CHAPTER 10
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Rachel
Rachel accepted the bottle of water from Miguel and gulped until the icy drink quelled her thirst and cooled her overheated body.
“Better?” he asked while tucking his credit card back into his wallet.
She nodded and brought the plastic to her forehead with a smile of relief. “Definitely. Thank you.”
Gesturing with a nod of his head to the single free picnic table beneath the shade of the trees, Miguel scooped up their beers from the kiosk’s counter and turned. “After you, Sunshine.”
Rachel sidestepped the couple in line behind them and made a beeline for the empty table amidst the sea of zoo-goers. Her butt sank to the wooden bench as the late summer breeze blew through her hair. Tugging the long, sweaty strands back into a ponytail, Rachel grinned as Miguel took the seat across from her.
“Your zoo brew, ma’am.” With a wink, he pushed her craft beer across the table.
“Thank you, sir.” Lifting the plastic cup, Rachel giggled at the bug-eyed cartoon zebra looking back.
“Now, that’s an addict,” muttered Miguel as he stared at the weird, comical zebra.
Her belly tightened with amusement, eyeing the ridiculous cup in her hands. She choked on the air in her lungs as Miguel’s dark-brown eyes connected with hers in the shared moment of laughter, setting her heart on fire with each passing second. Effortless and easy, his soul called to hers amidst the humor.
“Probably more than caffeine though by the looks of it,” he added as he tugged the sunglasses from the top of his head and set them on the table with a final snicker.
Rachel nodded and sipped the overpriced zoo brew he’d treated her to. Over the rim of the cup, she studied his face—trailing her eyes over his smooth-shaven cheeks, sexy tanned skin, and endearing smile dancing on his lips.
More than his handsome features though, his shy sweetness charmed her in ways unexperienced before. His truths and raw admissions from the car ride were now confined to her heart, tucked safely away amidst her own secrets and insecurities. Grinning into her beer, Rachel crossed her legs beneath the table and relished the tingle in each nerve ending of her body.
“Why’re you staring at me?”
She snickered. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” His hand reached across the table and gripped hers, entangling their fingers like a spider web. Cold and moist with the condensation of the beer, his fingers squeezed. The pressure cast a dizzy spell on her brain.
Her gaze raked over the burn on his skin, drawing her attention up and along his arm until it disappeared beneath his t-shirt.
How far does it go?
He squeezed again. “Are you okay, Rach?”
“Oh!” She shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He tilted his head. “You sure? You look—”
“Hot,” she answered before releasing his fingers to bring the beer back to her lips. The wheat hops settled in her mouth, filling her palette with bursts of unexpected pineapple.
“Maybe you should have more water first,” Miguel suggested. Gripping the bottle, he tugged the cap off and pushed it into her hands again. “It’s warmer out here than I thought.”
With a nod, she gulped until the last drop hit her tongue.
“Maybe beer wasn’t the best choice...” he muttered as the water disappeared.
Rachel smiled and scooted to her left beneath the full shade of the tree.
He pointed to her shoulders. “Did you bring sunscreen? You look really—”
She cringed. “Am I burning already?” With a giggle, she dragged a palm over her beet-red arm. “I put some on before we left.”
Miguel shrugged but plastered a silly grin on his lips. “I can’t relate.”
Her gaze trailed over his dark arms once more, along his neck, and then to his face.
Where are you from, Miguel?
“Go on, ask me.” Bringing the beer to his mouth, he sipped, and replaced the cup on the table. “It’s okay,” he prodded.
Her heart jolted. “Wait, what?”
Did I say that out loud?
“It’s okay. Ask me where I’m from. Everyone always does.” He grinned but shrugged.
“No, I umm—” The breath left her lungs in a rush, deflating her shoulders as she frowned. “I don’t need to know. I...”
“It’s okay, Rach. I get asked all the time.” A sheepish smile appeared, replacing the brief moment of defensiveness coating his words. “I’m from Tucson.” He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Arizona.”
