Page 13 of Kilo's Edge

“Let me know if you end up bringing anything back.”

I gave him a short wave and headed around the cab to get into the driver’s seat.

“I mean it!”

This time I waved with my middle finger as I drove off. Fuck, I loved my brothers. Each and every one of the crazy bastards.

CHAPTER 6

Camila

“Mama. What are you doing?”

She glared at me over her shoulder, but didn’t step away from the window. She held the curtain back the barest inch so she could peek out. “What’shedoing out there?”

I sighed and stepped in close, my eyes widening when I saw Kilo, sans shirt, in our backyard. It was still early in the morning, but he was whistling as he worked, sweat tracking a trail down his chest. My eyes followed a drop as it slid down over those abs, wishing for a moment I could trace that drop. “It looks like he’s fixing our window,” I told her, keeping my voice down so he didn’t overhear us. We were in the kitchen, while he was fixing the window in our dining room, but it wasn’t that big of a house and it was an open concept, and sound carried when there was no glass to keep the outside sectioned off.

He was fixing our window. If I didn’t already find the man attractive, that would have cinched it right there. He was gorgeous, competent, and kind. Not to mention that smile that he flashed every chance he got. A man couldn’t be an abusive jerk if he was smiling every time you saw him. I was pretty sure it was a statistical improbability.

“Maybe you should go thank him,” I told her when she scowled at my answer. That made her glare harder at me. “I’ve been trying for three days to getanyoneto call us back to fix that window,” I reminded her. “He doesn’thaveto help us. I didn’t even ask him, Mama.”

Her shoulders loosened, the tension draining out of her. She was a kind and caring woman, but the last four years had turned her suspicious and wary. And the same had happened to Carmen and me. It wasn’t her fault, any of our faults, but I didn’t want to be that way and I knew it was starting to get worse. “You’re right,” she replied.

I’d learned my manners from her. I knew this would prompt her to be nicer to our neighbor. Sitting at the table, I watched as she made fresh lemonade. My smile was wide as she placed the pitcher in the fridge, then put a full glass with ice on a serving tray and swept past me in a huff.

She didn’t want to be nice. She wanted to hide. We’d been hiding for too long. But it seemed never ending. Every time we started to relax, they found us…

Shaking off the impending sense of doom, I shoved off my chair and busied myself. I didn’t like thinking back over the last four years. I began the prep for tonight’s dinner. I was off work today, those overtime hours hadn’t been scheduled yet, and I needed something to keep my mind busy.

It helped that I was able to peek out the window above the sink and watch as my mother handed the lemonade over to Kilo. His muscles bunched as he set his hammer down and tookthe glass from her. My eyes trailed down over tanned muscles and tattoos. I really just wanted Mama to feel more comfortable around him. I knew she was right the other night when she told me I couldn’t get involved with him. It wasn’t fair to drag anyone into the mess we were in. But I wanted to. I liked the way he smiled at me. The way his pretty brown eyes sparkled as he teased me.

Turning away from the window, I began to chop vegetables on our kitchen island. When I heard shuffling from behind me, I asked, “Was that so hard?” in a teasing tone.

When Mama didn’t answer, I glanced over my shoulder and froze. Kilo was leaning against the wall, watching me as he held his glass. “Oh-”

“Your mom said to bring this in when I was done,” he said with a grin.

I looked down at the half full glass and my brows rose. “You’re finished?” Stepping forward, I went to take his glass.

He jerked it away, narrowing his eyes in a mock glare. “Not even close. This lemonade is too good to waste.”

My lips lifted involuntarily. He was a goofball. He always seemed to be teasing me whenever we spoke. “Then why did you bring it in here?”

He shrugged those muscular shoulders. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Figured I’d better check in.”

It wasn’t his duty to check in on me. Or to fix our window. Yet, here he was. Going to the fridge, I pulled the pitcher out and met his eyes as I filled his glass. “Thank you.”

“Pretty sure I’m supposed to be saying that to you,” he replied, motioning to his glass.

“For the window,” I clarified, my cheeks heating. Why was I always blushing and tongue tied around him?

“Oh, it’s no trouble.”

He was taking time away from his business to fix up our house. And I hadn’t even had to ask. Or pay. “If you let me know how much everything costs, I can-”

“Dinner,” he replied, before I could finish.

I looked over my shoulder at the pot on the stove. “I’m making pozole,” I told him.

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