His Perfect Partner by Priscilla Oliveras (10)

By the time Monday morning arrived, Tomás had come to a decision. Before he left for work, he’d find a way, a subtle way, to ask Yaz if she’d put him in touch with the mom from Hanson’s who’d asked about him.

It was the only solution to keep him from going crazy.

He’d spent the entire weekend thinking about Yaz’s damn scarf, barely stopping himself from asking Maria for it back so he could see if it still held Yaz’s subtle violet scent. Even sitting at his desk, when his mind should have been on the Linton campaign, he’d found thoughts of her vying for his attention.

This insane infatuation had to stop.

It was all a sign, really. Without Mrs. B, his life was in turmoil, but he couldn’t rely on the nanny forever. Mrs. B was getting older, and she’d made it clear that she wanted to spend more time with her own grandchildren. Her family emergency was a glaring wake-up call, a warning that while he couldn’t raise Maria alone, having a live-in nanny might not be the best solution.

The American dream he’d always envisioned for himself featured a mom, a dad, and kids. It was time he took some action to create that ideal for his daughter.

Starting today.

Tomás leaned against the kitchen island nursing a cup of coffee, his mind turning over potential lead-ins to his question. Yaz sat on a stool across from him, going over the day’s schedule while Maria finished her cereal.

Fresh-faced, dressed in black leggings and an “I love DANCE” sweatshirt, her long hair woven in an intricate braid, Yaz resembled one of the high school girls she taught at Hanson’s. She grinned at one of Maria’s knock-knock jokes, her laughter-filled gaze sliding to brush over him before going back to Maria.

Awareness heated his blood, sending it surging south. Damn, he felt like a randy teen again, his libido spiraling out of control around the hot girl on the dance team. Years later he still couldn’t have her—for different reasons now.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Maria hopped off her stool, eyes wide with concern. “I hafta get the book I borrowed from school! Be right back!”

She raced out of the kitchen, pigtails flying.

Now was his chance to ask.

Tomás cleared his throat before venturing in. “Between school, lunch, and her playdate, sounds like you two have a full day.”

Yaz nodded, reaching for Maria’s napkin to wipe up some milk splatters on the counter.

“By the way, if there are any notes from Maria’s school I should see, feel free to leave them on my desk like you did last week. And if you don’t mind, will you get me that phone number you mentioned Friday night and add it to the pile?”

Yaz’s hand paused mid-swipe. Her slack-jawed look of shock was not the reaction he’d anticipated. “Janet Miller’s? The mom from Hanson’s who asked about you?”

Tomás gulped. Maybe this was a mistake. He plunked his coffee mug on the island, ready to follow Maria and think of something he’d forgotten in his bedroom.

Then he noticed the infamous scarf fashionably tied around Yaz’s neck. Taunting him. His resolve to move forward hardened.

“It’s time. Mrs. B’s emergency, our talk the other night, it all got the wheels turning in my head.”

Not to mention, being around Yaz stirred up a hornet’s nest of thoughts and needs that swarmed around him, stingers ready to zoom in for the kill.

“Got your Perfect Partner Plan all figured out, huh?”

“I’m, uh, not actually calling it that.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” She picked up Maria’s bowl and edged past him on her way to the sink, not once making eye contact. “I guess when you decide to move, you move quickly.”

For a second he thought her smile seemed a little forced, but she bent to place the bowl in the dishwasher and Tomás couldn’t see her face anymore. Maybe he was projecting his own misgivings onto her. Dating again meant taking a huge step in a direction he’d tried to convince himself for years was not for him.

Yaz closed the dishwasher, then leaned a hip against the counter, her usual morning cheer dulled. “I’ll get the number from the studio and text it to you later.”

“Great, I appreciate it.”

Then why didn’t he feel any sense of excitement? Or his usual certainty when he set out on a course of action? Anything but this . . . emptiness.

“I’m ready!” Maria came bounding down the hallway, her purple and pink backpack slung over her shoulders.

So was he. Wading carefully into the dating pool, he’d be better able to provide for Maria.

Now that he had asked Yaz for the number, there was no turning back.

* * *

“Explain this to me again. With everything your dad’s going through, you take on a temporary nanny gig? What gives?”

Cheryl motioned for Yaz to scoot over on the old floral couch in the back room at Center Stage.

What gives?

Dios mío, if that wasn’t the million-dollar question.

