Page 40 of Desolation

She stares at me like I asked her if the sky was blue. “She’s Latina. That woman cooks for everyone. And if there are only four people around she will cook enough for twelve. My mama’s cooking is the best, I learned from the best, but damn, these tacos,” she licks her fingers, “she can never know about these tacos.”

“You like cooking too?”

She nods as she grabs an al pastor taco off the plate. “It’s in my blood. I love cooking for my family and parties of thirty people. I hope one day that my gi—ugh, girlfriends can cook as good as me.”

From the look on her face I know that wasn’t what she planned on saying. I don’t want to pry and I won’t because I see a sad smile come over her face that she tries to play off as genuine but I can tell it’s not. “I’m sure if you teach them, they will.”

“You haven’t even tried my food so how do you know it will be worth teaching anyone?”

“I guess you’ll have to make me dinner then.”

She opens her mouth like she is going to say something but shuts it. She walked into that one. She sucks down a large gulp of her margarita before devouring another taco. A bit of guac sits on the corner of her mouth and I lean over the table and wipe it off with my thumb. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to make any moves on you when you make me dinner.”

I wink as I suck my thumb into my mouth, licking off the guacamole.

She stares at me dumbfounded and I know I left her speechless.

“What’s your favorite part about Chicago?” I ask, changing the subject.

She takes a napkin to her face before sipping her drink. “Umm, my family I guess. I have a big one, my brothers, my cousins, all my aunts and uncles, my abuelo and abuelitas. I find comfort in having so many people around.”

I smile at that. I wish I had a family like that when I was growing up. But my dad left when I was a baby, my stepdad was abusive, and mom was either on drugs or drunk. I’ve never had a tight-knit family. I barely knew my uncle and cousins. The only person I had was Ryder. At least we were close and I understood what family should be like.

He has that now. A family of his own. And not just his wife but her siblings and their families and the crazy group of friends they love like family. It hurts to know I’ll never have that, never be able to let anyone in the way Ryder has.

“That must be nice.”

“It’s crazy actually. Everyone tries to be louder than the others. My cousins are constantly fighting. It’s obnoxious and can make you lose your mind but I love it.”

I study her as she speaks and see a longing in her eyes like it’s been a long time since she’s had that. Maybe she has been in San Diego for longer than I thought or that she has just spent her time traveling and is getting home sick.

She leads the conversation away from her family and we talk about our favorite sports teams, hers all Chicago teams, baseball, football, hockey, she watches it all. I give her shit for the lousy football team she loves but she makes fun of me for my love of the Raiders. I also find out she hates working out and despises fishing. We are complete opposites but somehow there is a pull between us I can’t explain.

When we finish dinner I invite her for a walk along the beach. She reluctantly agrees but as our feet touch the cool water, I can see her relax. We don’t talk as we walk along the water, shoes in hand. I have the urge to grab her hand but keep my hands to myself. This woman is feisty, sassy, and sexy as hell but I know she doesn’t want me close.

“I’ve always loved the water,” she says quietly as she comes to a stop, looking out over the water as the sun barely crests the horizon. “When I was a kid I wanted to be a marine biologist, move here actually and go to school.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t think it was practical.”

“Where did you end up going to school?”

She bites her lip, like she is looking for an answer. “I—ugh, I didn’t.”

I find it odd. For someone who seems to have drive and purpose, who loves to volunteer, how she just decided not to go to college. She is so well spoken when her Latina side isn’t out, I find it hard to believe she just gave up.

She speaks before I can answer. “I guess I let my dreams die when shit got rough. And believe me shit got rough a lot when you grew up on the west side of Chicago.”

“Do you ever think you’ll go?”

“I’m old, Landon. That dream is long gone.”

I step in front of her, blocking her view of the ocean as I look down into her eyes. “You aren’t old.”

She lets out a breath, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “I’m well past my prime.”

I step closer to her. “How old are you?”

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