Page 18 of Naughty and Nice
Nick’s eyebrows shot upward as he extended his hand. “Let’s eat.”
Ignoring Celeste’s wide eyes at Nick’s invitation, I lifted my hand to his. The warmth of his touch enveloped my fingers as I followed. On the small table near my desk was a bona fide picnic basket. Once inside the office, Nick closed the door.
I spun at the sound of the mechanism. “Do you think that’s wise?”
Nick smirked. “If it keeps Celeste and Reina out, yes.”
“The residents love gossip. Do you want your father to hear about his son Lieutenant Ruiz and his aunt?”
Nick’s smile dimmed. “Stop saying that. You’re not my aunt. You were briefly married to my uncle. That’s a different thing. Besides, you’ve been a widow longer than you were a wife.”
“Over twice as long.”
Nick took a step toward me and reached for my hands. “No more aunt/nephew discussion.” He lifted my hands to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles. “You’re cold.”
The sadness I’d tried to hide from the residents surfaced. My eyes flooded with tears and the giant ball of emotion in my throat came up with a ragged sob. “Renata’s gone too,” I managed to say.
Nick released my hands and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me, and pulling me closer. My cheek rested against the soft cotton of his shirt covering his hard chest. The steady beat of his heart hammered in my ear, easing the pounding in my temples. Uncontrollably, my shoulders quaked as tears for both José and Renata coated my cheeks.
Nick didn’t push or offer platitudes. Instead, he simply held me until my tears ran out.
I pushed away from him and reached for a tissue. “God, I’m sorry, Nick.” At least the pressure behind my temples had lessened.
“For what?”
A snicker bubbled from my throat. “I don’t know, the wet spot on your shirt. Crying like a baby over something I can’t control.” I spun and slapped my hands against my thighs. “For having a breakdown.”
“For being honest with me.” His baritone words reverberated through my thoughts.
Honest.
When was I allowed to be honest?
I was to be strong, comforting, and reliable.
Honest wasn’t an adjective for who I was.
I wiped my eyes and nose. “I’m sure I look like a total mess.”
Nick shook his head. The longer hair on the top of his head swayed. “You’re beautiful. I told you that last night.”
Unable to stay under his intense stare, I turned to the table and opened the picnic basket. “What did Viviana prepare?”
Nick was now behind me, the warmth of his body radiating to my back. “She said there’s a roast beef torta and a ham torta.” He reached around me and pulled two wrapped sandwiches from the basket.
“Do you think she makes her own bolillo?” The crusty white bread looked homemade.
“Viviana?” he replied with a smirk. “I’m sure she doesn’t use store-bought bread for el Patrón.”
We distributed the food. It was as if she’d packed a magic basket the way the food continued to materialize. “I’ll never eat this much.”
“Eat what you can.”
“My father said an appetite on a woman is unbecoming.”
Nick’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t think I’ve met your father, but when I do, I’ll need someone to remind me not to kill him.”
Coughing, I almost choked on the delicious ham, avocado, onion, and cheese torta. “Yeah, if you meet him, please don’t do that.”
