Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,44

to have that.

Instinctively her hand squeezed his. In her peripheral vision, she caught Luis looking at her.

Afraid what he might see, the rising attraction and admiration for him she might reveal, Sara kept her eyes trained on the curved sliver of sun barely noticeable on the horizon.

Instead, she rested her head against Luis’s strong shoulder. Maybe she couldn’t allow herself to fall for him, but she could damn well do her best to make sure her firefighter in shining armor found a little bit of peace in his part of this beautiful paradise he called home.

Chapter 9

Luis wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, running into his bonehead younger brother had done something to Sara.

And it wasn’t the swooning falling at Enrique’s feet that happened with most women. Even the ones who claimed they loved someone else.

Ever since Enrique had stormed off in a snit (what else was new) Sara had remained quiet. Introspective. Close by Luis’s side.

Not that he was complaining. He liked the feel of her smaller hand in his. Maybe a little too much. The tender smile she sent his way made his chest tighten. His breath a little harder to catch. Probably not the wisest reaction to have with someone he was intent on keeping in the friend zone.

Now the whole Vance clan sat at a long table on the outdoor patio of El Meson de Pepe. Sara had snagged a chair at the end of the table’s left side. The brick wall behind her, she faced the makeshift stage set up across the bricked walkway that led to Mallory Square in one direction and the street in the other. Soon the large walkway in front of the outdoor bar would become a dance floor, inviting patrons at their tables and those passing by who stopped to appreciate the live band.

While the trio of musicians set up, Sara’s family enjoyed the savory Cuban food that made the restaurant a crowd favorite.

“Here, taste this.” Jonathan scooped up a bite of ropa vieja, then held out his fork for Carolyn to sample the shredded skirt steak with red and green peppers.

Carolyn’s eyes closed as she chewed the food, her review of his dish humming from her mouth before she’d even swallowed. “Mmmm, that’s delicious.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it?” Jonathan lifted his plate, extending it across the table toward Sara, who sat in front of him.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” she answered.

“What about my pork roast?” Charles asked from the other end of the table. “How do you say it in Spanish again?”

“Lechón.”

“Lechón.”

Luis and Sara answered in unison, each cutting off the last syllable on a grin. Sara’s faded quickly when her dad repeated his invitation for her to try his meal.

“That’s okay, Dad; I got enough to eat. Honestly.” She poked her fork at the remains of the two appetizers she had ordered.

Half of a tostón relleno leaned on its side, the ropa vieja stuffing from inside the fried green plantain mini-bowl spilling onto the cream plate. She’d eaten one and pawned off the other on Luis. A lonely ham croqueta had been sliced in half, then pushed aside after Sara had eaten the others in the appetizer trio.

Luis hadn’t missed the way her family kept an eye on what Sara ordered, offering to share one meal or another with her when she balked at getting her own entrée. She brushed off their suggestions. Later, when their meals arrived, a few tried sending a small plate of their dish down to her. Which she promptly sent back, along with a pointed shake of her head.

At first Luis took the banter as a sign of their close connection. Everyone wanting to taste a little of everything. It didn’t take him long to notice the attention was solely directed at Sara, whose polite “no thank yous” slowly bled into irritation.

“Are you sure you don’t want—”

“Mother, I said I’m good.” Sara’s steely, back-off tone silenced everyone at the table.

Robin, who’d been deep in conversation with Edward about the artwork and flora they anticipated viewing during a tour of the Audubon House and Tropical Gardens, broke off mid-sentence. She plunked her fork on her plate’s edge and leaned forward to glare at Sara. “There’s no need to speak to her that way.”

“Robin, it’s okay.” Ruth held up her hands as if to calm them all down.

“No, she’s right,” Sara acquiesced. Head bowed, she stared down at her plate. Yet again a muted version of the vibrant woman who teased