“I didn’t mean to...”
He leaned forward and reclasped her hands in his. With a squeeze on her palms, he brought her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “I know you didn’t,” he whispered. “Most people want to know if I’m here legally.”
Oh.
Her heart sank as he revealed another truth, a version of the question having flitted across her brain no more than sixty seconds ago.
Ugh.
“My mom immigrated from Mexico, hermosa dama.” Miguel winked and rubbed the pad of his thumb along the back of her hand.
A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as his sultry Spanish slipped from his lips with ease. Swallowing the sudden arousal building in her belly, she lifted her sandaled foot and ran it along the length of his bare calf beneath the table.
“You’re bilingual.”
“Si, Raquel.”
Her heart fluttered, giving way to the dizziness in her dehydrated brain. Resting her eyes on his handsome face, she licked her lips. “I haven’t spoken Spanish since high school.” Senora Meddings skirted along the edges of her youth, Rachel’s mediocre knowledge of the language a poor showing on her overall GPA.
“Eras un buen estudiante?”
She giggled. “I have no idea what you just asked me, but I can sing about a backpack if you want.” Combing through her memory bank, the melody returned to her mind as if the second period of sophomore year were no more than an hour prior. “Por qué? por qué? por qué? Es mi mochila tan pesada? No puedo levantaria. Por qué? Por qué?”
His cheeks flushed, darkening his tanned skin beyond recognition. Laughter fell from his lips as he tipped back in his seat and rested his hand over his heart. “Raquel...” he choked out, sucking in a deep breath of pure amusement.
Heat blanketed her body again, descending on her with a wave of embarrassment mixed with elation. “Stop!” she mustered, leaning forward to recapture his hands. “It’s all I can remember!” Giggling along with him, she snuck a peek at their neighboring table and waved at their confusion.
“You... are... ridiculous,” he choked out between fits of laughter. “What in the world did they teach you at—”
“John Marshall High School,” she answered, releasing his fingers to re-grip her beer. She sipped as his laughter subsided.
“That is the most absurd song I have ever heard.” Miguel took a drink and shook his head. “Do you even know what you were singing about?”
“A backpack,” she answered with confidence. “If you would have let me finish, the song is about all the items that fit inside.”
He snorted. “Well, how practical for an everyday conversation.”
Grinning from ear-to-ear, she ran her foot along his leg again, relishing the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Hardly. But it would seem you’d have the ability to teach me something a bit more useful.”
“Teach you?” He snickered.
Rachel nodded and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Indeed, sir. If we’re going to date, I need to learn to speak your language, right?” With a wink, she propped her chin on her palm and rested her elbow on the wooden tabletop.
His amused grin set her heart ablaze.
“Sunshine, I speak English, too.” Leaning forward, he curled his finger toward his body and motioned her closer.
Oh, yes please!
Rachel lifted her butt from the wooden bench, and with a smile, her lips met his. Soft and sweet, his kiss awakened her body, rousing her soul from the ashes left by the flame of Ian.
“Miguel,” she whispered.
“Raquel,” he answered—before his cell phone interrupted.
She groaned as his hand dipped into his pocket. Rolling her eyes, she sank back into her seat and tugged her beer closer as his body fell away.
Motioning with a single finger for a minute, his eyes pleaded with her. “It’s the restaurant. I’m so sorry.”
“Go on, it’s okay.”
He tapped accept and stood. His long, sexy strides glided toward the Reptile Walk and away from their bubble of budding connection.
Rachel released a deep breath and eyed his body as he moved with purpose. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tightened the cotton of his t-shirt with each step.
If I haven’t said it yet, thank you, Tripp Erickson.
Her eyes widened recalling the sequence of events that brought her to Miguel. She grinned over the memory of his mushroom ravioli. Swallowing the sweet recall, Rachel basked in the spotlight of his last couple of weeks’ attention—his obvious attraction and interest in her only matched by her own.
