Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,100

was an arranged, fake, potentially short-term relationship. The, um, opposite of marriage material.

Even if it felt like more than that now.

“I figured that would get your attention,” Luis teased. “You were starting to hyperventilate on me.”

“You!” She swatted his arm in protest.

He grinned, but Sara quickly ducked down to peer out the windshield as he pulled his truck into a wide driveway running under the left half of a raised modest siding house with cream paint and dark brown shutters.

Wooden steps started at the edge of the driveway and went half a flight up before hooking left to end in a small porch at the front door. Lush bougainvillea vines trailed around the support beams and latticework along the bottom half of the stairs adding an explosion of bright magenta color in a warm welcome.

Instantly Sara’s doubts swelled, billowing in a cloud of uncertainty.

She fell back against her seat, rubbing at the center of her forehead as if it would erase the negative thoughts spiraling.

“Hey, come on, what’s going on?” Luis slid his hand behind her shoulders, his strong fingers kneading at the tension in her neck. “We got this.”

“Truth?” she whispered, remembering their conversation minutes before he’d met her parents Friday afternoon.

“Always.”

Sara peeked at him from under her lashes. “Even though this wasn’t supposed to happen. Me meeting your family. Us getting . . . you know, intimate.”

“Very intimate,” he teased, his eyes flaring with lust.

Desire sparked in her belly but wasn’t strong enough to dispel her misgivings.

“What is it?” Luis asked, as if he sensed her disquiet.

“I want them, your familia, to like me. Really badly want them to like me. And I’m trying not to go there.” There being the root cause of her OSFED. The fear she continuously fought to dig out of her psyche. “But what if they don’t? What if I’m not enough?”

“Aw, babe.”

Luis swiftly unbuckled his seat belt and twisted to face her. Gently he cupped her jaw with one hand, tucked her loose hair behind her ear with the other. His handsome, rugged face softened with sincerity, Luis leaned closer to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Cari?o, there’s no doubt they’re going to like everything about you. Hell, Anamaría already loves you more than she loves me. You’re too loveable to resist.”

How did he do that? How did he know exactly the right thing to say and do to calm her?

Grateful for his words, his calming presence, Sara hooked a finger in his open collar and drew him closer. Her lips sought his for another butterfly soft kiss. Luis nuzzled her nose with his, then pulled back, his smile brimming with confidence.

“You’re going to wow them,” he whispered. “No doubt about it.”

* * *

“So, do you see yourself married with children in the near future?”

Heads swiveled sharply. Luis choked on his water. Anamaría’s gasped “Mami!” was punctuated by a fork clattering onto a stoneware dinner plate.

Sara cringed in surprise at Se?ora Navarro’s blunt question. Goodness, Robin had nothing on Luis’s mom when it came to speaking her mind.

“Mami, por favor,” Luis warned.

“?Pero qué pasa?” the older woman complained.

“What’s wrong is, that’s a very personal question and Sara just met you. Everyone.”

Sara figured there was no need to get into a discussion about how long they’d all known her. That wouldn’t end well for her and Luis.

“Papi, help me out here,” Luis implored his dad, who sat at the head of the table, the family patriarch and, similar to Sara’s dad it seemed, also the unofficial umpire.

Tall and broad-shouldered like all three of his sons, José Ramón Navarro made an imposing figure. His salt-and-pepper hair was parted and combed to the side in a classic, debonair style that had nothing to do with hiding a bald spot. The lines bracketing his eyes and mouth told the story of a man who worked hard and loved deeply and laughed often, while the seriousness in his dark eyes reminded her of Luis’s quiet strength.

Se?or Navarro looked past Luis on his right to meet Sara’s gaze. She smiled and forced herself to maintain eye contact, no matter how unnerving the older man’s perusal might feel. He dipped his head politely, then reached for the platter of sweet plantains Carlos had set between them on the other side of the long rectangular table.

“Lydia, at least let us fill our plates before the Inquisition begins,” Luis’s father said, his sober expression softening as he gazed down the length of the table at his wife of nearly forty