With an hour until the shop opened at ten, she and Cheryl had the whole store to themselves. They had finished organizing boxes for inventory and had gravitated toward their favorite “girl talk” spot in high school.

The sofa material had faded and the cushions were now lumpy, but the smell of dance shoes, makeup, and packaging material set off a slide show of fond memories in Yaz’s mind. Good or bad, Yaz had shared it with Cheryl—here, in this corner of the room. Surrounded by the tools of her trade.

Head resting on the back cushion, Yaz stared blankly up at the ceiling. “Where should I begin?”

“How about with how your father’s doing?”

“Ay, not good. I mean, we’re really not—” Her voice shook and she broke off.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Cheryl pressed a hand against Yazmine’s thigh in sympathy. “I thought he was getting better.”

“So did we. Rosa, Lilí, and I found out over Thanksgiving that Dr. Lopez is running some new tests. We’re all meeting with him Saturday morning when the girls are back.”

“Isn’t that the day of the Christmas recital?”

“Mm-hmm. But Lilí gets in late Friday night for holiday break, and we didn’t want to wait until Monday to know the test results.” Her eyes stung and the ceiling became a blur. A tear snuck out to trail down her temple and she swiped it away, hating the sign of weakness.

“Hey, come here.” Cheryl pulled her into a comforting bear hug. “I can’t say it’s going to be all right. But I know you’ll be okay. No matter what happens. I’ll be here, whatever you need.”

Yaz hugged her back, relieved to have her best friend by her side again. “I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve missed our talks.”

“Me too. It’s good to be home.” Cheryl eased back and pulled her legs up to sit tailor fashion on the sofa. “But if your dad’s not doing well, how did you wind up volunteering to take care of this little girl? I mean, you never even babysat in high school.”

True, but now was different. She was different.

“What’s her name?” Cheryl asked.

“Maria.” Yaz’s spirits buoyed at the thought of her little partner in crime. Tomás had dubbed them that the other day when he’d walked into Maria’s room and found them in dress-up mode—complete with full makeup and up-dos. “She’s actually one of my students at Hanson’s. Oh, and she goes to Bright Minds. We’ll stop by your room next week when you start so you can meet her. She’s in the kindergarten class.”

“Wait, that’s my new room!”

Yaz perked up, excited about the idea that Maria might be in Cheryl’s class. “I thought they gave you the three-year-olds.”

“They wound up moving a few teaching assistants around. Plus, there’s talk about adding another kindergarten class next year, so my plan is to apply for that teacher position.” Cheryl propped her elbow along the back of the couch to rest her head against her palm. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re nannying. When Mom told me, I thought she’d gotten you and Rosa mixed up.”

“Funny, aren’t you?” Yaz shot Cheryl a droll look and her friend stuck out her tongue.

“You know what I mean,” Cheryl said. “You were always so focused. So driven. You didn’t have time for anything else. God, how I envied you and your certainty.”

“Yeah, well, life’s not so black and white anymore, is it?” Yaz murmured. There were no easy answers. Not to the questions she faced.

“What’s going on with you?” Cheryl nudged Yazmine’s shoulder with her fist. “Come on, spit it out.”

Yaz turned her head to look at her friend. Cheryl’s gray eyes studied her.

Here was her chance to vent. Get all her doubts out in the open. Hit the release valve on the tension that had been percolating inside her for a few years now.

“Have you ever wondered how different your life would be if you’d made a different choice along the way?” Yazmine’s whispered words hung in the air. As close to a confession as she could bring herself to admit aloud.

“Are you kidding me?” Cheryl huffed out a breath. “Don’t you remember? I’m the girl who changed her major five times before settling on early childhood education.”

“And if I recall correctly, I had suggested teaching to you from the beginning.” Yaz tapped her chest with a finger, giving Cheryl an I-know-it-all smirk.

“I’ll give you that. But you’re also the one who, when you met Ronnie last Christmas, told me he and I would get married, and look how that ended up.”

Yaz winced. Not one of her finer predictions. “I swear, that boy was so enamored, I figured he’d already bought your ring.”

“Me too.” Pain filled Cheryl’s eyes, turning them a stormy gray. “Who knew that at twenty-five we’d still be sitting here on this old couch together, licking our wounds after messy break-ups, huh?”

“Well, Victor was a self-centered, cheating jerk. But Ronnie . . .” Yaz shrugged, uncertain whether Cheryl was ready to hear that Yaz truly thought her ex was a nice guy. Not with the breakup so fresh. “You’re sure it’s really over between you two?”

