Silvia looked back to Deacon and said timidly, “Okay, John.”
Deacon smiled at her.
Her eyes got huge and then dropped back to her lap.
I swallowed a giggle.
“Cassidy,” Milagros said like she was about to make an announcement. Pushing up from the couch across from us that she and Manuel were sitting on, she ended on an order. “Help me in the kitchen.”
She needed no help in the kitchen. She needed to give her friend/employer a talking to about this boyfriend-out-of-the-blue business, seeing as all the time she’d spent at the cabins since Deacon returned was time I was with Deacon so she didn’t have time to do it before.
I gave big eyes to Deacon, his lit with humor, and I let his hand go (a hand I took; he was back to no PDA, though he did sit close to me on the couch, but this could have been because Esteban wedged himself beside Deacon). I squeezed his thigh then got up and followed Milagros, who was already heading to their tiny kitchen.
Milagros cleaned my cabins and she had two other houses in town she also cleaned. She’d had a business that was going pretty well, it allowed her to work and bring in needed money while the kids were at school, be at home when they got out. Then the recession hit and she lost five clients. That was when she went looking for work and I took her on.
Even though I gave her work and it was work she was good at that she liked because she could do it on her schedule, they were far from rolling in it as their lovely, but small (and especially small for seven people) house attested. Manuel worked as maintenance for some office buildings in Chantelle about thirty miles away. The pay was decent but the commute was a bitch, on time and gas.
But pay had to be freaking awesome to take care of a house and five kids.
Decent meant every penny had to stretch.
They didn’t complain. They just worked, did their best with what they had, loved their kids and each other, and were good friends to me.
In other words, they were the bomb and I was fortunate Milagros drove down my lane looking for work, and not because her doing it gave me free time.
What I didn’t know was at that moment, in her kitchen, she was going to prove that thought absolutely correct.
She stopped well away from the door and I came to a stop a couple feet in front of her.
I opened my mouth to speak but she got there before me.
“He stays with you.” This was an accusation.
“Uh…yeah.”
“Querida, you’re not married.”
I pulled up all my thirty years in the face of a woman who was only a few years older than me but reminded me of my mother on more than one occasion, except scarier.
“No, we’re not,” I replied firmly.
She held my eyes and nodded sharply, letting that go, and saying, “You’re very beautiful and he’s staying with you. Which means he doesn’t have to pay for a cabin.”
I fought back a smile. “You think he’s taking advantage of me.”
“He doesn’t touch you.”
Sheesh, she noticed everything.
“He’s not into PDA,” I explained.
“PDA?”
“Public displays of affection.”
Her head cocked to the side as she noted, “This is odd for a man like him.”
“Just saying, Manuel isn’t into that with you either,” I pointed out.