Chapter Nineteen
H e made me lemonade .
Honey and a cut lemon on the counter, the evidence was right there.
He made my favorite drink. From scratch .
Except he’d pushed me away and said we’d never kiss again, but when my lips had touched his, he’d groaned . I know he did. I’d heard it all the way to my soul. But now that kiss was dead and I was sitting here staring at homemade lemonade.
I was so confused and so out of my element, my eyes welled with emotions I didn’t know what to do with.
As if he were my saving grace, I looked up at him.
Just like when he was texting his sister, he frowned. “It’s just lemonade.”
It wasn’t just anything. “Okay.” It was kindness and thoughtfulness, and no one had ever done anything like that for me.
“Drink,” he commanded, using the same tone of voice he’d used when he’d put the whiskey in front of me.
And just like then, I took a sip.
Tart, perfect amount of sweetness, and ice cold—I wanted to sob in my lemonade. How come I couldn’t have met someone like him before I’d foolishly married Brian? Who was I kidding? What did I have to offer someone like him? Clumsiness that made me pull a ski mask off a gang member who was robbing us?
His frown deepened. “Not sweet enough?”
“Why am I really here?” That was a better question.
He turned back to his fancy stovetop that had a grill in the middle of six burners, and he flipped the red peppers he was cooking. “You shouldn’t be alone when you have a grade two concussion.”
“That’s what I thought.” Miserable, I pushed the lemonade away as a knock sounded on the door.
Sawyer set the tongs down and issued a command I wasn’t even sure he was conscious of saying, he was so accustomed to protecting people. “Wait here.”
I watched the muscles in his thighs carry him toward his front entry as his wide shoulders stretched the fabric of his T-shirt.
He opened the door. “Hey.”
A man said something in Spanish I couldn’t decipher.
“Yeah,” Sawyer answered him in English. “We’re in the kitchen.”
Sawyer came back, followed by a dark-haired, dark-eyed man who was a couple inches shorter than Sawyer, but every bit as muscular. But unlike Sawyer, a smile spread across his face when he saw me.
“Miss Jenkins, at last we meet.” The man held his hand out. “André Luna.”
I scooted off the stool and shook his hand. “Mr. Luna, I’m so sorry about your Escalade.”
He brushed it off. “Cars are replaceable, chica. People are not. No worries. I’m just glad you’re okay. And call me André.” He nodded at the stool I’d just vacated. “Have a seat.”
I sat back down.
Sawyer went to the stove. “You hungry?”
“No, gracias.” Luna sat next to me and set a tablet and the latest model of a new cell phone down, pushing them toward me. “Your number’s programmed into the phone for you, chica, but I’m afraid you’re on your own as far as contacts. Do you have a backup anywhere? I can program it in for you if you do.”
I stared. “Those are for me?”
André tipped his chin in a movement that wasn’t unlike Sawyer—quick and precise. “Yes, to replace the ones you lost. If you have a backup for your files for your tablet, I can update that too.”
I looked between him and Sawyer, but Sawyer still had his back to me. “I, um, thank you .” Sawyer must have put André up to this. As someone who owned her own business, I knew this wasn’t just an incredibly nice gesture, it was time and effort that took away from what I was sure was André’s very busy day. “I can update them.” I could figure it out.
He picked up the cell phone. “This is a slightly newer version of your old phone. It has face recognition. You’ll have to set it up.” He swept his finger across the screen a few times and handed me the phone. “Just follow the prompts.”
I took the phone. “How did you know what model cell phone I had?”
He chuckled. “I know lots of things, chica.” He winked. “Set up the face ID.”
Wow. He was devastatingly handsome. He wasn’t Sawyer, but his smile alone I was sure stopped women in their tracks. Looking away from him, I did as he said. When I was done, I set the phone down.
André’s expression turned deadly serious. “You willing to talk about last night?”
My stomach knotted. “Okay, but I don’t remember much,” I lied.
“Can you tell me anything about the carjacker that you remember? Any identifying marks, description, anything?”
“It was dark,” I said too quickly, adding, “and it happened really fast.” I glanced at Sawyer, who’d turned to face us. “Maybe Sawyer remembers what the man looks like?”
Sawyer shook his head. “I didn’t see his face. He was already heading for the SUV. All I saw was his back after his mask came off.”
“And the tattoo on his wrist,” André added, before looking back at me. “The men who took the SUV are part of the Tres Angulos gang, and unfortunately, they now have your personal information. As I’m sure Sawyer explained to you, it’s in your best interest to lie low until we find the guys behind this. In the meantime, you’ll be safe here.” He stood to leave. “We have a man out front, and you’re in good hands with Sawyer. I’ll be in touch when we know more.”
“How long will it take?” I blurted. “I mean, how long before you think you’ll find them? Or my purse?” Or before I could go home?
“Unfortunately, chica, I would count your belongings as a loss. If we’re lucky, we could wrap this up in a few hours. If not?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Hard to say, but we’re working on it. We don’t want this to drag out any more than you do. We know you have a life to get back to.” He glanced at Sawyer and said something in Spanish.
Sawyer nodded once.
“I’ll see myself out. Enjoy your evening.” With a smile that was more natural than practiced, André left.
But his words replayed in my head like a cruel joke.
We know you have a life to get back to.