Page 43 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

“I bet Camila has,” Beto said. “I helped her take dinner upstairs for them. I’m pretty sure they’re having some much-needed mother-daughter time.”

“Well, I haven’t heard fireworks yet so maybe not.” Lola nervously glanced at the ceiling as if expecting to hear screaming at any moment.

“Or maybe she’s letting the rage simmer and marinate overnight,” Beto warned.

God help that school counselor if that was true.

Chapter Thirteen

“Where are you sneaking off to?”

Startled by Steve’s voice, Dina yelped and clutched her purse to her chest. She glared at him as he stepped out of the shadows of the formal dining room. “What is wrong with you? Why are you lurking like a ghoul?”

“I’m not lurking. I’m enjoying a hot cup of coffee while watching those skinny little chicken birds caterwauling outside that front window.”

“Skinny chicken birds?” Dina had to see this for herself. She crossed the hallway and walked straight to the tall windows. She searched for the birds he’d described and found them hopping around the branches of a plumeria tree. “Those?”

“Yeah. Right there. The ones making all that racket.” Steve appeared behind her, his chest nearly touching her back. He pointed out the birds in question, his arm hovering over her shoulder. The woodsy manly scent of him drove her crazy, andshe wanted so badly to lean back against his hard body and beg him to hold her.

“Chachalacas,” she finally managed to utter. “They’re noisy in the mornings and evenings. I don’t know what kind exactly. You’d have to ask Lola. She knows all the species of birds and flowers and trees and grass and animals around here.”

“Chachalacas?” Steve repeated dubiously. “That sounds like some made-up word my friend Pancho would have told me when we were kids so he could make fun of me later.” Steve stepped beside her and grinned down at her. “When we were seven, he convinced me the actual, real Spanish word for a Mexican banana wasplatanacas. I didn’t live that down until high school.”

Dina tried not to laugh. She really did, but it was too hard. She could just imagine a scrawny, gangly Steve proudly busting out that goofy word to prove he could speak Spanish. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.” She covered her mouth. “I’m sure that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry. I got him back for it.” Steve smiled fondly. “He married my cousin. That’s punishment enough.”

“That’s mean!”

“When you meet Valerie, you’ll understand.”

When? Not if.The idea of meeting his family shouldn’t have thrilled her but it did.

“I think you’ll like my sister, though,” Steve continued, his gaze fixed on the window and the birds outside. He looked calm and cool, but she suspected he was a nervous mess on the inside.

Just like me.

“You want me to meet your family?”

“I met yours. Seems only fair.”

“I guess,” she said uncertainly.

“Your mom and mine would get on well. Lola took me to see your mom’s stables and horses. My mother has raised quarter horses for most of her life.”

“So, you’re a ranch kid?”

“Yeah. I think Camila would like my family’s ranch.”

“Probably not,” Dina gently disagreed. “She was thrown from a horse when she was six and never got back in the saddle.”

“I bet my sister can get her up on a horse and have her riding like a pro in weekend.”

“A pro what?”

“Barrel racer,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Oh, absolutely not! That’s all I need. My daughter learning how to ride hell for leather on a beast of a horse!”

---