Page 12 of Catching the Captain

“Is she hot?”

I nod. “Yeah.” I let out a groan, rubbing my hand down my face. “I feel like I shouldn’t say that because she’s still young. But, goddamn, she’s beautiful.”

Tiago flashes his teeth in a quick grin. “Does she look like her sister?”

“No, not at all. They’re opposites in appearance. Valentina is tall and blonde, and Rori is a little brunette.”

The waitress drops off our beers and disappears once more.

“Are their personalities alike?” he asks, then raises his bottle to his lips.

“Fuck no. Valentina was always tough to get along with. We had a power struggle throughout our entire relationship. She wanted to control me, and that wasn’t happening. Rori seems sweet. The circumstances were a little awkward for her, though.”

He sets his beer down. “How so?”

“She was jogging across the street and a car turned without stopping at the red light. She had to throw herself forward toward the sidewalk to avoid being run over. I was there and helped her up. I didn’t know who she was until she clued me in.”

“And now you’re her hero.”

I laugh. “All I did was help her up and give her a ride home.”

“Now you know where she lives in case you want to see her again.”

I want to see her again, for sure. But what’s the motivating factor? Is it that I want to catch up, or is it because she’s beautiful? I guess there’s no reason why it can’t be a little of both.

“I made plans to take her to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Look at you not missing out on an opportunity.”

“It’s not like that,” I deny.

He gives me a look that says I’m full of shit. “You want to hit the little sister, too, admit it.”

“Fuck off. It’s not like that.”

“So you say. It will be if you spend more time with her.”

“I’m not getting ahead of myself. It’s just dinner and two old friends catching up.”

Tiago chuckles. “I look forward to saying I told you so.”

* * *

Rori’s sitting on her front stoop when I pull into her driveway. I jump out to open the passenger side door, then watch her walk toward me. She’s wearing a skirt that falls a couple of inches above her knees, leaving plenty of golden skin exposed.

“Hi there.” She smiles at me.

“Hey. You look nice,” I say, helping her into my truck.

Nice isn’t even close to how she looks. She’s beautiful.

“Thank you. So do you,” she says, her eyes sweeping over my blue polo and khakis.

“Thanks.” I move around the truck and get behind the wheel, backing the truck out of the driveway. “How do you feel about outdoor dining?” I ask as we start down the road.

“I’m good with that. It’s a beautiful night.”

The humidity isn’t oppressive for a change, and I want to take advantage of that. Living in the south means dealing with extreme heat, and even though I’ve lived here since my freshman year of college, I don’t know that I’ve ever gotten completely used to just how hot it can get. There’s a world of difference between the weather in Connecticut, where I’m from, and here. The lack of snow in the winter was nice at first, but after enough years without, I’ve even grown to miss watching the fluffy white flakes falling.

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