JANUARY
Chapter 8
Amy’s stomach was in knots. Choking down a substantial lunch seemed impossible, so she grabbed a yogurt and a bottle of water before slipping out into the courtyard behind the cafeteria.
Instead of using a tray, she balanced the water in her elbow and held the yogurt in the attached hand, while she gripped the spoon and napkin in her other hand. She used her hip to open the door. As she pushed her way into the fresh air, her eyes automatically flashed to Carlos’ usual lunch spot. He wasn’t there. Deflated, Amy moved through the doorway and set her sights on her own spot in the corner.
And there he was.
He sat opposite her seat at the small two-person table. His location put his back to her, so she approached slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. He looked up as she rounded the table and slid into the chair, setting her food and water in front of her.
“Hi,” he said, a soft smile curving his lips.
“Hi.”
He looked even better than the images she’d been pulling up in her mind for the last eight days. His eyes were deep wells of coffee-colored liquid, his strong jaw was covered in a light dusting of dark hair that could only be described as…sexy.
Amy pulled her gaze down, closely examining the table between them. As always, a small thermal lunch box sat to one side. In front of Carlos were a series of small containers. A napkin and utensils, that did not match those of the cafeteria, sat to the other side. One of the containers stood open and Amy could see it held a salad.
“You bring your lunch,” she observed, desperate for something normal to discuss. After all, she couldn’t talk about the several meaningful conversations they’d had over the holidays via text, or how happy she was to see him on her first day back, or how excited she was to go out with him on Saturday.
He nodded. “I have a special diet.”
“A special diet?” She cocked her head. That explained why he always brought his own food. “Are you allergic to certain foods or something?”
“In a way, yeah. I have Celiac Disease. I can’t eat anything with gluten in it. And cross-contamination is a real problem. So, you know, I take care of it myself.” He clearly didn’t want to discuss this in more detail because as soon as he was done explaining it he looked pointedly at her. “How’s your first day in production going?”
Amy sat back in the chair and opened her yogurt. Carlos seemed to be watching her. But she didn’t alter in her course. She pulled the metal wrapper off and put the underside to her tongue to clean off the yogurt there. She always licked her yogurt lids. Only this time, it elicited a reaction. Carlos watched her with hawk-like eyes as she did it. It slowed her movements, seeing his gaze trained on her tongue. The unconscious habit became deliberate. The air between them in those heartbeats seemed to be filled with thick tension.
“Is that all you’re eating?” he asked, his voice low and deep.
Amy set the yogurt lid aside and dropped the spoon into the round container. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Here.” Carlos slid one of his smaller containers toward her. “Eat this. It will give you more energy. You’re going to need it. I have no doubt Kelly will run you ragged on the factory floor.”
She took the container and pulled off the lid. It was filled with mixed nuts, not the cheap ones, the good ones—Macadamia, Brazil, and Cashews.
“Thank you.” She popped a couple of nuts into her mouth. When she’d swallowed them she answered his original question. “So far I’ve just been looking over materials, like I did the first day I worked for you. But tomorrow Kelly is going to have me shadow one of the floor supervisors so I can see what happens down there.” She took a spoonful of yogurt and pulled it up to her lips. Carlos eyed it as it hovered there. “I’m looking forward to it,” she said just before slipping the spoon into her mouth.
Carlos cleared his throat. “Good. I’m sure it’ll be quite different from working for me.”
Amy shrugged. “Probably. I’m going to learn all the different jobs of the department. You did that for me, too. But you had me actually do parts of everyone’s work. Kelly will have me shadow everyone. I don’t know. It sounds less exciting. But I’m keeping an open mind.”
“Amy, you are very intelligent. If things seem less exciting to you it’s because they are not enough of a challenge to your intellect.”
She smiled at him. She didn’t really have more to say. She just wanted to sit here with this gorgeous, generous man and bask in all that he was.
****
It was hard to focus on basketball when Amy was sitting on the bleachers in front of him. She laughed at something his sister-in-law, Tracey, was saying to her. She threw her head back, causing her silky blonde hair to cascade over her back and her neck to stretch out. The urge to lean forward and put his lips on that creamy skin was overwhelming.
Amy turned to look at him, her blue eyes shining. She smiled so sweetly it tripped his heart. He managed to keep himself planted on the hard wooden bench when what he really wanted was to stand up and pull her out of there.
He had to get a hold of himself. He had to find a way to repress the insane urges to touch her that overtook him at the most inappropriate times, like at a middle school basketball game.
A shout went up from his brother beside him and he refocused on his nephew, Mateo. The poor kid was playing his heart out on the court, the least Carlos could do was pay attention.
The workweek had dragged by. The saving grace was the thirty minutes he stole with Amy everyday at lunch. When she had worked for him he’d purposely avoided taking his lunch at the same time as her. He’d adjusted his schedule and sometimes just ate in his office to avoid her altogether. But all that had changed when she’d moved to production. Now he made sure to clear his schedule for that small time with her. Whatever meetings he had to change or work he had to rearrange, he did it. It was a sign of how desperate and pathetic he’d become.
To make matters worse, he couldn’t seem to work up much concern over his behavior. He was too busy finding ways to spend time with Amy without it being too obvious that he was becoming consumed with seeing her.
“What’s the story, C?” Daniel asked, leaning toward his little brother, his voice low.
“What do you mean?” Carlos played dumb.
“Please,” Daniel whispered. “What’s the story with Amy?”
Carlos looked at his brother, trying to convey caution with his eyes. “We’re friends.”
