Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,111
smug grin. “We all know the answer.”
An hysterical giggle bubbled up Sara’s throat.
Her mom squeezed her arm around Sara’s shoulders with an encouraging smile. Jonathan jerked his thumb toward the front of the house. And her dad, her dad gave the wink he’d greeted her with every time he peeked into her room to say good night when she was a kid.
Relief, sweet and pure, rained over her.
“I could totally kiss you right now,” she told her sister, hands pressed over her racing heart.
“Yeah, wrong person,” Robin complained. “Now get out of here.”
Jonathan’s laughter chased Sara down the hall and up the stairs where she stopped in front of her closed bedroom door.
Her pulse pounding, she wiped her clammy palms on her beach cover-up. She sucked in a shaky breath, then counted down from ten as she slowly released it.
The technique did absolutely nothing to calm her racing pulse.
Positives. She had to focus on the positives.
The truth was out. No more subterfuge. No more pretense.
They could be open and honest with everyone. With each other. That was a good thing.
Buoyed by her reasoning, Sara opened the door and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her.
Luis stormed out of the bathroom, his shaving cream and black toiletry bag in his hands. He gaze cut to hers, but he didn’t say anything as he continued to the bed where his duffel sat open, his clothes thrown haphazardly inside.
His drawer under the long plank desk sat open, empty. His running shoes and tan dress sneakers no longer sat in their spots next to the wardrobe. He wasn’t wasting any time getting out of here. Away from her.
“Can we please talk for a moment?” she asked, choosing to stay by the wardrobe, giving him some space.
“I don’t know what there is to say.”
He jammed the shaving cream canister into his duffel with a harsh shove. Muscles flexed and bunched in his arms and torso, on full display through the supersize armholes ripped nearly to the hem of his tank. Barely concealed anger warred with his usual self-control. It pulsed off him as if he were Bruce Banner mid-transformation into the Hulk.
Confusion bled into her remorse. Yes, she could have, should have, explained the situation better. Did that warrant this degree of reproach?
“Don’t leave like this,” she pleaded.
“I was hired to do something that’s no longer necessary.”
“Look, that came out wrong downstairs.”
“No worries. Now I know where we stand.”
Scared by his implacable demeanor, she lifted her arms in supplication. “I was freaking out and described things poorly. I’m sorry. But is that really reason enough to blow things up between us?”
“Things. Things,” he muttered under his breath. Grabbing one side of the open flap on his bag, he jerked it wider as he rummaged inside. “What things are you talking about? We had fun together. Achieved what we set out to do last Friday. I killed some time. You made progress with your family like you wanted. Missions accomplished. I mean, I’m assuming they’ll forgive you for the lie; that’s what families usually do.”
“Except for you with Enrique, right?”
“No. Nu-uh.” He backed away from the bed, shaking his finger at her as if she were one of his nephews in need of scolding. “I told you from the beginning, we’re not bringing my family into this.”
“But they already are.”
“Don’t go there.” Luis continued backing up until his hamstrings hit the shelf desk behind him. A framed photograph of the rental home’s owners standing on a sunset beach tipped over, clattering onto the desk. He ignored it.
Sara stepped toward him, gut instinct driving her to press. Make him confront the problems he brought to the table but ignored. “Your issues with the past, they’ve been in this room. On the beach, in your truck. Wherever we’ve been together, those issues have been there, too. Doing their part to hamper our chances of getting close. Truly close.”
He blew out a harsh laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A derisive grimace twisted his lips, but she saw it . . . the flash of recognition in his dark eyes before he turned away.
Sara prayed, harder than she’d ever prayed for anything, that he’d open up to her now. Instead, when he deigned to look back at her, it was gone. Pushed down, buried where he didn’t have to deal with the past.
Anguish knifed deep into her chest with a poison-tipped blade.
“Tell me, what did Carlos mean about you having forced time off?” she asked.