Chapter 5
five
Miranda had agreed to meet me to talk the day after her move. What she didn’t realize was by “talk” I meant strip off our clothes and fuck all damn night. I’d explain that part once I was in her house. Okay, I really did want to talk to her. I also wanted to offer a hand.
She had brushed off my offer to help her move, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need assistance. It just meant she was stubborn as hell and unsure of what was going on between us. So I went to her new place anyway, despite her telling me not to after I had texted her, and found her standing in the driveway looking both flustered and sexy. She looked like old school Miami, when criminals and pinup girls ruled the beach. Her hair was big and blond, her sunglasses white and round, her top off the shoulder and tight. She was wearing sandals with heels and directing a two-man moving crew with lots of hand wringing and odd noises.
“Oh geez, I don’t know. The living room?” she asked the one guy who was standing there with a lamp in one hand and a box under the other arm. “Do you think it will fit?”
He just stared at her blankly and waited.
“Yes, the living room. I can move it later if I need to.” She exhaled, the puff of air actually moving the hair on her forehead briefly.
I strolled up the drive, amused. “Moving sucks, doesn’t it?” I asked her.
She looked at me, startled. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here? And I have no idea. I’ve never moved before. But I have to admit, this is a little overwhelming.”
“That’s why when people offer to help you, you say yes.” I leaned over and kissed her briefly, before she would have time to pull away.
Her cheeks turned pink and she was so goddamn beautiful it hurt my heart.
“Lesson learned,” she said breathlessly. “Thanks for coming by. You said we needed to talk anyway.”
“That can wait. Tell me what you need me to do. I’m here to sweat on your behalf.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my. That is an offer I can’t refuse.”
She wasn’t going to refuse any of my offers before we were done. Hell, if I had my way, we’d never be done. Miranda had come back into my life unexpectedly, but that wasn’t surprising. Sooner or later it was likely she would have returned to Miami. What was far too tempting to pass up was that she had asked me for a baby. To me, it was just a sign that we were meant to continue to know each other. To be something. Lovers, for sure. It was more than I had ever expected to have, and I was grabbing it by the fucking fists and holding on tight.
This was my fantasy, sprung to life. The moment when I got to play out all those thoughts that had rolled around in my teen head. Only it was going to be better, because it was real.
I wanted it to be as real as possible.
“Good,” I told her. “I don’t want you to refuse me.”
She knew what I meant. She heard the double meaning. There was sexual tension zinging between us in the driveway. It was noon and we both were turned on. For me, it was a pleasant reminder of how amazing this was going to be. For her part, she looked equally turned on and terrified.
“I don’t remember you being such a naughty boy,” she murmured.
“You just weren’t paying attention.” I winked at her. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed I’m more man than boy now.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. The movers came back out of the house and went into the truck. They were lifting out a sofa.
“Where did all this furniture come from?” I asked.
“My parents. They sold their house and downsized to a condo in Broward. They bought all new stuff and gave me the old, which is awesome, because obviously I have nothing.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I can’t believe this is actually my place. This is so cool and amazing.”
“It’s a cute house. Can you give me a tour?”
“Sure. I mean, it’s just a rental, but I’m planning to be here at least two to three years. I’ll be done with school in two.” She started towards the house.
It was a squat midcentury style painted a peach color. It was actually a duplex, the house attached to it a mirror image. Both had turquoise doors. The neighbor’s stoop had yellow pots with flowers in it and two yellow rocking chairs on the patchy grass. There was a pumpkin next to the flowers. A nod to the season. I liked to see they were taking care of their half. It was a good indicator of decent neighbors.
“Where are you going to school?”
“Miami-Dade, the downtown campus. I chose this neighborhood because it’s reasonably close, yet you know it’s safe around here.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to check your locks just to make sure everything is secure.” I was also going to make sure the movers thought I lived there too because I did not want these guys thinking a woman like Miranda was flying solo. How hard would it be for one of them to come back at two in the morning and break in if they realized she was a single woman and vulnerable? The thought made my blood turn to ice.
“I think they’re decent, but sure, if it will make you feel better.”
“It would. It’s my job, after all.”
Miranda paused in the doorway and glanced back at me. “How did you end up a bodyguard?” she asked. “That’s not what you wanted to do.”
