Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,14

man of few words showing up to save the day? Classic action film superhero.”

Vin Diesel?

Him?

Okay, now she was talking.

While the other car took its time pulling out of the parking spot, Luis considered Sara’s description. “So, you think I’m hunky, huh?” He waggled his brows playfully.

She laugh-snorted and rolled her eyes. “Like you didn’t already know you are.”

“Yeah, well, if you ask me, this Ric guy is an idiot for giving up a week with you,” he said, enjoying the pink blush that rose up her cheeks as she murmured a thank-you.

Years of driving the fire truck had Luis deftly parallel parking his vehicle. Turning toward her, he draped his left arm over the steering wheel. “If we’re about to start a study session, we need sustenance. You good if I hop out and order us a couple Cuban mix sandwiches? Or do you prefer to order for yourself?”

“A Cuban mix sounds delicious. With a water, please? Here”— she bent down to dip her hand into her purse again—“let me give you some cash.”

“I got it. It’s your first meal on my turf. My treat,” he added when she tucked her chin as if she were about to argue.

She hesitated a beat before dropping her wallet back into her tote. “Fine. This time. But we’re gonna discuss logistics moving forward. As soon as you come back with our food. I’m too hungry to argue.”

“Whatever you say.” Though he wouldn’t be comfortable having her pay for him, especially in front of her family.

Blame it on a streak of machismo he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to completely erase. His sister complained about double standards in their culture and within the firefighting community all the time. On the job, he worked hard to be fair, understanding the importance of treating every firefighter with the same respect and value. They all pulled their weight. Off duty, if a date wanted to split the bill, he didn’t mind. But outright taking care of the bill, without it being a special occasion? It went against the manners ingrained by his parents.

Leaving his truck running, Luis jogged diagonally across the street to Sandy’s. As always, the popular counter location attached to a coin-operated laundromat was packed with people eating, ordering, or waiting.

“?Oye, Luis, cómo estás, ’mano?”

Luis clasped hands and leaned in for a one-armed hug with an old high school buddy standing on the crowded sidewalk. “Hey, Franco, long time no see, brother. I’m doing good. What’s new?”

“You know how it is, working hard when I’d rather be hardly working. Así es la vida en Cayo Hueso,” Franco joked.

He had it right. That was life for many locals in Key West, trying to stay on the island as the cost of living rose. If you asked Luis, the juggle was worth it.

They swapped stories about work and familia, pausing when it came time for Luis to place his order.

“Eating for two?” Franco teased. “What, you lifting heavy weights or something?”

“Picking up food for me and a . . . a friend in town for the week.” Luis eyed his truck, the cab visible over the little sports car parked in front. Sara’s head was bent, probably over her notebook, her blond waves bright against the black seat leather.

“Anyone I know?”

Luis turned to find that Franco had followed his gaze and noticed Sara waiting for him. His mind froze for a blip at the potential glitch he hadn’t considered.

Crap. No way they could avoid running into people who would inevitably ask about Sara if they were together.

People who knew him as Luis, not Ric. A definite problem if they bumped into another Conch while with her family. Many of the locals knew each other, and gossip flew around their tiny island faster than a speedboat racing. No doubt he’d be seen with Sara’s family at some point over the next week. If someone got wind of his “relationship” with her, his family would find out in minutes.

And if they confronted him about keeping a girlfriend a secret, no way he’d lie.

Not after the raking over the beach bonfire coals he’d given his brother Enrique for lying to him.

Time to improvise and start playing Sara’s game before he wound up having to deal with damage control.

“You don’t know her,” Luis said, stepping up to the counter to grab a handful of napkins. “She’s not from here. We met while I was in Miami a while ago.”

As he expected, Franco followed, his back now to the street, and