“MY BROTHER WILL be late to his own funeral.” Shari sighs and presses her phone’s screen to check the time.
We’re hanging out in her kitchen waiting for the guys to show up. Took us two weeks for our schedules to all align with a free evening. I don’t mind Boone being late because it gives us time to catch up.
The house she shares with her boyfriend, Ray, is a small Spanish bungalow facing a park on the west side of town. I love everything about the house, especially the kitchen. The terra cotta floors, blue and white tile counters, and a bundle of dried red peppers hanging by the large window over the sink, give the space a warm, homey feel. I’d love to live here.
Taking a sip of the cider she poured for me, I lean against the island. “I’ve never noticed before.”
He always shows up at the diner around the same time every morning like he has an alarm set.
“That’s interesting.” Her fingers tap against the glass as she sends a message. “We’re talking about Boone, right? Tall, grumpy guy? Vaguely looks like me, but less attractive?”
“Sounds like the guy. Sometimes has weird facial hair?” I make a mustache with my finger above my mouth.
“That’s the one.” Laughing, she slightly shakes her head. “You apparently get another side of him.”
“Unless he has a twin,” I say as casually as I can. Do I really think he’s an identical twin? No, but the man I know now doesn’t act like the same cranky guy who barely spoke to me months ago.
“Lord no.” Shari’s dark hair flips in front of her face as she vehemently shakes her head. “One of him is enough. The world couldn’t handle two. Might destroy the space-time continuum.”
“I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds bad.”
“Never took physics?” she asks without judgment. “What did you study?”
“History. I like research, and I avoided science after finishing the basic requirements.” Now I’m thinking I should’ve studied physics and quantum mechanics. Who knew conspiracy theories would require so much advance math?
“Boone’s the math and engineering mind in the family. I’m better at the soft skills. Being a waitress, we get good at reading people, anticipating their needs, managing their expectations.”
“I guess.” I’m not sure I’ve mastered any of those skills. “What’s up with the mustaches?”
She smiles and tents her fingers together. “I shouldn’t enjoy torturing him as much as I do, but he keeps betting me and losing. At least he only wagers ridiculous facial hair. I tried to get him to get a tattoo, but he refused.”
“What are you betting about?” I’m fascinated.
“Anything I know I can win. Mostly silly stuff. Were you around for the mutton chops?” She grins.
“Sadly, no.”
“Handlebar mustache? He got really into that one, even bought the wax so he could have the sharp points. Hold on, I have a great pic.” She picks up her phone and scrolls. “Here.”
I stare at Boone’s face on the screen. Not even the overgrown caterpillar can diminish his handsomeness. How is that possible? While I’m gawking at his face, a text notification appears on his forehead.
*Don’t scare Lucy away. Be there in 5*
Laughing, I flip the phone for her to read it. “Why does he think you’ll scare me away?”
“He’s worried I’m going to spill all his secrets and shatter whatever illusion he’s created of being a decent, kind, fun person. Or show you horrible pics of him.” She snickers, mischief flashing in her green eyes. “Oops. Too late on the last one.”
“Tell me more,” I suggest, grinning back at her.
A few minutes later, Boone strolls into the kitchen, finds us laughing over Shari’s phone, and grumbles, “I knew I should’ve picked you up myself. My sister can’t be trusted. Has she spilled all of our family secrets?”
Holding her phone, I show him the ridiculous pic we’re currently laughing over.
“Hey, I was really proud of that goatee.” He takes the phone from my hand and sets it on the counter. Not caring his sister is a few feet away, he wraps his arms around my waist, and kisses me.
I feel him smile against my mouth before he gives me one more soft kiss. Pulling away slightly, he grins down at me. “Hi.”
“Hello to you, too,” Shari says somewhere behind me.
“I said hi,” he repeats, gazing into my eyes like we’re the only two people in the room and maybe the world.
“You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?” Shari asks
“Probably.” He kisses me again. “When’s dinner ready?”
“Enchiladas are in the oven and I need to steam the tamales. Ray’s on his way, and as soon as he gets here, we’ll eat.” She opens the fridge and pulls out a salad bowl.
My mouth waters at the idea of homemade enchiladas and tamales.
Boone takes advantage of her back being turned and lowers his hands to my butt, giving me a squeeze. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” Which is ridiculous because I’ve seen him every day for the past two weeks.
Shari’s food doesn’t disappoint.
“This was amazing,” I tell her, stuffed from eating two servings of enchiladas and a tamale. Even though my plate is empty, I’m tempted to lick the remaining sauce.
“Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe.” Boone sweeps his finger through the red sauce on his own plate.
“She must be an amazing cook,” I say.
“We’ll have to have her make us dinner sometime.” Boone drops a casual “meet my parents” invite like it’s not a big deal.
From Shari’s wide eyes, she thinks it’s a big deal. Her gaze meets mine and she mouths “wow” and then takes a sip of water to recover.
“What?” Boone shifts his attention to me.
“Nothing,” I say.
Shari speaks up, “We like to play a game after dinner. It’s a tradition.”
“Like board games?” I ask, thinking how much I despise Monopoly and wondering if I can come up with an excuse to leave.
“I wish,” Boone replies, sounding bored. “My sister has a small obsession with conspiracy theories.”
“More of a fascination.” She flips him off in a true little sister gesture. “I think what people believe says a lot about them.”
Ray slings his arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple. For a guy with a shaved head and tons of tattoos, he’s surprisingly sweet. “It’s charming.”
Now I know I need to get out of here before I blurt out my family’s story and come off like a crazy person. The Santos might live in Roswell, but that doesn’t mean they believe in aliens. Most locals don’t.
