3. Antonio
Chapter 3
Antonio
P aperwork was the worst part of working law enforcement because damn near every interaction with the public meant a form needed to be filled out, sometimes several. Finishing up the forms from my interaction with Elka No-last-name had taken a little longer than necessary because I couldn’t get those big blue eyes out of my mind, which frustrated me to no end. The woman was trouble with a capital T and not the good kind, not the kind a man would willingly sign up for because he knew whatever damage left in her wake would be well worth it.
Nope. Elka was the kind of trouble a man lived to regret, and I already had three lifetimes worth of regret. No thank you.
“You about done in here?” Ty strolled into my office with a bland expression on his face.
“Yep. A few minutes and I’ll be headed home.” Alone.
“How did things go with the stranded motorist?” If I hadn’t been so tired or distracted, I probably would have picked up on something strange in his tone.
“She refused my help,” I told him without looking up. “Several times. So eventually I left her to wait for Rusty.” I smiled to myself, thinking she probably waited at least three hours until Rusty caught a fish big enough to garner bragging rights until his next trip. On the heels of that smile came the guilt. Dammit.
Ty gave me that look—the disappointed dad look that I’d hated even when it had come from my own dad. When he was around, anyway. “Seriously?” Arms folded over his massive chest, military-issue biceps just as intimidating as the close-cropped haircut he still wore. “You left a woman stranded on the side of the road knowing Rusty was fishing and might forget about her altogether?”
“She called and spoke to him. Rusty told her he’d be there soon. Should I have waited with her?”
“Damn right you should have. Rusty got drunk and fell asleep on his boat. Derek called because he was saying something about the stranded girl waiting for him.”
Shit. “She’s still out there.” It wasn’t a question. Somehow, I knew she was sitting inside her little green hatchback. Waiting.
“Do you even care?” He shook his head and glared at me one last time. “I’ll go take care of it myself.” He turned away but stopped in the doorway. “This is unacceptable, Antonio. You know that.”
I did know it and that only pissed me off more. I stood and grabbed my belt. “I’ll do it.”
“You should have done it when I asked. Finish your paperwork and go home.” His frustration was a palpable thing between us and I couldn’t blame him at all. I screwed up—letting the pixie get to me to the point that I’d walked away from her, but who in their right mind would send help away when they clearly needed it?
“Yeah, I should have.”
Ty gave a short nod and left—a sign of just how angry he was. As one of my closest friends, we gave each other crap all the time but his anger today was new. I deserved it, so I just turned back to the stack of papers in front me and worked until I could no longer feel my fingers. Then headed home.
Alone.
Most days, that was how I liked it, but today the house felt too big and too quiet. The family-centric neighborhood had already folded up the sidewalks and turned in for the night. The faint muffle of TV shows and music wafted through slightly opened windows, and blue light flashed from several windows. I couldn’t stand the silence for too long and when the phone rang as I stepped out of the shower, I sighed in relief before answering. “Vargas.”
“Oh really, Antonio? Is that how you answer the phone? It’s so stiff and formal.”
“Hey, Mom.” I rolled my eyes, not bothering to respond to her diatribe on my phone manners. “If I ever stopped to look at the ID screen, maybe I wouldn’t answer.”
She laughed, the melodic sound making me smile. “Then I’d just pop by whenever I wanted. How was your day, honey?”
My mom was a force of nature and a force to be reckoned with. Her only goal was to see both of her children settled, married, and giving her plenty of grandchildren.
“It could have been better.” I didn’t tell her about the pixie because Mom would give me more hell than Tyson had. “How about you? Good day?” I listened while she told me all about going to breakfast with Betty and Helen. I opened and closed every single one of my cabinets in search of food.
“We went to the senior center to paint some of the older girls’ nails. They love that sort of thing, you know?” She went on and on about who was crushing on who, and who was flirting with someone else’s crush, all while I cursed my lack of attention to my fridge.
There was nothing but beer, a few slices of cheese, and some questionable deli meat.
“Did you do anything productive?” I asked.
“Other than search for your future bride? No, that keeps me pretty busy.”
I groaned. “Mom, please.”
She laughed again. “Oh, don’t you ‘Mom please’ me. I have a right to meddle in your life since I carried you in my body for forty-two weeks. Now I need your help with something. I’ll feed you in exchange.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
“That’s my boy.” I could hear the grin in her voice because, once again, she’d gotten exactly what she wanted.
“If there’s some spinster there to join us, I’m warning you now that I’m not staying.”
“It’s just us,” she said. “This time.” Before I could say another word, she ended the call. Crafty old lady.
Happy that I didn’t have to fend for myself for dinner, I slipped on my favorite faded-blue Chuck Taylors and made the short drive to Mom’s house—the home where my sister and I grew up. Like always, I went in through the front door. “Mom?”
“In the kitchen!”
I found her sitting at the kitchen table reading from her tablet, a glass of wine beside her. “Unwinding after a hard day?”