“We were together four years. I told him I needed a commitment or I was taking this job and moving three hours away. And here I am!” Cheryl opened her arms wide to encompass the entire back room.

Wow, what a pair they made. At least Cheryl’s career was moving in the right direction. Yaz had sidelined herself for what many thought might be too long in her profession.

Maybe they were right. Or, maybe that was the scared, insecure side of her. The part of her Victor’s harsh words had hit with a sniper’s accuracy. “What would you say if I told you I was thinking about a major cha—”

“Good morning, girls. Staying out of trouble back here?” Mrs. Morgan swept into the storage room carrying a stack of flyers. The black curtain flapped closed behind her, essentially closing Yaz’s window of opportunity to confide in her best friend.

Her frustration simmered, but relief lowered the heat by reminding her that maybe this was for the best. Once her confession was out, she couldn’t take it back.

“Hi, Mom, inventory’s organized,” Cheryl answered. “What do you have there?”

“Something I’m hoping Yazmine won’t mind taking to Hanson’s for me. I’m sure she’s heading there this morning to rehearse.” She winked at Yaz. “I know you as well as I know my own daughter.”

Yaz hoped her smile didn’t look as forced as it felt. Of course Mrs. Morgan expected her to be at the studio. There wasn’t any other place Yaz felt more comfortable with herself. Maybe more than a confessional session with Cheryl, she should get to the studio. Spend a few hours sweating and dancing away her uncertainties.

Shrugging into her winter coat, Yaz slung her dance bag over her shoulder, then held out a hand to take the flyers. “Sure, what are they?”

“I’ve been so focused on my baby moving home, I forgot to print these earlier to advertise my annual end-of-the-year sale. One of the moms from Hanson’s asked me about it yesterday. Oh, what was her name again?” Mrs. Morgan rubbed her forehead as she tried to remember. “I swear old age is making me forgetful. Let me see . . . Janet . . . yes, Janet Miller.”

Ha! The irony of cosmic ironies. Like fate whispering the name in Mrs. Morgan’s ear, reminding Yaz she had no business being hurt about Tomás asking for Janet’s number this morning.

Maybe Mrs. Morgan had interrupted them at the right time after all. The only major change Yaz needed to make involved convincing Papi to keep fighting. Then she’d head back to New York, ready to make her mark . . . for both of them.

* * *

Shortly after noon on Thursday Tomás dropped his keys into the dish by the kitchen door, disappointed to find he’d either missed lunch with Maria and Yazmine or they’d gone to eat with Rey.

After his major bust of a coffee date with Janet Miller, he’d driven home hoping to catch Yaz and Maria enjoying a picnic in front of the fireplace like they’d done yesterday, when he was working in the Chicago office.

He smiled, remembering the selfie Yaz had sent of her and Maria, heads pressed together, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in hand. Even if he hadn’t saved the picture on his phone, the image had imprinted on his brain. Maria grinning with pleasure. Yaz flashing her saucy smile.

Unfortunately, he’d told Yaz not to hold lunch for him today, thinking things might go well with Janet.

Ha, not even twenty minutes into the coffee date he could tell the divorcée was still hung up on her ex. It wasn’t much longer before he couldn’t help but glance at his watch, wondering what Yaz and Maria might be up to at home. Wishing he was there to join them.

Laughter rang out from the backyard and Tomás moved to the kitchen window to peek outside.

Bundled up in her black ski jacket, mittens, and a dark knit cap, Yaz crouched down, a pile of snowballs at her feet. Maria let out a whoop of joy as she tossed a handful of snow at Yaz.

The wind promptly blew the white fluff away and Maria ducked for cover.

Looked like his little girl needed some reinforcements. Joining her would be the perfect way to take his mind off his disappointing reentry into the world of dating.

* * *

“Think you can hit me with a snowball and get away with it, señorita?” Yazmine pitched her voice low in her best dastardly villain impersonation.

“¡Sí! I do!” Maria scampered around the wooden swing set in the spacious backyard, her cry trailing off with laughter.

“Think again! You are soooo mine!”

The little minx poked her head around the slide’s edge. She shook her head no, the pompon on top of her pink cap jiggling before she disappeared behind her hiding place again.

Adrenaline pumping, Yaz crouched down to scoop up a snowball. A giggle bubbled up in her throat and she rose, ready to attack.

Something smacked against her back and she stumbled forward. She spun around, shocked to find Tomás standing near the back door.