Daniel moved closer, his voice low, his mouth near Carlos’ ear. “There’s more to it. There has to be.”
Carlos shook his head.
Daniel swiveled his gaze between Amy and Carlos. “All right. But if you don’t move soon you’ll end up in the friend zone for good. And I can tell by the goofy look on your face that’s not what you want.”
Carlos knew what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure it was what he deserved.
After the game, the whole gang went to the restaurant on the island that was owned and operated by another of his brothers, Juan, and his wife, Julie. It was one of a handful of places Carlos could eat at because their chef, Robert, took care to make sure his meal was gluten-free.
They sat in a back room of the restaurant, which allowed them to let their hair down. So the meal was loud and crazy. Adults shouted and laughed and drank margaritas while the kids ran around wild.
Carlos watched Amy closely to see how she took to his uninhibited family. He’d always been the quiet one, content to sit on the sidelines and enjoy the show. His role as the calm statue in the corner attracted the children to him. When they were little they would take turns sitting on his lap and asking him to help them tie their shoes or figure out how to do something.
Now that they were older, the kids still cycled to him for brief conversations that allowed them take a breather from the chaos of the family gathering. Amy saw all of this and he could tell she understood his role in the family. It was etched on her face and in the smiles she exchanged with him.
She was, on the other hand, in the center of everything. She claimed to be shy, but she had no trouble keeping up here. Every member of his family wanted to talk to her, like she was a shiny new toy. And she seemed completely at home with it. She happily answered their questions and asked more in return. She laughed with his sisters-in-law, teased his brothers, and enthusiastically listened to the kids.
All the while she kept returning her gaze to him, making sure he knew she saw him, and making sure she noted with her raised brow and private smirk that she was aware of how closely he watched her. It was as if, despite their physical separation across the table, her verbose enthusiasm, and his reserved nature, they were partners at this gathering, two complementary sides of a coin.
After dinner, Amy and Carlos said goodbye to his boisterous family and climbed into Carlos’ car for the ride back to Richmond. They talked in a steady stream about the game and his various family members. She asked about the two brothers she hadn’t met yet and he described their families and businesses.
Gregory was the second oldest, he and his wife, Lisa, had two kids and owned an auto body shop. They lived in Vallejo and both kids were in high school.
Jason, the oldest, was recently married to his longtime boyfriend Neil. They had two boys from Jason’s youth. A bit of a wild and confused teenager, he’d gotten two different girls pregnant by the age of nineteen. It wasn’t until Jason embraced his sexuality that he’d settled down and started living responsibly. He’d met Neil and they’d raised the boys together. Both kids were grown up now and worked at the successful chain of men’s clothing stores they owned.
After hearing about all his brothers, Amy asked, “So you’re the only Diaz sibling who doesn’t own his own business?”
“Yep. That’s me. The black sheep.”
“You could though. You excel at making everyone else money,” she pointed out.
“They all did it with their wives, or in Jason’s case his husband, and I haven’t found my partner yet. It doesn’t interest me without that.”
She was quiet for a long time as he made his way through the East Bay on the crowded roads. “What kind of business would you have if you had one?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t even speculate. The right partner would mean the right business. We’d decide together. I’m dropping you off at your house, right?”
“Actually, I want to have that talk now,” she said quietly.
Carlos was filled with both excitement and anxiety at her words. “Okay. Where do you want to have the conversation?”
“My roommate is at home so I was hoping…could we go to your place?”
“Sure.” Carlos made a turn that would take them to his condo. He tried not to think too hard about what it meant that he was taking Amy to his house.
They pulled up in his parking space at the high-rise condo building and Carlos led Amy to the elevator. His place on the top floor was spacious and bright. Probably overly large for a bachelor pad, the three-bedroom condo allowed him to have his nieces and nephews spend the night occasionally.
Amy walked through the open living room and examined everything from the comfortable furniture to the modest paintings on the wall. “This place is nice. Did you have someone decorate it?”
“Tracey did it, actually.”
“She did a good job. It’s still a fancy-ass condo, but she made it warm, too.” Amy sat on one end of the couch and pulled the fuzzy brown blanket that lay on its back onto her lap. She snuggled in like she was right at home.
Carlos loved that. He wanted to join her under that blanket. Instead he stood in front of the couch awkwardly. “You want a drink?”
She nodded. “Beer?”
“Sure.” He moved to the refrigerator, still in her view because the kitchen and living room were open concept.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. You probably don’t have beer, do you?” Amy called to him.
Carlos reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two glass bottles. “As a matter of fact, I do. Gluten-free beer.” He popped the tops with the old school church key that clung to his refrigerator by a magnet and set them on the counter. “It’s not bad, honest. Do you want a glass?”
“No. Bottle’s fine.”
Carlos picked the bottles back up and moved to the couch. He handed her a beer and sat beside her on the off-white fabric couch.
“I’m not young, you know,” she said.
Carlos knotted his brows in confusion. “I know.”
“Do you?” She cocked her head at him. “Sometimes you look at me or talk to me like you think I’m much younger than you. But I’m only two years younger.”
He smiled. It was true. He did think of her that way. Perhaps because she seemed so fresh and full of life, not jaded and bitter like his ex-wife. “You look much younger than me,” he noted.
“But I’m not.”
“You’re not,” he confirmed.
Amy took a long swig of her beer. She looked at the bottle with the green skull and cross bones on it and the slogan indicating it didn’t have any gluten. “Not bad.” She set the bottle on the coffee table in front of the couch and turned to face him. “Before I tell you what I need to tell you. I want you to kiss me.”