She knew way back when I had wanted to be a teacher. That I had spent a year in community college studying with that goal in mind. “School wasn’t for me,” I lied, because it was the easiest answer. “I do coach a baseball team though. Ten-year-olds. I love it.”
“I can picture you doing that. You’re great with kids.”
My eyebrows rose and I stared at her, waiting for her to realize what she had said.
She frowned. “Well, it’s true. You have caring qualities, that’s why I… want you.”
Her discomfort was adorable and I couldn’t help but tease her. “Want me for what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Miranda surprised me though. She lifted her chin and said, “I want you to get me pregnant.”
Right as the movers came up with the couch.
I grinned. That impressed me. She was not playing around here.
One shot me a sympathetic look. “First the house, then the baby, eh, amigo?”
“It looks that way. No harm in trying at least.” I gave Miranda a wink before smiling at the mover.
“That’s the best part. Trust me, I have three kids.” The guy didn’t look like he was straining to hold the couch but he did look like he wanted to get his job done. “Where do you want this?” he asked me.
“That’s for the woman of the house to decide.”
She gave me a look that indicated she knew precisely what I was doing.
“Where do you want it, baby?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. Normally I would have turned that in to a suggestive comment but not now, not with her. She wouldn’t want me to be dirty in front of strangers, and no matter how much I wanted Miranda, I respected her more.
It felt ridiculously natural to call Miranda a term of endearment. I hid it behind a smirk, because I was actually feeling fucked up, confused, and filled with longing. This little domestic scene should be real for Miranda and it wasn’t. This was what I wanted for myself—a home, a family, an ordinary life—but then as I got older, I had crushed my own dreams intentionally. I had focused on keeping life light and fun so that I wouldn’t be tempted to drag an innocent woman into our crazy family. But Miranda already knew what she was getting and it was an intriguing possibility—Miranda as mine.
In just a few days the earth had shifted. Possibilities had opened up. All with her appearance and a request that was anything but simple or small.
I had to play this right.
She was not going to be the one that got away or hell, the one I never got. Not anymore.
“Under the front window, thanks,” she said to the mover.
We had retreated into the house to give them room to maneuver when Miranda shot me a glare. “They’re going to think we’re a couple and that you live here.”
“Hey, you’re the one who asked me to get you pregnant,” I said, mildly.
She did not look amused. “I didn’t realize he was standing there. This isn’t a joke.”
“My point precisely. Look, Miranda, it’s better this way. Adult men should not know you live alone. It’s dangerous.”
We were murmuring in low voices in the kitchen.
For a second she looked like she was going to protest but then she just nodded. “That makes sense. I know you’re right, and honestly, I didn’t think about it before.”
“That’s what I’m here for. I aim to please.”
“You aim to make me uncomfortable.”
“That’s not true. I want you comfortable. Very, very comfortable.”
She leaned on the countertop, which was very retro. It was a faded yellow Formica. About to respond, she suddenly winced. “Ow, I just cut myself on the sink edge.”
“Are you okay? Let me see.” I moved over to her but she was already running her hand under the water.
“I’m fine.” She waved me off.
“Damn, no one has touched this place in fifty years.” It was like Lucille Ball might stroll through the door at any second. I turned the faucet off for her when she removed her hand. There was rust around the rim where the hardware met the countertop. “Everything is a little rickety in this place.”
“I like it. It’s homey.”
That was her theme apparently. Miranda wanted to be home. To make a home. To create a space for herself and eventually a baby. I understood that. I had never felt like my house growing up was a safe place. There was always too much tension for it to be all Leave It To Beaver, Cuban style.
Crazy to think we had both wanted the same damn thing.
She had just picked the wrong Garcia brother.
For this size rental in a safe neighborhood, this was probably the best she could get since she was going back to school. “You’re going to make it something special, I know. Like you.”
She opened her mouth, but then quickly shut it again. “I’m going to try.”
“What do you want me to do? Start unpacking some of these boxes?” There was at least six in the corner of the kitchen. “Or help the movers haul stuff in?”
“If you can help the movers that would cut down my time that I have to pay them.” She gave me a smile. “Thanks. You’re a good man.”
