Dancing in a Hurricane (32 page)

Bree blinked back tears. This family. Oh, God, she loved them all. "Thank you."

He drew back and put his arm around her shoulder. "I want to dance!"

Another deafening cheer and Sixto flipped a switch in the kitchen that turned on the hundreds of lights strung around the patio. More cheers. He used the remote to turn on Salsa music and all three patio doors were opened as everyone brought their drinks outside with them.

Sixto Sr. offered Bree his arm. "May I have the first dance?"

She opened her mouth to say she didn't dance, or that his wife may object, or something else proper and demure. Instead, she blurted, "I'd love to dance."

He smiled, that same smile that Sixto used to melt her resolve. Now she knew why Estelle doted on this man.

***

Dancing lasted until midnight, Sixto tended bar and every few minutes the blender whirred or shot glasses clicked. Laughter and contagious joy infused Bree with a pleasant longing. The children danced themselves out and slept on the couches or on the floor. Estella put the twins to sleep on Bree's bed and she snuck away once in a while just to look at them.

Their mother, Laline, was as dark as Sixto and her husband, Tom, was blonde like Bree. This would be what her children would look like if she and Sixto…She stopped herself from jumping too far ahead.

Sixto Sr. announced, "Thank you all for celebrating my birthday with me." He hefted his glass. "And especially Bree and Sixto, for opening your home to this group of banditos."

Shouts of "Yee-haw!" and "¡
Dale
!" echoed around the pool.

He pulled his wife into his arms. "Now pack up your babies and go home and do whatever it is you do to make such beautiful children."

More shouts and a call of "Booty!" echoed.

Estelle swatted his chest, smiling shyly. They kissed and Sixto Sr. whispered something into her ear. She melted into him as if they were newlyweds.

Another fifteen minutes of hugs and everyone moved outside and strapped their little ones into their car seats. Bree helped bundle up the twins and their parents took them, thanking her for letting them use her bed. Evidently, Cloe had not allowed anyone access to her room.

Bree sat on her bed and touched the warm spots where the girls slept. She lifted the blanket that covered them and smelled it. A scent like no other: cozy and warm, sweet and baby-soft. She was ready for one or two of her own. Where was Sixto's head at?

***

Sixto walked his family out to their cars, parked three-deep in the driveway.

"I cannot believe Bree is related to that Cloe," his mother said. "Such a nice, young girl."

Cheena patted his arm. "You're never going to find another one like her. Don't let her get away."

Dayami walked past. "I'm glad Cloe died. Otherwise you wouldn't have met—"

"Dayami!" Estella scolded.

"Hey, the woman was pure evil," Dayami announced.

Estella crossed herself.

"Well," Laline said. "It's true. We never liked Cloe and she hated us." She rubbed Sixto's shoulder. "You would do well to keep a woman like Bree."

Sixto looked to his brothers-in-law, but they stood looking at him with pitying grins on their faces. "Guys? Help?"

Julio shrugged. "The
chicas
are right this time."

Sixto shook his head. "Yeah, but—"

"No 'but'," Marisa said, moving in face-to-face with Sixto. "You know she's good for you." She gestured to Julio, Tom, and Estefan. "And look how happy these married men are."

The guys laughed and said goodbye, called their wives away from the circle they formed around Sixto, and drove off.

He enjoyed a moment of relative quiet, the surf, crickets, a dog barking. But already he missed the sound of children's voices. He wanted a home with the sacred bedtime ritual hour. Pajamas, brushing teeth, bedtime stories, one last glass of water. Chasing the monsters out from under the bed and tucking the babies in, their teddy bears on the pillows next to them.

Then came the magic hour when momma and papa snuggled on the couch, whispering, waiting to hear if there would be a child's cry, or if it worked and they had fallen asleep.

He shook his head, damn he was getting soft. That last shot of Jack Daniels put him over the top, but all evening, every time he looked at Bree, he thought about what he wanted to tell her and fear threatened to choke him. So he choked the anxiety down with alcohol.

Walking into the house, he went out onto the patio where Bree had a handful of toys. She sat on her heels and reached under a lounge chair. He sat on it and reclined, his face close to hers. "Anything interesting?"

She glanced up at him, a teasing smile on her face. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

"If you say anything about a spider, I'm throwing you in the pool."

"Oh." She frowned. "I'm sorry I teased you in front of your family. It just came out."

He ran his knuckles on her arm. "Don't apologize, it was funny. My family knew you weren't trying to be cruel."

Her brows drew together and she looked worried. "You were fifteen when you developed arachnophobia?"

"Yeah." He stood. "It's one of those stories I don't talk about." He smiled. "Kind of like whatever Cloe did to you."

Bree nodded and stood, a Barbie and a male action figure in her hands. "Someday." She looked up at him. "Maybe we can exchange our secrets."

"We will, Bree." He stepped closer. "Soon." His breath grew shallow. It was time to talk to her, but even the impressive amount of Jack Daniels in his gut didn't keep fear from surfacing.

He took the Barbie from her. "No clothes?"

"I'm guessing one or more of your nephews wanted to see what Barbie has going on."

"Used to do the same thing myself." He reached for the GI Joe. "Funny. I'd always pretend Joe was my brother."

She let out a startled laugh. "Really? Why?"

He looked at her. "I lived in a house with six women. When I was a kid, the one thing I desired most in life was a brother."

"I don't blame you."

He gave an exaggerated shiver. "You can't imagine." She'd had a lot of grief from her one sister. Multiply that by five. He posed Joe and Barbie in seated positions and set them on the table. "When I went to buy toys for the nephews, I spent a half hour in the action figure aisle reconnecting with my bros."

She sighed. "That's so sweet."