“Take that!” he challenged, bending down to grab more snow. A sexy grin spread across his face and Yaz’s pulse skipped.

“Papá!” Maria cried. “¡Sálvame!”

“Stay where you are, m’ija. I’m coming to save you!”

Before Yaz could react, Tomás sprinted across the yard, the ends of his navy scarf flapping in the wind.

“Two against one?” she called out. “No problem. Lilí and I are reigning snowball champs on our street. I can take both of you. Easy!”

She scurried behind the bushes under the kitchen window and quickly began assembling an arsenal.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Tomás yelled.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His laughter answered her taunt and she found herself grinning like a fool.

“So it’s gonna be like that, huh?”

“We Midwesterners take our snow battles seriously.”

“Well, coming from south Texas, I may not have much experience, but I know how to win. ¡Mujer, eres mía!”

His battle cry sent a thrill of excitement down her spine. “Bring it on!”

Through the bushes she spied Tomás belly crawling from the slide to the nearby picnic bench in search of protection. Snow dusted his dark hair. Determination clenched his jaw muscles.

Carefully, Yaz took aim, crying out in triumph when her snowball splattered against his hip. He paused, sending a narrow-eyed glare in her direction. She launched another, missing slightly high of his shoulder.

“She’s hiding in the bushes, Maria!” Tomás called, rolling behind the picnic table. “I’ll draw her out and you get her.”

“Okay!” Maria answered.

Yaz snickered at his simple plan. Silly man. How little he knew about winter war tactics.

Suddenly Tomás jumped out from behind his lame hiding place—please, a wooden picnic table?—to stride directly toward her. He made an easy target and she wasted no time in shellacking him with snow.

She aimed for his broad chest, bombarding him with pinpoint accuracy again and again. Yet he kept coming, completely undeterred. Darn his tenacity.

Then she realized. Ay no! If she didn’t change position ASAP, he’d have her cornered between the bushes and the house in seconds.

Scooping up as many balls as she could, Yaz slid out from her hiding spot, intent on running to the side yard for better protection.

“Get her, Papá! Get her!”

A snowball smacked against her butt, the force pushing her forward. She let out something between a laugh and a scream and tried to pick up her pace. Unfortunately, in six inches of snow, she wasn’t as fast as Tomás.

Peeking over her shoulder, she saw him gaining on her, looking all Abominable Snowman-ish with his navy wool coat covered in the white powder. He gave her a devilish grin that sent heat pulsing through her.

Time for Plan B. Forget about retreat!

She swiveled around to face him, arm cocked back to let her ammunition fly. Instead, she found herself body-slammed to the ground.

The thick blanket of snow cushioned her fall, but Tomás’s heavyweight landing on top of her knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Holy sh—. Ay, Yazmine, estás bien?” Tomás struggled to get off her, but his arms sank up to his elbows when he tried to brace himself.

Her knit cap had been knocked askew and she peered up at him with one eye. The slack-jawed, wide-eyed look of utter shock on his face was absolutely priceless. Obviously she wasn’t the only one floored by his tackle.

She started to laugh, then winced at an ache in her back.

“O-owwww,” she groaned.

“Are you okay?” Tomás repeated, his voice gruff with concern.

She closed her eyes, gingerly shifting her body, taking inventory of any pain points. Hyperaware of his full length on top of her.

“I’ll get the Band-Aid box from the bathroom!” Maria cried.

“Estoy bien.” Yazmine’s voice came out a scratchy whisper.

“Huh?” Tomás bent his head closer to hers.

“I said—” She cleared her throat, tugging her cap back in place. When she opened her eyes Tomás’s handsome face filled her view, the cloudless sky above framing him. “I’m fine. I think.”

“Damn, that’s good.”

He heaved a sigh, his body sinking more heavily onto hers. Desire furled through her, curling her toes in her boots.

Yaz held her breath, allowing herself to enjoy—at least for a few precious moments—the sensual feel of him pressed so intimately against her.

“Why the heck did you stop like that?” he asked.

“Hey, you’re the one who tackled me.”

“I was aiming for your feet, trying to trip you up a little. I didn’t expect you to stop and come at me like some crazy commando.”

“You should know by now to expect the unexpected with me.” She grinned, her smile wavering when he pressed his forehead against hers.

“You are unbelievable.”

His minty breath warmed her face. Sent prickling heat to all parts of her body.

Suddenly the snow beneath her didn’t feel quite so cold. The crisp winter breeze lifting the white fluff in tiny whirls around them could have been a summer gust for all she knew.