Compliments make me uncomfortable so I waved it off. More to the point, I wasn’t so sure I was a good man at the moment. Everything I was doing was pretty damn self-serving. Mostly, I was a man not above lifting a few boxes to get what I wanted. But I would do it for Miranda anyway.
I would do just about fucking anything for Miranda.
I peeled off my shirt and went to lift boxes in what someone might say was a pursuit of pussy. Hey, I couldn’t argue it. I figured I wasn’t the first man and I wouldn’t be the last to do just that.
Alejandro had stripped his shirt off and was hauling furniture, my mattress, and boxes galore in the afternoon heat like it wasn’t straining him at all. He was joking and laughing with the moving crew and looked like he didn’t mind in the slightest that he was spending the afternoon in manual labor for me, his brother’s ex-girlfriend. Or girlfriend. I never knew how to phrase that when people asked. Ex implied breakup and that wasn’t the truth. But we hadn’t been married so I wasn’t a widow. It was complicated. Like everything.
Like my attraction to Alejandro. He looked amazing without a shirt. Like a male stripper in a Vegas show. Muscular and covered in a sheen of sweat. His shorts kept slipping down and he would pull them up, but not before I caught a glimpse of some rock-hard abs descending.
I stood in the window, watching him, and unwrapping juice glasses. It was taking me forever to stack them in the dishwasher because I kept glancing outside to check out Alejandro. My mother had mentioned repeatedly the glasses had been in storage for months and needed to be washed before using and I felt like if I took the lazy way out and just put them in the cabinet, I wouldn’t be able to drink orange juice without guilt. My mother took no shortcuts when it came to her household. But I scrubbed and rinsed absently as I watched Alejandro come in and out.
Helping me and looking hot.
The question I kept asking myself was why? Why was he here? Why did he want to have sex with me?
The only answer I kept getting was that maybe that ancient crush was still in place. But that seemed so farfetched. He was a ladies’ man. Everyone knew that. I was no troll, but I wasn’t the hottest of the hot, either. I worked out, sure, and spent a ridiculous amount of time and effort sculpting my ass, but a lot of women in Miami had butts to envy. It must be more like I was the forbidden fruit since I had been with Max. Alejandro wanted a bite.
That thought gave me a swift kick of desire. Right downtown. A warm ache took up residence and wouldn’t go away. That kiss popped into my head and I gripped a glass so hard it almost shattered. I decided to screw the glasses and move on to the plates and I scrubbed and I rinsed and I got more and more turned on by the memory of that kiss and the idea that Alejandro could turn some of that charm on to satisfying me. Was he good in bed? Presumably. He certainly had enough experience if the rumors were true.
Chloe had mentioned he had a huge cock. I hadn’t studied it, but I wanted to. I wasn’t sure I knew what constituted a small versus large penis. I just didn’t have knowledge of multiple dicks, which made me grin as I stood at the sink. Girlfriends would show me dick pics but it was just hard to grasp out of context. Maybe it didn’t matter if he had a huge cock or not if he knew how to use it.
What would I do if Alejandro came up behind me, bent me over, and eased down my pants?
Would I feel guilty? Like it was a betrayal? Or would it just feel so damn good I didn’t give a shit.
Without realizing it, I spread my legs a little, visualizing all his rock-solid muscles flexing in his back and arms as he slammed his cock into me, large hands gripping my hips. Yum. I wanted that. I couldn’t deny it.
“The movers are done. They need you to sign their paperwork out front.”
I jumped, startled out of my dirty fantasy by Alejandro speaking. “Oh geez, you scared me.”
“What were you daydreaming about?” he asked. “Your cheeks are pink.”
I bit my lip. “Things I have no business daydreaming about. Ever.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tell me about it. I want to hear what you have no business thinking about.”
I couldn’t tell him I was thinking about him doing me from behind over my sink. But I did have a question for him. “Why sex, Alejandro? Explain it to me.”
He just went for a glass of water and wiped his forehead. “Go take care of the movers, Miranda.”
His voice was casual. Yet it felt a little bossy. “Hey, don’t tell me what to do. I’m still older than you.”
“I thought you liked a dominant man. You were with my brother, after all.”
