Page 139 of Wild Catch
“Are you sure we shouldn’t bring something?” I inquire to change the topic.
“Babe, no. My mom is going to have a whole feast ready. We’ll go back to Orlando weighing fifty pounds more each.”
“But not even a present?”
“Nah, she’s pretty chill. What you need to brace yourself for is the inquisition.”
We’re rolling down the street so I can only glimpse at her for a second. “The what?”
Rose offers me a sneaky smile and refuses to say anything further on the topic. I’m still trying to pry some hints when we pull into the gated parking lot and retrieve our beach bags, and even as I follow her on the way to the beach. She cleverly ignores me by calling her mom on the phone to tell her we have arrived and are looking for her.
There’s no need, though. I spot the hair right away. Turns out Rose gets her incredible curls from her mother.
“Mija!” The woman drops a pair of tongs on a little table by a grill, which is the center of a whole array of stuff—beach chairs, a massive umbrella, towels, floaters, two coolers.
Just how did she haul all this by herself?
I hang back as the two women take off and meet in a tight embrace that threatens with toppling them over. Where Rose is only in a bikini top and short jean shorts—emphasis onshort—her mom is in some sort of flowy tunic, but also in ‘Murica motif.
They kiss each other’s cheeks with loud smacks. Mrs. Mena holds her daughter’s face to inspect her, fixes up her daughter’s hair, and declares, “Mija, you’re too skinny. I’m glad I get to feed you.”
My lips twitch. What she doesn’t know is that I’ve been feeding Rose for about a month now, and she’s very well nourished. The owners of our fave Korean restaurant and the Venezuelan food truck would agree.
“I brought another mouth to feed,” Rose declares, stepping aside to motion at me. “Mom, meet my boyfriend, Logan Kim. Logan, meet my mom, Diana Mena.”
I drop our bags in the sand and wipe my hand with my trunks before offering it to her. “Very happy to meet you, Mrs. Mena.”
She glances at my hand and doesn’t take it. Instead, she does a thorough scan from my hair—longer than most guys keep it—to the tattoos, and all the way down to my toes buried in the hot sand. When it’s clear that she’s not going to shake my hand, I lower it to my side.
Mrs. Mena turns to her daughter and blinks fast. “You just told me you got a good boyfriend, not that you won the lottery.”
Rose barks a laugh.
Now grinning, Mrs. Mena approaches me and I raise my hand again. But she keeps going and instead gives me a hug. It’s one of those that force me to bend forward, and she even pats my back.
“Just call me Diana,” she says, pulling away and holding me at arm’s length. “And you also need some more food. I can see your ribs, boy!”
“Those aren’t ribs, Ma. Those are muscles.”
“Well, muscles also need food, right?” The woman chuckles. “Tell me, is there anything you don’t eat?”
I answer right away, “No sugar or alcohol because I’m still in the middle of the season. Everything else is game.”
“Got it. Sit tight, the hot dogs are almost done.”
Rose motions at me to join her and she guides us under the umbrella. “Shouldn’t we help?” I whisper.
“Trust me, feeding us is her love language. Best we let her enjoy it.” Rose winks at me and pops her shorts button open.
I lose track of the conversation altogether, just watching avidly as she slides them down her thighs. As far as bikini bottoms go, this one is tame—high waisted and covering everything—but just the contour of her body gets my heart pumping.
I don’t think salivating over her daughter in front of her would be the best introduction to Diana, so I force myself to just sit beside Rose and stare at her mother.
“So, Logan…” Diana says clearly over the noise from the families around us, the crashing waves, or the birds flying overhead.
“Here we go,” Rose mumbles in my ear, again grabbing my arm and hugging it against her chest. No complaints from me.
“Yes?” I prompt her mom.