"I don't know. Maybe crazy. I bought one Joe of each color." He grinned. "And a hundred dollars worth of accessories."

"It was like Christmas for you."

"Yeah. I've always thought it would be nice to have a son to…" What the heck was he saying? "Sorry. I'm a little snorked."

Bree glanced away. "I couldn't tell." She picked up an empty beer bottle and carried it to the bar. "Seems like we've both been drinking too much lately."

"You're right." He crossed his arms. "Why do you think we do it?"

She glanced at him and then busied herself wiping off the top of the bar. "Escaping."

"Escaping what?" He knew what he hid from. Commitment. But her?

She shrugged as she washed her hands. "Some things are too difficult to face head on."

"Evasive answer."

Squaring her shoulders, she met his stare. "I'm not 'snorked' enough to start this conversation." Her voice held accusation.

He wasn't going to let her ruin this perfect evening. The music changed to a slow beat and he walked toward her. "I know what'll get you talking." He held out his hand. "Dance with me?"

She hesitated then sighed, her face softening with a sly smile. When she came out from behind the bar, she slid her hand in his. Her expression, her trembling grip, told him everything he needed to know. She was in love with him. My God, how did he deserve this? He pulled her into his arms. Instead of a dance, it became an embrace. His confused, overwhelming, anxious emotions grabbed a hold of her and wouldn't let go.

She wrapped herself around him just as tightly and his entire body heated. Her forehead nestled against his neck, her breath caressing his chest.

"I want to tell you," his voice came out unsteady. "It's more than physical."

She gasped in a breath. "Oh, Sixto, you don't know how long I've been waiting for you to realize that. It's the same for me. I don't understand how this happened between us, but it's strong. I can't fight it—I don't want to."

"I had a tough time recognizing it." He hated the weakness, the fear, that kept him from her for this long.

She pulled back and looked at him. "This last week. Did you… Were you with someone?" Her eyes seemed wary, one wrong word from him and she would shatter like crystal.

"I should have told you sooner. That first night, after we went to Target, I ended up drinking at a bar. Élian came to pick me up, but I wasn't ready to leave. Then Rico showed up and they hauled me out. I slept on their couch."

"But you were gone nearly the whole week." Her voice sounded so childlike, it killed him that he'd hurt her.

"I was avoiding you—the ultimatum? Leave you alone or sell the house to you."

She nodded, waiting for more.

"There is a third choice." He ran a hand up her spine, under her hair, to the nape of her neck. Every inch of her was soft, silky, her skin, her hair.

Waiting one more second would destroy him. He lowered his lips to hers, gently brushing against her mouth. His cock, already hard, jerked to attention, sucking the blood from his brain.

He kissed her, their lips touching, opening over her tentative kiss. Her breath was sweet, he breathed her in, wanting every molecule of her.

She pulled him closer, her hands on his back.

Tasting her with his tongue, he heard her breathy moan, she parted her lips, tentatively, softly, like the petals of a rose. Jeez, he sounded like a poet. Maybe this was what he needed in his song writing. Something beautiful to sing about.

She opened for him, he moved his tongue into her mouth, touched her teeth. Her tongue licked his, making him insane for her. He stepped closer, pulling her up off the concrete, needing to possess all of her. He lapped at her, sucking her tongue, tasting the insides of her cheeks, her lips, loving the shy way she responded, learned from his kiss.

Her tongue swirled around his, she ran the tip over his teeth and traced his lips. Perfect, the most entrancing kiss he'd ever shared. His body was fevered, ready to make her his woman. Everything he wanted in a lover—in a love. He would carry her to his bed. "Cloe."

He felt her stiffen.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bree stopped, shook her head. No, Sixto hadn't just called her by her sister's name, had he? A manic bubble of laughter threatened. Silly girl, you were only hearing things.

Reality chilled her blood and built a wall between them.

She pushed out of his arms and looked up into his eyes. He seemed confused but then the color drained from his face, his eyes opened wide and his mouth opened. "God no, Bree—"

"Yes, Sixto, you did." She sounded so calm, but her blood pressure skyrocketed. Her heart slammed a wild rhythm, the rushing sound in her ears deafened her, and she felt close to fainting.

She walked past him, toward her room.

He grabbed her arm. "Wait, please. I'm sorry. It was just the intensity of the moment."

She turned and looked up at him, her first reaction was tears and she let them fill her eyes, but then she allowed anger to slide in. Her voice warbled. "You said you and Cloe were
not
lovers. How can I believe that when you used her name? Did you talk her into your "just sex" theory?"

"No. I swear." He held up his hands. "There was never anything between us. You've got to believe me."

Bree turned away and swiped at the moisture in her eyes. "How can I?"

"It's the liquor, Bree." His voice sounded raw. "And my family. They kept saying Cloe's name out in the driveway."

"What?" Why would they do that?

He stepped in front of her. "Bree, I'm telling you the truth."

She tried to pry his fingers from her arm, but he had an iron grip. "Please?"

He released her, she walked to her patio door, went inside, and closed it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing, watching her. She pulled the blinds shut but didn't lock the door. He wouldn't come in.

Her clock said one in the morning. She turned on her bedside lamp. In her bathroom, she took the smiling jack-o-lantern window cling from the mirror and tossed it in the trash. Halloween was one of her favorite holidays. Until just now.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. Despair shone in her eyes. "Aw, hell!" Cloe came between Kyle and her. Why was she surprised that her sister came between her and Sixto as well? She brushed her teeth and took off her mascara, cleansed her face and spread on her night cream.

After turning off the bathroom light, she changed into a nightgown. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she listened for sounds in the house. The speakers out at the pool were silent and she didn't hear Sixto. He must have gone into his room.