That shocked me and pissed me off. I opened my mouth but I couldn’t think of anything to say. He had a point. I stormed off and went to handle the moving bill. I smiled and signed the paperwork and said my thanks and the whole time I was trying to find the best words to put Alejandro in his place. What had he known about my relationship with Max? Max hadn’t been abusive toward me at all. But he had been dominant. The middle child of three girls, I had craved the attention he gave me. At twenty years old having him tell me what to do had felt like affection, caring. He had nurtured me.
My mind was racing, trying to remember how Max and Alejandro had gotten along. It seemed to me that they had been close. No animosity.
“Your husband is the first guy I’ve seen who can keep up with us,” the guy who had introduced himself as Javi said. “If he needs a job we’re always hiring.”
Annoyed with Alejandro, for forcing me to be honest about the past, yet grateful he had saved me some money by helping out, I gave a non-committal smile. “I’ll let him know.”
Alejandro came to the door, his shirt back on, and cheerfully waved to the guys. “ Gracias , man, appreciate it.”
“No problem. Take care of your beautiful wife.” Javi gave me a wink. “Have a nice day and good luck with the baby making.”
Annoyed with both of them I just rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Why don’t you tell my husband to stop putting conditions on my request and just give me a baby?”
Javi ripped the paper off his clipboard and handed me a receipt. He glanced over at Alejandro. “Did you ask for a boat first or something? Damn, I should have done that. I didn’t even think to negotiate.”
“I doubt I’ll win this round,” Alejandro said.
This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t cute. It wasn’t a flirtation. This was my life. My future. My child.
I thanked the mover again and just pushed Alejandro back into the house. “Stop making a joke out of this,” I said to him after he closed the door. I was furious. “And what is your problem with your brother? Why do I have to admit to you that maybe Max wasn’t a perfect person? Which is stupid, I might add, because no one is perfect.”
“Max was a dick,” he said baldly. “A complete selfish, narcissistic asshole. And you’re the only one who doesn’t think so.”
Whatever I had expected him to say, it wasn’t that. I gasped. “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”
Alejandro leaned against my front door and crossed his arms over his chest. “Max was a dick,” he repeated. “He was a bully, a liar, manipulative, and shady as fuck. You have to know that. You can’t possibly believe that he was a model citizen.”
I was stunned. I had had no idea that Alejandro felt that way about Max. “So what does that make you? You always pretended to be cool with your brother. So are you a manipulative liar too?”
“I’m a peace keeper.” He smiled and held his hands out. “I always have been. Always will be. I learned at an early age that Max was good at using people and fooling people and that I looked like a jealous younger brother if I said anything.”
“Speaking of, yeah, you do.” I was outraged. Max had been far from perfect, I knew that. He was manipulative and he had a cruel streak that surfaced when we fought. But he was a good, kind man who had loved me and his family. “Max cared about you.”
But Alejandro just scoffed. “Max never cared about anything but himself. He was very good at playing the game.”
That was just insulting. “So you think that he didn’t care about me? That I’m just an idiot?” God, it was like everything I had ever thought destroyed in just a few words. I was staring at Alejandro feeling like I didn’t know him at all.
Zoe’s accusation rose up in my mind, ugly and unpleasant. A niggle of concern started deep inside me and began to pulse, refusing to let me ignore it.
“I think he cared about you,” he said softly, his voice heavy with regret. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Miranda. I just need you to understand that if I do this, give you a child, one, you know I’m doing it for you. Because this is what you want. And two, that you realize it won’t be a recreation of Max. It will be my child, and ultimately Max and I are nothing alike.”
I didn’t think of myself as someone who has nothing to say but Alejandro kept rendering me speechless. I realized I had made a mistake. That I hadn’t known him well in the years since Max had gone missing. Either Alejandro had changed or I had done a poor job of assessing his feelings back when he was a teenager. “This isn’t how I expected this to play out, I have to admit. Just forget I asked. Thanks for helping me move.” Now leave. That’s what I was thinking. Just get the fuck out of my house and stop insulting me.
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t move. He just watched me.
My cheeks felt hot from anger. His stare had me flustered. “It’s nice to see you. Let’s just start over on the right foot again. Forget I mentioned the whole baby thing. I don’t want to argue with you.”