“You were so wrong, Ryan,” she whispered as Miguel dropped the phone from his ear and pocketed the device. “I didn’t need time for myself. I just needed...”
“Sorry,” Miguel apologized again as he sank back into his seat.
“Everything okay?”
He nodded. “It will be. Er, at least when your sister starts tomorrow.” With a wink, he sighed and downed the rest of his beer.
The breath caught in her throat. “Wait, Rose starts tomorrow?”
Miguel smiled. “I called her yesterday morning.” His cheeks flushed again. “Admittedly, out of desperation—”
“She was desperate, too!” Rachel interjected.
He laughed. “A perfect fit then. She agreed to start Monday morning at 7 AM.”
Rachel giggled and covered her mouth with her hands. “You have no idea what this means to her.” Swallowing, she leaned forward and gripped his hands once more. “What this means to me,” she added.
His fingers squeezed hers. “And me, novia.”
I have no idea what that means.
She eyed him. Minute by minute, she fell harder and faster for the brown-eyed man before her. Her brain dizzied as she gulped the last bit of beer, sending her mind into a light fog as he stood and circled the table. With his arm around her waist, he tugged her closer and pressed his lips to hers.
Rachel smiled against his mouth. “What does novia mean?” she whispered, cupping his cheek in her palm.
“Girlfriend,” he answered.
Forcing her brain to see the classroom whiteboard from a decade prior, the words materialized in her mind. “Me gusta ese,” she whispered.
I’d love to be your girlfriend, Miguel.
––––––––
Her hand glided along a baby goat, its coarse hair sending a shiver of excitement down her body. “Oh, my God, could you be any cuter?” she cooed and scratched its tiny ears.
“Smile,” Miguel’s soft voice whispered.
Rachel lifted her face and smiled for the photo, beaming at the backside of his phone. Her heart banged in her chest, their first date shattering every expectation by the minute.
“Adorable.” Miguel grinned and turned the phone in her direction.
With a giggle, she stared at her happiness on the screen, physical evidence of the elation coursing through her veins. “Me or the goat?”
He snorted as he bent down and scratched the ears of an overweight brown goat with a cracked horn. “You, of course.” Squinting, he eyed the red tag on the goat’s ear. “Hey there, Ryan,” he murmured.
Ryan the goat?
Rachel laughed. “His name is Ryan?”
He nodded. “I don’t know your brother, but—”
“Trust me, there’s a striking resemblance,” she added with a chuckle. She stood and stepped closer, running her hand over Ryan’s larger-than-life backside. “Brown eyes. Brown hair.” Stuffing her hand in a cup of oats, she pulled out a scoop and offered the treat to him. He huffed out an enthusiastic bleat and nibbled his way to her empty palm. “And as hungry as they come,” she added.
Miguel’s grin consumed his face. “Sounds like a great guy.”
“He is.” Wiping her hand on the hem of her dress, she stood and readjusted the canvas bag on her shoulder. “I kid. He’s the best actually.”
“Twins, right?”
Nodding, Rachel smiled. “I’ll remind you that I’m two minutes older and wiser though.”
Miguel snickered and sank to his knees before offering a scoop of oats to two baby goats snuggled together in the corner, both with prominent black spots on their noses despite their stark white bodies. “Here you go, guys,” he whispered and scattered the food before them.
Their little heads bobbed, pecking at the food—their tiny moans of delight warmed her heart.
Rachel stood and stepped to Miguel’s side, eyeing the baby goats at their feet. She tipped her head against his shoulder and sighed. “I love this,” she whispered. Bringing her gaze to his, she grinned. “Absolutely love it. The goats. The zoo. Our first date. All of it.” She pressed a kiss on his cheek and basked in the heat emitting from his body. “Thank you, Miguel.”
His arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her closer. Placing a return kiss on the top of her head, he steered her toward the zoo gift shop. “My pleasure, Sunshine.” With a firm grip on the door, he held it open for her to pass.
