Page 5 of Ghostridden
She cocked her head, her dark eyes as bright as a bird’s. “What else is money for but to help family?”
I wouldn’t know. My own folks hadn’t had much, since my dad had left Syria as a virtual refugee and my mom was from midwestern farmer rootstock. They’d left enough to cover their funerals, but not much else other than memories of a happy childhood.
Which not everyone could claim, so I shouldn’t complain.
“That’s very generous of you.”
She waved my words away. “Bah. I’m hisabuela. What else would I do with the money? My house is my own. I have all that I need.” She leaned down to peer into Gil’s carrier. “Who is this handsomegatito?”
Gatito? I knew enough Spanish to know that meant little cat. Gil had never qualified as agatito. He’d been a bruiser even as a kitten. “This is Gilgamesh. Gil.” When she extended a finger toward the mesh door, I put up a hand. “Careful. He can be skittish”—read homicidal—“with strangers, and he’s pretty grumpy after a long car ride.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me. Not such a lovely boy.” She held her finger close enough to the grill that Gil would be able to swipe it with a ginger paw with no trouble, but instead, he poked his nose out and dabbed at her fingertip. And purred.
Well, I’ll be damned.
“Either you have a magic touch, or he’s trying to ingratiate himself with our new neighbors.”
A warm chuckle sounded from behind me. “Tia Sofia can charm the birds from the trees.”
“Enrique!” she chided. “Don’t tease. This is our new neighbor.” She stood, brushed her hands down her apron, and then patted her braids. “Hisgatitois named Gilgamesh, but he hasn’t told me his own name yet.”
I slapped my forehead. “D’oh! Sorry.” I took a step backward so I could turn halfway to take in the new arrival as well as Sofia.“I’m…” My mouth dried and I couldn’t seem to force my own name past my lips.
Because the man gazing at me with his godmother’s round face and sunny smile was just about the cutest guy I’d ever seen. Not classically handsome—that would be Carson, in the non-scarecrow flesh—or what the club boys would call gorgeous, but just so…appealing.
Maybe it was his lovely skin, a couple of shades darker than mine turned when I managed to get more than a minute or two of sun. Maybe it was the way his shiny black hair fell over his wide forehead. Maybe it was the way his deep brown eyes crinkled at the corners with that killer smile.
Or maybe it was the friendliness that practically radiated from him, just as it did from his godmother.
Youcould charm me out of anything, including my pants.
But given my track record lately, I reminded myself sternly that I could look but not touch. Other than to shake hands, of course, because that was totally legit.
He shifted an enormous toolbox from his right hand to his left and took my offered hand, the calluses on his palm a nice abrasion against my more boring one.
Yes, I said boring, and I meant boring. Spending all your time pounding a keyboard doesn’t create fascinating, idiosyncratic landmarks on your skin like other types of work, but I could appreciate friction when it presented itself.
Enrique lifted one eyebrow. “You are…?”
I closed my mouth, teeth clicking. “Right. Sorry. I’m Maz. Amani. Maz Amani.”
“Nice to meet you, Maz Amani. You can call me Ricky.” He turned to his godmother. “Tia, you haven’t been in the garden again, have you?”
She batted at his very nice biceps. “What do I have a garden for if not to go in?”
“You have a garden so your nephew can take care of it for you. A stroll, nothing more. And did you take your pills this morning?”
She frowned at him, but it was obviously not a serious frown. Not like the kind Greg could scare up for nothing more than a misplaced throw pillow or the wrong brand of merlot.
“Yes, but doctors don’t know everything. A little time in my garden will do me more good than all the pills in the world.”
“Tia,” he said, lowering his chin to give her a stern look. “You mustn’t overdo it.”
“I’m not. I’m not, I promise.” Her smile dawned again. “I have to be well when Guillermo comes home this summer.”
I thought I caught a shadow chasing across Enrique’s—Ricky’s—face, but figured I must be mistaken because his grin followed so quickly. “Exactly.”
“I’ll bring you boys some iced tea, and a little treat for thegatito.” She bustled away toward her house.
