Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,54

Too bad that would never happen. Luis could never forgive Enrique’s betrayal. Or the role he had played in not stopping Mirna from driving away that day.

Spinning on his sneaker, Luis stomped toward the sliding glass door leading to the back porch.

“Necesitas hablar con alguien,” his mom insisted.

Luis paused, his fingers crooked around the metal handle. No, he didn’t need to talk to anyone or rehash the past. He needed to forget. Keep himself busy. Help the next person in need.

“If not me. If not Father Miguel at St. Mary’s. If not a grief counselor. Then with your papi. He understands loss, on the job and off.”

Head bowed, Luis nodded. She made a good point. As always.

“Think about it. Now come give your mamá a kiss good-bye. You know better than to leave without one.”

Like the dutiful son he tried hard to be, Luis trudged back to his mom. Her plump face, its wrinkles a sign of a life well lived as she liked to say, softened with her benevolent smile. She angled her head for him to kiss her cheek.

“Dios te bendiga, mi vida,” she told him.

As he pushed the sliding glass door open to say good-bye to his father, Luis found comfort in the farewell his mother had said to them all for as long as he could remember.

God bless you, my life.

As screwed up as his personal and work life might be at the moment, he could always count on his parents’ love and support. Something Sara had unfortunately missed out on growing up.

It seemed as if her parents wanted to change that now, and if he could facilitate the process, help someone else’s family situation when he couldn’t help his own, that would make this forced time off work worth it.

Anxious to see Sara again, Luis hurried down the back steps. He gave his dad a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, then double-timed it to his truck.

He had plans with his enticing fake girlfriend, and they made the week ahead loom brighter.

* * *

Luis pulled into the parking space behind the Vances’ blue rental SUV to find Ruth, dressed in a navy and white short-sleeved dress, pacing back and forth along the verandah. She paused mid-step, her gaze peering intently through his front windshield. Seconds later, her thin shoulders slumped, and she returned his wave with a feeble one of her own.

Unease skittered down Luis’s spine.

His cell phone nested in the console cupholder, so he knew he hadn’t missed a warning call or text from Sara. But based on Ruth’s sentinel-guarding-the-door routine, he’d guess something was wrong in the Vance household this morning.

Grabbing his duffel bag off the front passenger seat, he hopped out of his truck. By the time his sneakers hit the grass, his mind shifted into problem-solving mode, his eyes assessing the premises as if he were arriving on the scene of a call.

“Good morning!” he said, shifting into the upbeat tone he used when visiting elementary schools or speaking with children about life as a firefighter. “Weather looks great for a day of island sightseeing.”

Ruth didn’t take his bait. Instead, she waited for him at the top of the stairs, her hello smile shaky, her gray eyes stormy.

“Have you heard from Sara?” she asked.

Halfway up the steps, Luis paused, suddenly leery. Was their ruse up?

“Uh, no,” he answered, ping-ponging between disappointment and unease. Trying not to let either show. “But I wasn’t expecting to. When I left last night, we arranged for me to be here at nine thirty after I met my parents for breakfast. Do you need something?”

Ruth shook her head and pivoted, crossing the wooden flooring to perch on the end of one of the rattan rockers. She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs, a nervous gesture that stretched, then bunched the navy and white wavy-patterned material of her short-sleeved sundress.

Figuring he would have been given the boot had their fake relationship been exposed, Luis dropped his bag by the front door, then crossed to sit in the rocker beside hers.

“She left the house at seven thirty to go for a short run.” Ruth crooked her elbow to check the time on the gold watch circling her tiny wrist. Her lips thinned. Her brows angled even closer as her frown deepened.

“The island’s beautiful in the morning,” he mused. “Sun rising over the ocean. Quiet early AM sounds like our famous stray roosters crowing. Less hustle and bustle of tourists clogging the streets. Maybe she decided