy, I have to give him credit for actually reading the books, no matter which order it came in.
Sure enough, he has all the amenities I could need, and when he gives me the option to sleep with him or use the guest room, I wonder if there’s something implied in the choice. Deciding to be bold, I choose his bed, and I even slide out of the enormous shorts before we get under the covers.
To my absolute surprise, Vincente kisses me slowly, tenderly, as if he’s enjoying every tiny stroke of my tongue. No hint of the passionate, possessive kisses from last time.
And he makes absolutely zero attempts to go further. His hands smooth over my back and my butt, but he doesn’t press the advantage, and while some part of me is disappointed and contemplates making my own move, I realize it speaks mountains about the man that he is.
I also realize: rather than using sex as a distraction from my problems, I am here because I really need to feel safe, and that is all he’s offered me.
So, after our tender make-out session, I snuggle into his chest and drift off contentedly with Vincente’s warm, protective arms wrapped around me.
Chapter27
Sunday I wake early, likely because of the excessive amount of resting we did yesterday. Vincente is already up, and a faint whiff of coffee reaches my nose, along with what sounds like whistling.
I retrieve the oversized shorts from the floor, then discard them and just stick with my dress-sized shirt. When I emerge from the bedroom, I discover I’m right: Vincente is whistling happily, which seems incredibly un-Vincente-like. He’s already made coffee, and now he’s starting on breakfast.
Padding into the kitchen, I approach him and am rewarded with a kiss on top of my head and a ‘good morning’ before he nudges me toward the counter. “Your coffee’s up there,” he grins. “try to tell me Starbucks is better.”
“I dunno, I’m really attached to my caramel syrup,” I tease, settling onto the stool. “But this is pretty good, too.”
Vincente grins and goes back to his cooking. Our breakfast is comfortable, and when we leave for his parent’s house, I’m relaxed.
It turns out Vincente has a Porsche like Sandro, but his is a Cayenne, the SUV version. Our ride north is short and comfortable, and I finally feel at peace.
Surely, the worst is behind me now.
I really should have known better.
Vincente Senior and Alicia greet me with nearly as much enthusiasm as their sons, and I already feel like family. Perhaps not immediate family, but maybe more like a cousin who’s growing closer.
Then the actual cousins arrive, and it all goes to hell.
First Vincente Senior disappears into the house with Emiliano and Manuel while the rest of us have lunch on the patio. When he comes back out, his manner is markedly colder to me than it ever has been before. The guys look at him curiously, but don’t say a word. Sandro’s hand rests on my knee for comfort, and Elian holds my hand.
Emiliano and Manuel never reappear, so I assume they’ve gone, which is a small blessing. I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I need to head home soon; I want to get back before my dad leaves so he can be there when my mom and I have our chat. He’s already called ahead and told the station he’s flexing a few hours for a family issue.
I don’t see my attacker coming until I’m already pinned against a wall, just out of view of the patio. His forearm braces against my chest, and he uses his weight to hold me in place.
“So nice to see you again, SloaneKing,” Manuel hisses. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out who you really are?”
Despite my racing heart, I do my best to appear unfazed. “Congratulations, you finally learned my last name. In a plot twist that will surprise absolutely no one, everyone here already knows who I am.”