“Most people would have kept running for cover. ¿Tu?” He nudged her nose with his. Awareness tightened her belly. “You come right at me like a crazy woman. You’re really something, you know that?”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t enough for him, and she couldn’t let herself want to be.

Guilt and despair sluiced in to fill her chest.

“I’m one of a kind,” she answered, longing for him to agree. Then get to work devising a plan for how they could be together.

He’d called her crazy. Maybe she was.

Tomás pulled back a fraction. Far enough for her to watch his gaze slide down to her lips, then back up to meet hers again. Heat flared in his dark mahogany eyes.

Her lips begged to taste his. Her fingers were desperate to run through his hair, pull his head down to hers.

“This wouldn’t be wise, would it?”

No, it wouldn’t. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Didn’t trust herself to make the smart choice.

He must have read her indecision, or sensed the desire she held on an insanely short leash.

With a muffled curse, he swooped down to cover her mouth with his. She welcomed him, wrapping her arms around his strong back.

His tongue coaxed her to open for him. Willingly, she did. He tasted like coffee and mint, and she laved it up, their tongues twisting and dancing together. He nipped at her lower lip before sucking it between his. Desire crested, crashing over her. Making her want more. Need more.

She moaned with pleasure.

All of a sudden he pulled back, rolling to his left to land in the snow next to her. The cold wind hit her, jarring her back to the reality of her situation.

She gasped for breath, her only consolation the sound of Tomás doing the same beside her.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“That shouldn’t have—”

They spoke at the same time, each breaking off to let the other finish. Yaz slapped her gloved hand over her face, mortified by her inability to control her impulses. Dios mío, had she ruined things between them? Please don’t let them slip into some awkward, uncomfortable place now.

“I’m sorry,” Tomás said. “I wasn’t—”

“Stop,” Yaz ordered. His apology would only make her feel worse. “This was a joint venture. So, equal blame. Equal pretending it never happened. Deal?”

There was a beat of tense silence. Her heart raced with fear. Would they not be able to go back to the easy camaraderie they’d shared before?

“Deal.”

Her body sagged with relief when he finally answered.

Tomás sat up, brushing off the snow as he stood. “You know, I came home hoping for a little consolation after my catastrophe of a coffee date. Instead, I wind up covered in snow, worried I might have injured everyone’s favorite dance instructor two days before the Christmas show. You definitely know how to make life interesting.”

“Hey, you’re the one doing the Chicago Bears linebacker imitation. Not me.”

“Whatever. I like my version of the story better. Commando Yazmine, that’s what I’m going to start calling you. Come on, let’s get inside.” Reaching for both her hands, Tomás carefully pulled her to her feet.

She couldn’t help but notice how quickly he let go of her once she was steady.

“I’ve got work to do,” he said. “And no telling how many Band-Aids Maria’s already ripped open.”

Yaz chuckled, gingerly moving through the snow. Her back felt a little achy, but she’d shake it off.

“You okay?” he asked again, his concern touching her in ways it might not have moments before.

“Yeah, but . . .” She stopped, waiting for him to turn and look at her. “Back there?” She nudged her head toward the ground behind them, at the deep impression their bodies had left in the snow. “We’re, we’re good, right? Friends?”

He shook some snow out of his hair, his dark gaze unreadable.

“Sure, friends.” One corner of his mouth curved up in the barest hint of his sexy little half smile. Sadly, Yaz couldn’t help but notice that his dimple didn’t wink at her this time.

As she started walking toward the back door again, disappointment weighed down her steps. Then she remembered something he’d mentioned earlier. “Hold on a minute, did you say catastrophe date?”

“I sure did. And FYI, your services as a matchmaker are terminated.”

The world dropped out from under her, leaving her wobbly-kneed and shell-shocked. “You and Janet hit it off?”

“Uh, no. A catastrophe isn’t usually a positive thing.” Tomás grimaced, stomping his feet on the cement porch to clean his shoes. “And I don’t want to go through another painful experience like that again.”

“So you’re giving up on your Perfect Partner Plan?”

The excited butterflies in her belly were not a good sign. Still, they took flight.

“No, but I’ll find my own dates from now on.”

That easily he hit the stop button on the happy dance music playing in her head. Of course he wouldn’t give up so easily. Maybe Janet Miller wasn’t the right person for Tomás, but neither was she.

His Perfect Partner was out there, and sooner or later he’d find her.