It was a personality trait or flaw, some might say. I didn’t like to argue or fight with anyone. Just like that, I reversed and essentially apologized. I realized I had always done that with Max too. Max had taken advantage of it, I could admit that.
But Alejandro just shook his head. “We’re not arguing. I’m just communicating with you. Just making sure we are clear and on the same page. You couldn’t have thought that I would just hand over sperm without some questions.”
Maybe I had. I wasn’t even sure now. But I had made a plan and Alejandro wasn’t cooperating with it. “I didn’t expect that you would attack the integrity of my relationship with Max.” Damn, that sounded way more pompous than I had intended.
His eyebrows rose. “So you’re telling me that you have no doubts about Max’s perfection? That he was totally ethical, aboveboard, and never had a lie pass his lips in the entirety of the time you knew him?”
Guilt niggled at me. I couldn’t say that. I knew full well Max had been engaged in illegal activity. But I couldn’t betray him now. Nor was I going to admit that our relationship had flaws because it made me look stupid. “Of course I can’t say that. Everyone lies at some point. But you are implying he was evil and that isn’t true.”
No one had seen Max take care of me when I got the flu. How he had held my hair back while I threw up and made sure I had fluids and changed my sweat-soaked T-shirt with tender hands. Evil people don’t do those things.
What most people are is somewhere in between saint and Satan. They are shades of gray.
Look at me. I considered myself a decent person who wanted to cook and make a baby.
Yet I had been a drug dealer. An unintentional one, but a drug dealer nonetheless.
Not that Alejandro knew that.
But that was my point. He didn’t know everything about Max and me.
But I guess that was his point, too. I didn’t know everything about him and Max.
“Evil is a very dramatic word for it,” he said. “I would say selfish and narcissistic, definitely, like I said.” Alejandro gave me a smile. “I’m going to head out. Just think about it. I’ll be around if you want to talk. Or if you want to make a baby.”
It still didn’t make sense to me, what he wanted. “If you don’t have any love lost for your brother, then why would you be willing to help me?”
The smile turned sly, sensual. “Because I love you. My answer is the same as yours.”
That wasn’t reassuring at all. I just felt suspicious of him. It was an odd feeling in relation to Alejandro. “And on that note, goodnight, Alejandro.”
He just laughed. He didn’t try to convince me or explain himself further. “Goodnight, Miranda. Sleep tight.”
I didn’t think he would leave. But he just pulled open the door and started down the walk. His words reverberated in my confused brain.
Because I love you .
And suddenly I was going out the door after him. “Alejandro. Wait.”
He turned immediately, his expression curious, but not casual. He might think he fooled other people with his casual charm, but I knew him better. I did. Maybe I didn’t know everything. Hell, maybe I knew next to nothing. But I knew Alejandro had deep, loyal feelings for those he cared about. He stuck. He was a kind, caring man.
If he said he loved me, he did.
That right there was why I wanted him to be the father of my child.
My heart was racing and I opened my mind. I could lie and say I hadn’t been lonely or that I hadn’t missed the touch of a man who knew me, who genuinely cared about me. Hookups are not the same thing.
This wouldn’t be a commitment, but it was a relationship. This would only expand on the connection we already had and would give us both exactly what we wanted.
“I…” For some reason the words got stuck in my throat.
God, he was right. I wanted a dominant man. I wanted him to tell me. I wanted him to take me.
He knew it too. The corner of his mouth turned up in to a slight smile and he started toward the house, stalking me. He stopped right in front of me. I stared up at him, waiting. Then his hands came up to cup my cheeks and he leaned down and kissed me—a hard, angry, demanding kiss, that made my insides tighten with need. Expertly his tongue swept open my lips so that he could dominate my mouth, while his hands wound up into my hair and twisted the strands.
It felt like drowning. Being dragged under by a riptide, and swept out to the open ocean. That had happened to me when I was about ten years old, being dragged under by a current, and feeling powerless, panicked, until it had spit me back out.
This was similar, but it was the desire, an intense overwhelming arousal that had me stunned, unable to free myself. It wasn’t until he stepped back that I could even think.
“Get in the house, Miranda,” he said, his voice low and rough.
I didn’t even hesitate.