Page 30 of Coulda

He drove the motorcycle through the quiet neighborhood. Everyone they passed waved hello, and several called Rio’s name in greeting. When he pulled into the driveway of decidedly the residence Amber would not call a condo, she scrambled off the bike to look at him with her hands on her hips.

What is going on here?

“Let me put this in the garage and I’ll answer all your questions.”

Unbuckling her helmet, Amber worked very hard not to tap her foot in annoyance as Rio turned the bike around and backed it into the garage next to a very expensive sports car. She paced forward to return it to him as he stepped off the bike. Within seconds, he wrapped an arm around her waist and steered her inside.

“Are you kidding me? What’s going on here, Rio? Did you rob a bank?” she demanded.

“It appears that you made some assumptions about the young man working as a bartender at your dad’s establishment,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Come on. Let me get you something to drink. I’m always thirsty after a ride.”

“I don’t understand this, Rio.”

“I know.” Opening the refrigerator door, he pulled out a carton of milk and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

As he poured two tall glasses of milk and added syrup to one, Amber collapsed onto one of the kitchen island’s barstools.

“I haven’t drank chocolate milk since I was twelve,” she informed him as he sat it in front of her.

“I bet you still like it.”

To prove him wrong, she took a sip. Chocolatey goodness coated her parched throat and settled easily into her churning stomach. “Okay, it’s delicious,” she admitted and took another drink before waving a hand around in a silent message.

“My family owns the De Leon banks. We don’t rob them.”

“And you were working in the bar?”

“My father believed all his children needed to find their way in the world. After high school graduation, we received nothing from the family coffers until we were twenty-five and began working for the family.”

Amber did some quick math in her head. “You were twenty-five when I was twelve. Why did you stick around at the bar?”

“You were a phenomenal kid. I knew you’d be a remarkable woman. I wanted to watch you grow up.”

She stared at him, speechless. He’d made what seemed like a bunch of money to a teenager in tips but looking back now, Amber knew her father had not paid Rio a lot of money. He’d lived in a crappy apartment and ridden a second-hand motorcycle just to stay close to her?

“I also needed to find my niche in the banking business. Your father helped me discover that,” he shared.

“My father?”

“He was being swindled by the liquor company he used back then. As I checked in a few deliveries when he was out of the bar, I noted errors in the invoices and reported them. Eventually, he had me check a stack from previous orders. I believe he changed companies after that.”

“You could tell something was wrong at a glance?”

“Turns out that’s my superpower,” he joked.

“That’s a pretty handy superpower for a guy whose family is in banking.”

“It is,” Rio confirmed.

“Are you working two places now?”

“I am. The bar is a hobby. There is a full staff and a couple of managers. I simply keep an eye on the books and bartend when I want to be there.”

“And during the day?”

“I’m a forensic accountant—on vacation for a few days currently.”

“A forensic accountant?” she echoed.

---