“I have a better idea. Lucy and I leave now.” Boone squeezes my hand under the table and earns my vote.
“No,” Shari deadpans.
“Can we at least sit outside and enjoy the evening while we torture our guest with the world’s worst party game?” Boone couldn’t sound less thrilled about his sister’s plans.
“Excellent idea. You two can light the chiminea and pull the chairs together.” Shari enlists Boone to do the grunt work. I admire her technique of flattering him and not giving him an out at the same time.
Grumbling, he obeys and steps outside through the french doors, which I assume lead to the backyard or patio. Ray takes his beer with him and follows Boone.
“Sorry about him. Do you have brothers?” Shari rolls her eyes at the open doors.
“Only child,” I reply.
“Lucky.” She sighs and gathers up our dinner plates.
I don’t feel lucky. “I always wished for siblings. But it wasn’t in the cards.”
Swallowing down the rest of the story, I pick up my place setting and a couple of glasses. A benefit of waitressing is I can clear a table in one trip.
“Are you close to your parents?” I ask as I set the plates and glassware on the counter next to the sink.
“I guess.” She shrugs. “They’re . . .”
I wait for her to finish.
Staring out the window, she finally says, “ . . . eccentric. I guess that’s the best way of describing my family.”
“Do they live in Roswell?” Curious, I want to know more about their background.
“Outside of town, but they moved to their place near Santa Fe a few years ago.”
“Can’t blame them. Must get overwhelming around here with all the UFO believers and tourists.”
Shari studies me as she turns on the water to rinse the dishes. Waiting for it to warm, she opens the dishwasher door. “Mind loading? It’ll go faster.”
“Not at all.” I slide out the rack and load the washer as she hands me things.
“Why Roswell?” she asks me. “I can’t imagine choosing to move here if you could live anywhere.”
“Roswell kind of chose me. My parents met in Albuquerque in college. Or at least my mom was in school at UNM. After she died, I decided to see why she loved the southwest.” None of that is a lie. Proud, I give myself a mental high five.
“Why not move to Santa Fe or Taos? I would.” She hands me the final plate and dumps the silverware in the sink.
“Why don’t you? What keeps you here? It’s only a couple of hours away.” Boone staying local makes sense, but Shari waits tables like I do. She could do that anywhere. Probably make better money in a more upscale town.
“I visit up there. I don’t think I’ll ever leave this area.” Her shy smile surprises me. “I talk a big game, but I’m a hometown kind of girl.”
“You don’t feel trapped?” I blurt out. “Sorry. I don’t know you well enough to judge your choices.”
“No. You know Ray and I co-own the Burger Joint, right? He’s an amazing chef and I run the front of the house.”
“That’s great.” I had no idea. Impressive that they’re my age and business owners. “I thought you were ‘just a waitress’ like me.”
“Don’t put yourself down. We’re all on different paths and journeys. You seem a little lost, but working on finding yourself. I have faith you’ll find what you’re seeking.” She squeezes my hand.
“Glad one of us does.” I contemplate telling her the real reason I’m in Roswell, but hold back. It’s hard enough to make friends.
“Roswell is home for me. When you feel your roots sink into the ground, you’ll know you found your true home.”
“I’m not sure I know what that feeling is. I lived my entire life in the same house, at least up until a few months ago, and I couldn’t wait to go anywhere else.”
Her warm, soapy hands touch mine as she hands me the mess of forks and knives. “I won’t pry, but if you need a friendly ear, you can always talk to me.”
Traitor emotional tears prick my eyes. I believe her. “Thanks.”
To hide the fact her offer is about to make me cry, I focus on slotting each piece of silverware into its own spot in the dishwasher. Blinking away the wave of sadness, I place the last of the knives in the basket and stand. A quick swipe of my sleeve over my eyes hopefully hides all evidence I’m a sappy, lonely crybaby.
“Fire’s ready.” Boone’s voice carries from the doors. “You might want blankets. And you should—”
When I lift my eyes to his face, he stops talking. He glances behind me at his sister. “What did you do?”
“Pfft,” she exhales the sound. “Why do you always assume it’s something I’ve done? We were just chatting.”
He glances at me. “Everything okay?”
I nod. “Sure. I think I got soap in my eye or something while we were loading the dishwasher. No biggie.”
“You made her do chores?” he asks, incredulous. “She’ll never come back.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to?” I glance between the two siblings. “The enchiladas were amazing, and I haven’t laughed that much in a long time. I don’t mind clearing a table or helping with dishes. I do it all the time at work. And as far as the game, I’m sure it can’t be as boring as some of the dates I’ve been on in the last few months.” At Boone’s surprised expression, I add, “Not including you.”
I think that makes it worse.
Boone’s eyebrows drop as he furrows his brow. “You’ve been dating?”
Shari coughs to cover the laugh that snorts out of her. “Ignore me.”
“Yes?” I have no idea why my answer comes out a question. “I mean, I’ve gone on dates since moving here.”
“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes at me for a beat before disappearing back through the door.
“What was that about?” I tip my head in the direction Boone disappeared.
“I think he’s jealous.” Shari stares out the window but I can see her fighting a smile in the reflection. “Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of you seeing other men.”
I follow her outside, my mouth partly hanging open at the idea of Boone feeling jealous. He wouldn’t if he saw his perceived competition. A small frisson of excitement sends a shiver over my skin. Could he be falling for me?
Boone isn’t like the conspiracy believers I use for information.
He’s not even in the same galaxy.
Danger, danger, Lucy Halliday.
Boone Santos is nothing but trouble.