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Sparrow
"Half an hour," Vale tells me as the truck crunches over the recently plowed driveway of his grandparents' property. "I already told them we can't stay long."
It's hard not to laugh a little at the nervousness in his voice.
"You sure you're okay this, Spare?" He pulls the truck up in front of four car garage and turns toward me before he even shuts the engine off. "I can tell them today's been too much for you. They'll understand."
"My high school Spanish didn't really cover most of the words I heard, but I'm pretty sure your grandmother is not going to be okay with us rescheduling." I let my hand rest lightly over the top of his where on the center console between us and I do my best not to think of how warm he is or how much bigger his hand is than mine and I definitely try not to think about what it would feel like between my legs.
I get a crooked smile from under the whiskers that I now know are much softer than they look.
Memory of my first real kiss comes flooding back and I'm glad the cab of the truck is dark enough that Vale can't see me blushing.
I didn't really expect him to kiss me back like that and I don't think I imagined the hardness pressing into my hip through my thick, winter coat.
"You're sure?" He asks, moving to engulf my hand in his.
"I've already met most of your family, Vale," I remind him.
Living in a community as small as Moonshine Ridge, you get to know just about everyone in town pretty fast.
"You haven't met my Abuela though." Vale's voice is wary with a hint of humor.
"But I've heard plenty about her," I point out, "Mable Hart's museum is just across the street from the tavern, remember."
"Don't believe anything that old woman says about my family," Vale gruffs, finally opening the door on his side to get out of the truck, "she's had it out for Abu and Alice since before I was born."
Vale comes around to open my door for me before I can get to it myself and I'm so lost in the sensation of his strong hand resting easily on my shoulder as he steers me around the side of the house to the door that leads direction to the kitchen from the back patio that for just a moment, I forget it's all fake.
* * *
Vale
Two hours into the evening and I've forgotten why I was so determined to get Sparrow out here in a hurry. It's obvious she loves my family and I knew they'd love her. The problem is that it's too easy to see her here forever. Too easy to watch her laughing with my baby sister, too easy to watch my brothers teasing her about her bad taste in men.
"Seriously, Sparrow," Glen jokes, "if we'd known you were into grumpy old mountain men, we'd have set you up with Howard Smalls."
The room roars with laughter at either my expense or Howard's, I'm not sure, but even I'm smiling. Because Sparrow is curled up beside me on the old love-seat sofa in the TV room where the wood stove is blazing hot enough that the French doors to the patio are cracked open a few inches, and she's got her free hand resting on my thigh just like we do this every night.
Her other hand is wrapped around a glass tumbler that my mother is currently refilling with a concoction she's calling a "horchata margarita" which I refuse to taste even though my little bird tells me it's pretty good.
"I can't believe you were going to put a ring on a woman's finger before you even brought her home to meet your family. I thought I raised you better than that, Vale Diaz." Mama tsks at me as she pats Sparrow's hand and carries the pitcher back to the kitchen.
Oh yeah, I'm in deep shit for that too-- bringing home a proper fiancée without a ring on her hand. Fortunately, that was an easy one to cover; as the oldest in the family, I get first dibs on my great, great, great grandmother Rebecca's ring which Abuela was eager to hand over to me in private as soon as she had a chance to give her approval to my choice in women.
Now the tiny box in my pocket is a harsh reminder of the situation I'm in, and thoughts of grandma Rebecca's original engagement ring, fashioned from gold that was mined from our own family claim here on the ridge back in the eighteen hundreds, sparkling on the same hand that Sparrow has resting over the denim across my thigh right now have me thinking crazy.
Of course, I'll keep the family heirloom safe and return it to Abu so she can hand it down to Mesa or Meadow or whichever one of us kids actually finds someone willing to marry into this crazy family.
"Las perras robaron las cabras!"
My grandmother bursts through the patio doors with what has to be the most impressive collection of curses that has ever been strung together in a single breath.
While Abu continues to swear, all eyes turn to my youngest sister, Terra, who had been out to the barn to help put the goats to bed for the night.
"They're gone," Terra explains, "all of them."
My grandfather already has Deputy Hawkins on the phone, Terra's yelling at Glen that the goats did not "just get out" of the barn, and in the background, I can hear my grandmother on the phone with her friend, Alice McAllister talking about some sort of revenge plot that might get them arrested-- again.