Rachel ducked beneath his arm and stepped inside, the immediate chill of air conditioning colliding with her skin. She sighed as Miguel followed her indoors.
“It feels so good in here.” Sucking in a breath of chilled oxygen, Rachel moaned.
“Sure does,” he answered and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow. He grinned and scooped up a stuffed brown goat from the barrel to his left. With a snicker, he stared at its goofy, wide-eyed face. “It’s Ryan.” He held the goat out with another laugh.
Its beady brown eyes and light-brown hair mirrored the fat soul on the other side of the door, his love for oats evident in the stuffed version in Miguel’s hand.
Rachel gripped the toy and giggled, running her hand over the soft fur. “Sure is,” she whispered and lifted her eyes to Miguel.
His smile stole her heart, the soft stare of his chocolate-brown eyes melting her soul as the temperature increased in the September afternoon. Her breath hitched in her throat, sucking her lungs dry. With a lick of her lips, she eyed his mouth, and desire fueled the rush of adrenaline in her veins.
“All stuffies are twenty percent off!” the teenaged boy called from behind the counter. His crooked-tooth grin materialized beside a cardboard giraffe’s face, its eyes covered by a pair of glasses, twisted into the number twenty.
“Oh, umm, thanks, dude,” answered Miguel with a snort. Returning his attention to the stuffed goat in his grasp, he snickered. “Looks like Ryan is coming home with us.”
A chill zipped through her, incited by more than just the change in temperature. Smiling as Miguel set Ryan on the counter and stuffed his hand in his back pocket for his wallet, Rachel savored the flush forming on her cheeks—the moment a picture of perfection and the conclusion to a perfect date.
The teenaged boy rang up the sale and stuffed Ryan into a plastic bag. Handing it straight over to Rachel, he smiled.
“Thank you,” she muttered and peeked inside.
Miguel gestured toward the exit. “Ready?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Gripping the bag, she stepped forward and pushed the door open, leading them back into the heat and the crowded sea of zoo-goers. “You know,” she spoke over her shoulder, “you didn’t have to buy me Ry—”
Her toe caught the wheel of a baby stroller and she stumbled, regaining her balance on the edge of a wooden log outlining the flamingo exhibit. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” she called, frantically searching for the parent.
A familiar deep snicker reached her ear, squeezing her heart with immediate ease. Turning, she lifted her gaze to Mitch Benson’s face—his piercing green eyes connected with hers as his lips widened in a smile.
“Rach?” His brow furrowed. “What’re you doing here?” Grabbing the handle on the stroller, he spun his not quite three-month old daughter, Olivia, around.
Her gaze fell to the little girl clothed in a pink onesie. Grinning at the floral headband adorning her forehead, she cooed. “Oh, just look at you, peanut! You’re getting so big!”
Rachel sank to her knees and offered her finger to baby Olivia, her chest tightening with adoration as the little girl gripped her pinky. “Mitch, she’s precious! And oh my gosh, she looks just like you!”
Mitch snorted. “Don’t tell—”
“Lauren.” Miguel’s voice caught in her ear, his breathless contribution to the conversation a sudden puncture to the balloon filling her heart.
“Miguel!” A soft, feminine voice caught in the breeze as Lauren appeared, seemingly out of thin air. She reached for Miguel and wrapped him in a hug. His eyes fluttered closed as he, without hesitation, returned her embrace.
Huh?
Her heart sank, eyeing the not-so-secret inhale he stole from her hair.
Wait. What?
Rachel frowned, witnessing the intimate reunion. Each passing second of their shared affection ruptured her swollen, happy heart. Swallowing the disappointment slowly building in her chest, she caught Miguel’s panicked stare as his eyes popped open.
Never been in love, huh? Then what the hell was that?
Rachel hung her head as the breath left her, the bliss in her heart going up in smoke. Burnt to a crisp.