She arched a honey brown eyebrow my way and took a long sip from her wine before she spoke. “This drink is for every day I had to worry about you over in New Orleans.”
I swallowed down a groan because that was not the conversation I wanted to have. Again. Ever. “You needed some help?”
She nodded and pointed me towards the stove, whose oven door needed fixing. She got started on dinner. Since I was there, I changed a few blown bulbs and tightened a few handles on her cabinets. “You don’t need to do all that, honey.”
“I know I don’t but you’re my best girl, Mom.”
“As much as I love that, I wish you had a best girl closer to your own age.”
“How long until dinner?” The answer wasn’t soon enough, so I went through the house, tightening every damn screw I set my eyes on just to put some distance between Mom and the questions about my love life.
Twenty minutes later, we sat down to a table filled with steaming Salisbury steak with onion gravy, buttery mashed potatoes, and sweet peas. “Worth the inquisition?”
I took a few bites and closed my eyes as the flavors exploded on my tongue. “Depends on how much ammo you have left.”
She laughed again. “Stop being so dramatic and tell me about your love life.”
“No love life to speak of—you know that.”
“No. What I know is that you don’t date anyone in town, and you don’t bring women home. That doesn’t mean you don’t keep company with the opposite sex.”
She was right, but that wasn’t something a guy wanted to talk about with his mother. “I’m not seeing anyone, Mom.” Hadn’t been out with a woman in months because I couldn’t muster up the energy or the give a damn to do so.
“Well maybe this calendar business will help you find a nice girl. Seeing you at your best—and in your uniform too—they’ll fall at your feet. If you smiled a little more.”
“I smile plenty.”
Mom put down her fork and folded her arms. “Not enough to give me some grandbabies.”
I walked right into that one. “There’s still Cait,” I said hopefully.
“Yeah right.” She scoffed. “I have to get her back to Tulip first and then I’ll work on getting some grandchildren out of her too. But, Antonio, you’re older and it’s past time for me to bounce some babies on these knees before they get too old.”
I barked out a laugh that. “Like you’d dare let your knees do something as subversive as get old.” She was too damn stubborn for that. She was also too stubborn to give up on what she felt was her due: grandkids.
“That’s true but still it would be nice to have kids running around the house again.” The wistfulness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed but I didn’t comment.
“Thanks for dinner, Mom. It was delicious, as always.” Nothing beat my mom’s cooking. It was something everyone said, but with her, it was true. She’d learned to make many Colombian dishes to please Dad—when he’d bothered to show up, anyway. He disappeared altogether when I was about twelve years old. In the years since, she’d brushed up on her southern cuisine in an effort, I was sure, to guarantee I didn’t stray too far from home again.
She groaned and rolled her eyes, which was ridiculous, but it was better than the on-tap sadness she could produce with ease. “Oh fine. I’ll stop. For now.” I didn’t miss the emphasis because she didn’t want me to. Now that Ry and Preston were happily matched up, the whole town had gone matchmaking crazy and I intended to steer clear of it all. “But I will say this, Antonio: you are a good man. No matter what you think, you are. I’m your mother so you have to listen to me. You deserve to have it all. You really do.”
I didn’t know about that but arguing with her was useless. She didn’t know the important stuff. She didn’t know how I’d failed to protect the woman I loved—who, it turned out, I hadn’t known as well as I thought. Mom didn’t know and, if I could help it, she never would. “Thanks for believin’ in me, Mom.” She’d always been on my side and in my corner, even when she probably shouldn’t have. I loved her for it.
At the door, I wrapped her in my arms and squeezed tight.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s that for?” she asked.
“For being the best mom a guy could ask for.”
Her cheeks turned pink and she brushed away a stray tear. “I love you too, son. Now get on out of here before I forget I promised to stop meddling.”
With a long, slightly terrified laugh, I walked to my car in the driveway and waited until Mom was safely inside before I backed out. Tulip was a small town but a little bit of caution went a long way.
Though it was barely eight, most of the town was in for the night, with the exception of a few restaurants and the only bar in town, Black Thumb. For a second, I thought of stopping in, grabbing a drink and a chat with whoever was inside. But I was too tired and in no mood for company, so I kept driving until I turned down the familiar tree-lined street where most of the yards were littered with toys and decorated with flowers and lawn ornaments.
Tulip was such a far cry from New Orleans that, some days, I wondered if those years had been some kind of nightmare. A walking nightmare filled with the worst humanity had to offer until one bright burst of sunshine walked in and made it all bearable. Manageable. Until it wasn’t manageable any longer. Until I had to leave, tail tucked between my legs, and headed home.
Turning down my block, the first thing I noticed was the trailer parked in the empty cottage across the street from me. Directly across the street from me. A very familiar trailer. When I drove past to turn into my own driveway, I saw the daisy that confirmed my worst fears.
“Why me?”
Then I realized it didn’t matter. Tulip was a small town. I couldn’t ignore her, but I could keep an eye on her.
From a distance.