Chapter 6 #2
His gut roiled. He strode to her and cupped her cheek. “ Querida , let’s not make jokes about that.”
“Ace—”
“No.” He fought back the horror trying to seep in, of how he’d felt only a few hours ago. “Today, driving to your place, I thought you were fucking dead, Maggie. When I saw your Jeep…” Fuck . He sucked in a breath.
Her gaze roamed his face, her gaze softening. “Okay, Ace. No jokes.”
He nodded and stepped back. “Let’s see what I’ve got to eat.”
In the kitchen, he set her up on a stool at his island, and opened his fridge.
He cooked occasionally—like the dinner he’d made her—but the rest of the time, his parents dropped off food, or he ordered takeout. Aline Oliveira was perpetually worried that her oldest son didn’t eat enough, and regularly dropped off things that Ace’s dad made.
He pulled out a tray of little pies with a flaky pastry, and popped some in the microwave.
“What’s that?” Maggie asked.
“Brazilian empadas. Not to be confused with Spanish empanadas.”
“I like empanadas.”
“Then you’ll love these. Empadas are round, not crescent shaped. These ones are filled with chicken, olives, and requeij?o. A Brazilian cream cheese.”
Her eyes went wide. “Sounds great. Did you make them?”
He smiled. “No. My cooking skills don’t extend that far. My father made these.”
“They live close? Your folks?”
“In Bernal Heights.” He pulled plates out and set one in front of her. “And my brother, Rodrigo, is in a care facility not far from here.”
“He has a disability?”
“A brain injury from a drug overdose in his teens. He’s a great guy. We game together, and he’s addicted to making models. Usually cars and planes.” He paused. “Your parents are south of here, right?”
She nodded. “Monterey. My mom cooks and gardens, and walks on the beach. Dad golfs.”
Ace ate a forkful of his pie standing up. “You’re close?”
She shrugged. “Fairly close. I’m an only child, and let’s just say, my mom and dad are both a bit perplexed not to have a child exactly like them.
My mom is the stereotype of the blonde, American housewife.
She loves me, but often gives me this look like she can’t quite understand where I came from.
Becoming a helicopter pilot, joining the Navy, it all left her perplexed.
” Maggie sighed. “My father is third-generation American. His family are originally from Guatemala. He’s a self-made man, owned a small fleet of planes.
He sold them for several million dollars before he retired.
He believes a man provides…and that I shouldn’t be in debt, running a business, or having a career. ”
Ace heard the frustration and bitterness in her voice.
“How can they not be proud of everything you’ve done? You served your country. You’ve used your grit and skill to start a kickass business.” His anger flared. “Fuck them. If they don’t understand, they’re crazy.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Shit . He wanted to touch her. Desperately. He focused on his food.
“This is so good,” she said.
“Dad’s a great cook.”
Maggie licked her lips and damned if Ace didn’t feel it in his cock.
She cleared her throat. “So, I have some jobs tomorrow—”
Ace frowned. “You can’t go to work. It isn’t safe.”
Her head snapped up. “Ace, I have to work.”
“And let this fucker have easy access to you? No.”
Her fork clattered to her plate and she jumped off the stool. “Ace, if I don’t work, I can’t pay my loans, and I lose Hetty. I lose everything. With a baby on the way, I can’t afford that.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he growled.
That stubborn chin he knew all too well jutted out. “I can take care of myself. I’m not letting whoever this asshole is tank my business. And if you want to help support our child, that’s great, but I won’t be dependent on you.”
Their child.
The word stole his breath. With everything that had happened, he hadn’t had time to really think about the fact that Maggie was pregnant.
With a baby.
Their baby.
He blew out a breath. “I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not.”
She leaned across the island. “Ace, I need to work.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“You were ready for a fight, gatinha ?”
“I was. A big one.”
“I’ll talk to Vander and we’ll set up a bodyguard schedule. If I can’t be with you, I’ll make sure someone else is.”
She frowned. “I know how much Vander charges, and you guys are busy.”
“Fuck the cost. I don’t care, and neither does Vander. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “Fine.”
“Good.” He rose and took the plates to the sink. “Now, you still hungry?”
She cocked her head. “Have you got anything sweet?”
Ah, he’d forgotten his gatinha had a sweet tooth. “I might have some chocolate.”
Her eyes sparked. “Gimme.”
Shaking his head and grinning, he got the block of chocolate. She tore into it and moaned.
Shit . He had it bad when watching a woman eat chocolate turned him on.
“Up for a game of Skydrift Infinity?”
She froze with a square of chocolate halfway to her lips. It was her favorite flying game. “You have a fancy screen and gaming system somewhere?”
“Yep.”
A smile curled her lips. “Then bring it on, Oliveira. Be prepared to get outflown.”