Page 22 of Legal Trouble

The older woman seemed to search her mind for the right words. Emma wasn’t sure if it was age or a language barrier—maybe a bit of both—so she went with instinct.

“Yo hablo español,” said Emma, letting the other woman know that she didn’t need to translate.

Isadora smiled gratefully, tears falling, and asked if Emma would play songs from her husband’s book. Emma doubted a serial killer could have looked at that teary-eyed face and denied Isadora anything. So, for the next several hours, Emma gave an impromptu concert where tears and laughter flowed as readily as the strawberry mojitos.

“May I have this dance?”

Noah offered his hand to Emma as she exited the ladies’ room. He’d wanted to intercept her before anyone else in his family could. With her concert, she’d become the hit of the night, and everyone wanted to speak with her, to thank her, and basically, get between the two of them. While thankful for the acceptance, Noah just wanted her to himself for a while.

With a dazzling smile, she placed her hand in his. “Yes, but only if you promise to get me some fried ice cream. I overheard someone talking about it earlier, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“Then I’ll make sure you get some,” he said, swinging her into his arms and onto the makeshift dance floor. They swayed together to a sweet song about dreaming of the one you love. “You madeAbuelavery happy tonight. I can’t repay you for that.”

“I don’t want payment. Playing is its own reward. I’m simply glad it made her happy.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“I was able to sneak my first lesson when I was eight.”

“Sneak?”

“My father didn’t think paying for lessons was cost-effective, especially since he thought I was—” She glanced suddenly away, but not before he noted pain darkening her eyes. “So, uh, your parents seem happy and sweet together.”

Noah recognized a change of topic when it slapped him in the face, but he let it pass unchallenged. He wouldn’t, however, forget it. “They have a love story right out of an epic romance novel.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“According toPapá, he’d just returned home from his freshman year of college, and the first thing he wanted to do was go horseback riding. He’d no sooner gotten his horse all saddled up when he caught sight of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, standing in the shadow of his mother’s yellow roses. And when the woman smiled over at him, he says he felt like he’d been thrown from his horse. They’ve been together ever since.”

As a kid, Noah had loved that story, but as he’d grown into a cynical adult, he’d assumed some of it was an idealized exaggeration, his father looking at his past with rose-colored glasses, but then, Noah had seen Emma across the room at the gala. He might not have felt like he’d been thrown from a horse, but it was an apt comparison.

“How long has that been?” she asked.

“Close to forty years now.” He caught sight of his parents swaying together on the other side of the dance floor, smiling at each other as if no one else shared the room with them. “Papálearned to speak Spanish, both forMamáand so that, when he asked for her hand in marriage, he could speak to my grandfather in his native language as a sign of respect.”

“That’s so sweet, and they still look so in love. It’s good to see that kind of love alive and well.”

Especially for her, he figured. Pain had overtaken her features when she’d spoken of her father. The man had hurt her, and Noah wanted to know how.Mamáhad told him what Emma had said about not remembering her mother. Combine that tidbit with the fact her brother—and caregiver, as he’d also learned fromMamá—had been killed in combat, and it created an image that left a briquette burning in his stomach.

He contemplated his words. “Mamátold me what prompted her to take you into the music room, and I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you, I don’t know, want to talk or something.”

Her smile was sad, but grateful.

“You don’t have to,” he said quickly, “but I can see that your past hurts you. And I hate seeing pain on your beautiful face.”

She snapped her eyes shut and shook her head, but Noah didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what had caused the reaction.

“Why does it bother you when I say you’re beautiful?” he asked.

“Because I’m not, and when someone like you says differently, I—”

“Someone like me?” His spine stiffened.

“Someone so stupidly, ridiculously gorgeous.” Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes widened. “Oh crap. I can’t believe I said that out loud.” She tried to spin away, but he held her tight.

“Why does the way I look have any bearing on how you look? Or, more precisely, on how I think you look?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. It was a stupid thing to say. Forget I said it.”

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