Page 36 of Swamp Princess

I think on that. Why would she think people wouldn’t help an elderly woman? “I don’t see why someone wouldn’t help you. It is the right thing to do.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and this time when she looks at me, I can tell she is trying to figure something out. “Oh, how delightful. Tell me, dear, do you live this far South?”

“No, I reside in the trailer park near the tracks, but right now, honestly, I am in Skystead Prep. I won the scholarship.”

“Smart, beautiful, and fresh. My, oh, my, you dear are a gem.”

“What do you mean by fresh?”

“Ma’am, we have arrived.” The driver pulls into what looks like an old Spanish villa with the yellow to match and the red brick leading up to the door. There is a large black gate that opens to the property. While this home isn’t as extravagant as the ones in Skystead, it is still impressive for the South side.

I help her out while the driver grabs her bags. When I get her to her door, I start to turn away when she stops me. “Are you hungry, dear? I was going to make empanadas.”

My stomach growls before I can even politely refuse. I shrug, laughing. “Guess I am. I can help if you’d like.”

“You know how to cook?”

“Yes, self-taught, and a little from my mom from before-” I slam my mouth closed and realize that she notices my abrupt respite, but gratefully, she doesn’t ask me to go into detail.

“Well, come on then. Come help me.”

* * *

Rosie has the music going and together, we have already made over a dozen empanadas. She says that her grandson could eat a dozen himself and all I can picture is a male look alike of Rosie with a round belly.

This kitchen is incredible. All done in white marble counter tops. Soft beige wood flooring. A massive custom made stove and two large wall ovens. Rosie has a pan rack hanging above the marble island where we are working. The ceiling has the new pocket lights in the ceiling and everything screams money, but it doesn’t look overly flashy.

I didn’t let her give me a tour of the rest of the house. I don’t want her walking too much, but I have a feeling the rest of the house is like this.

As I am preparing another dozen empanadas to be fried, I hear someone come in behind me and immediately, I feel eyes on me but I don’t turn around.

“Hector, darling, there you are.” Rosie sounds cheerful and I watch her remove an empanada before she is out of view.

“Grandmother, who is this?”

Slowly, I turn, knowing it would be rude not to at this point and I nearly choke on air. Hector is not a look alike in any way, unless you count his green eyes. Hector is gorgeous. Tall and muscular and currently wearing a very wet bathing suit. His skin is the color of smooth mocha and I see tattoos covering his chest and forearms, but the one that sticks out the most to me are the two doves on the side of his neck.

His hair is dark and curly on top of his head with the sides shaved close to his scalp. He also has a five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. His lips look pillow soft, even when they purse as he looks at me.

“This, Hector, is the beautiful young woman who helped me out when some boys attacked me at the grocery store.” I watch expressions rush from him, before he settles on concern and looks his grandmother over.

“Grandma, you should let me do the shopping.”

“Hector, I won’t be holed up here.” She taps his arm and I watch as he brings her into a hug while I try not to drool over this man.

He turns to me. “You helped my grandmother?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Why does it seem the two of them think she wouldn’t have been helped if I hadn’t been there.

“Hector, she doesn’t live this far south.” Rosie interrupts.

He looks at her and it’s like a silent conversation between them. He turns back to me, and I again feel tingles shoot through me as he explores me with his eyes. “Interesting.” He walks across the way and holds his hand out. “Hector, nice to meet you, and thank you for helping my grandmother.”

“Brinley, and of course.” I place my hand in his and my body warms. He smells like the pool with his own scent of outdoors and spices. His smile is contagious, and I can’t help but smile back at him.

“Brinley. I like that name.” He lets go of my hand and turns to his grandmother. “I smelled empanadas. Can I have some?”

“Of course, boy, go sit. Brinley is making the last set now.” I turn back to the task and can feel Hector staring at me as he sits at the counter on one of the high backed stools.

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