Page 28 of Wes

“I’d love that. Thanks.” My cheeks hurt with the silly grin that spreads them as I follow her lead out of the room.

We halt by her assistant’s desk and Maria places a hand on the glass top.

The young woman stops typing on the keyboard of her laptop to face her boss without a glance my way. I believe she’s embarrassed of her reaction when I got here, and she shrieked like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Trish, can you please show Mr. Baron around?”

“Sure!” She squeals – again – and stands to her feet to skirt the desk. “My pleasure.”

“Wait! What?” I snap my head to the left to meet Maria’s challenging expression.

Chin up in the air, she states, “Choices, remember? We must make good ones. Right now, my only goal is to save this place.” Her jaw loses a fraction of its tight set when she adds, “I need to focus. My kids depend on me keeping my eyes on the ball.”

I accept her reasoning. She’s not denying the attraction between us because that would be a lie. And body language doesn’t lie. Hers and mine made it clear how much we wanted each other every second of the night we spent together. I bet the same still holds true today. But I respect her position, despite the ache it causes me.

With a smile brighter than how I feel, I agree. “You’re right. I’m here to keep the little ones busy while you go do your thing.”

Trish takes me to multiple rooms, introducing me to volunteers, staff, and children. But my focus is elsewhere. My mind keeps spinning like a roulette. All because of the enigma that is Ms. Maria Augusto. The now familiar urge to know everything about her makes a comeback, taking control of my senses.

Everyone I meet at Welcoming Hills praises her quickness to accept them and her ability to make them feel at home. My interactions with the woman don’t match those descriptions, except for the time we spent fucking like rabbits.

What is it about me that brings the worst in her?

Unable to concentrate on anything else, I blurt, “How long have you worked with Maria? Would you say you know her well?”

The assistant shrugs, “I’ve known her since I came to Welcoming Hills nine years ago. I lost my parents at seventeen, which made adoption virtually impossible for me. Maria sheltered me, fed me, and gave me a job. She’s changed my life for the better.”

She checks the screen of her phone while we stroll down a corridor on the way to the next room she wants to show me.

Maybe this young woman is biased. She’s certainly partial. Still, I’ve got to ask, “You’ve ever seen Maria upset with anybody? Or even angry at people?”

Trish stops on her tracks and swings her head around to face me. “She’s strict and demanding with the kids, which makes sense considering her responsibilities toward them.”

“Definitely. But I meant the way she deals with adults.”

Her shoulders relax and she laughs. “She also demands the best from us, but she’s a sweetheart doing so.” She opens the door. “Welcome to my favorite place in the world. I spent many hours here as a kid and still do whenever I’ve got a chance.”

We enter a library worthy of the best universities. I gawk at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stocked with leather-bound volumes, paperbacks, and hardcovers. The dark wood frames the colorful books.

“I can see why.” I smile.

My eyes bounce from fiction to non-fiction titles as well as textbooks before noticing the rows of tables and chairs scattered around the room. Children of all ages sit around them reading, or working on laptops, or doing both.

When we exit, I go back to wondering why Maria treats me the way she does. I resist the temptation to grill her assistant, so I don’t put the young woman in the awkward position of having to discuss her benefactor. It wouldn’t be fair.

There’s only one person who holds the key to this mystery, so I follow Trish back to Maria’s office. Maybe I can charm the head-strong lady to talk about herself.

One can dream. I bite my bottom lip not to huff at the thought.

When we get to our destination, I notice the closed door, which is a departure from earlier. Maybe Maria’s open-door policy doesn’t apply when she wants to hide from me.

The manila envelope I brought sits on Trish’s table. She collects it and reads the attached sticky note.

“Oh, this is for you.” She hands me the thing with a sad smile. “Guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Hey, you think I can go in for just a bit? I didn’t want to leave without thanking Maria.”

She plops herself on the chair, nodding, “Yeah, sure. Let me announce you.”

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