Chapter 39
BLAKE
Lazy Sundays are my new favorite.
I convinced the guys to relax with me. Yes, the world around us may be a complete nightmare, but it’s Sunday. The day of not giving a fuck.
I exerted the most energy when I went down the stairs to lie on the couch.
We’ve watched TV, cuddled, napped, read books—all the things necessary for a carefree day.
Even my outfit matches the occasion.
I stole Santiago’s wool socks, and they keep my feet at the perfect temperature. Levi’s tee almost reaches my knees, and Walker’s sweatpants barely stay on my hips. It feels like I’m wrapped in a large blanket.
Santiago wakes me from a nap on Levi’s chest on the couch. “It’s time to wake up,” he coos gently.
“Why?” I question with a yawn.
Levi stretches, waking up with me.
Santiago grasps my hands and guides me to my feet. “We’re going to dinner.”
I give Santiago a teasing smirk. “Are you asking me on a date, cowboy?”
“If you want to see it that way,” he attempts to hide a knowing smile. “But do dates include parents?”
The P-word chases away the last of the fog from my mind as I stand up straight.
“Parents?” My question comes out higher pitched than intended.
Santiago doesn’t clarify. He either doesn’t notice my apprehension, or he ignores it as he heads up to his bedroom to, I assume, get ready.
My gaze swivels to Levi.
“No, not mine,” he answers my unsaid question as his hands flick outward. “They travel around the country in an RV.”
I turn my head toward Walker, who sits on the other end of the sectional couch.
“Nope. My parents passed away years ago.”
My brows pull together. “But Santiago…” I trail off.
“His mother was killed when Santiago was thirty-five.” Walker stands, grabbing my hand and leading me to the stairs. Levi tracks behind us.
I nod, already aware of the tragedy. “He told me.”
Walker guides me up the stairs. “His father lives in a cabin on the west end.”
Blinking, my mouth opens in shock. “Santi never mentioned him, so I figured his dad wasn’t around.”
“Well, we’re going to dinner at his house.” Walker shrugs as we enter Santiago’s bedroom.
Steam rolls through the cracked bathroom door as Santiago showers for the occasion. Levi and Walker disappear to find more appropriate clothes to wear.
Wear.
Shit.
“Wait!” I shout in alarm after them. “What do I wear?”
Their only answer is to laugh at my distress, causing me to curse them in my head.
Spinning on my heel, I stare blankly at the closet. Santiago moved his clothes aside, making room for the brand-new ones he, Levi, and Walker had purchased for me.
Blindly, I grab the first two items my hands touch. Thankfully, they work. I end up with a pair of rust-colored wide-leg pants and a soft ivory sweater that slips off one shoulder, no matter how many times I tug it back into place.
Casual enough not to feel overdressed.
Cute enough that I don’t look like a bridge troll.
Outfit: check.
I keep my makeup minimal and throw my hair into a messy updo.
As I’m about to head back downstairs, I’m hit with a barrage of anxious thoughts.
Am I supposed to bring dessert? Do I call him Mr. Ramirez? What if I say something stupid? What if I have to pee a ton because I’m anxious, then he thinks I have health issues?
Levi appears in the doorway to the bathroom. “Butterfly.”
Peering at him through the mirror, I’m practically speechless. It’s not fair that he looks that amazing in a simple pair of jeans and a white scoop neck tee under a red flannel.
Not fair at all.
“Yes?” My voice quavers.
“You’re pacing.” Glancing down, I discover that he’s right.
Levi approaches with a calming presence. He soothes his hand over my upper arms in comfort. “Don’t be nervous. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
As if he knows I can’t make my feet budge, he entwines our fingers together and leads me out of the bathroom and back to the first floor.
At the bottom of the staircase, we meet Santiago and Walker. I’m momentarily struck by the sight of their styled hair and lack of cowboy hats. Each man wears the same thing as Levi–something I doubt they did on purpose. Secretly, I’m hoping they don’t notice it either.
“Damn,” Walker mutters under his breath as his eyes land on me, but still loud enough for me to hear him.
Walker’s curse causes Santiago to turn toward me, and his jaw drops. “Esto es el paraíso.” This is paradise.
Their praise and appreciation give me the boost of confidence I need. Straightening my posture, I descend the last few steps, feeling like a million bucks.
“Put your tongues back in your mouths,” I tease as I strut toward the exit.
Walker’s hand finds the handle to the door and opens it for me.
“Thank you, handsome,” I say with a wink as I cross the threshold.
Santiago and Levi do their little bit of debating over whose truck to take. The one thing we all agree on is that we're not piling in Walker’s truck.
After an infamous game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, we end up in Levi’s F250 with Levi driving, Bear nestled between Santiago and Walker in the backseat, and me in the passenger seat.
Tired of the silence, I ask, “What was Santi like as a kid?”
Levi and Walker answer at the same time.
“Loud.”
“Sticky.”
Santiago makes an indignant sound. “Rude.”
“More like accurate,” Walker retorts.
“Sticky?” I roll my lips to hold in a laugh.
Levi answers, keeping his eyes on the dirt road. “He was one of those kids who somehow always had sticky hands. It was like he put his hand in a jar of honey and let it dry.”
Failing miserably, a laugh bursts from me. Santiago pouts in the back seat while Levi and Walker join me.
Levi slows the truck as we pull up to a single-story ranch home sitting back from the road beneath a cluster of towering whitebark pine trees.
It isn’t large or flashy. It’s a modest home wrapped in faded cedar siding with a deep front porch stretching across the entire length.
Rocking chairs flank the front door, and a wooden porch swing on the far right gently creaks in the breeze.
As Levi brings the car to a stop, I turn toward the back. “Anything I need to know before we go inside?”
“Be yourself,” Santiago answers immediately.
“I’m serious.” I lift my brows for emphasis.
“So am I.” His warm smile gives me a sense of comfort.
We exit the vehicle, marching through the snow-covered path and up the porch to the front door. I expect one of them to knock, but they step right on it. Even Bear shows no hesitation.
Striking honey-colored oak floors that stretch through the main living area are softened by woven rugs.
A fire lights a river-rock fireplace anchored to one wall, its mantel crowded with framed family photos instead of decorations.
The deep cognac leather couches appear crisp and clean, the cushions sinking just enough to hint at their years of use.
One wall holds a plethora of family photos–Santiago as a kid covered in mud, a family of three riding horses across a pasture, a teenage Santiago and a middle-aged woman who I assume is his mother.
A pair of muddy work boots rest on a rubber mat just inside the front door, and Navajo-style blankets are draped across the back of each couch.
Levi, Santiago, and Walker each slip off their boots, placing them next to the first pair on the mat like this is their ritual. Awkwardly, I do the same as if I were going to take my shoes off all along.
“Mis hijos.” A man strolls from around the corner, holding out his arms. My sons.
Shifting my weight back and forth, I hide behind my men with Bear at my side.
“Hola, Papí.” Santiago greets and walks straight into the man’s arms.
Santiago’s father looks older than I imagined.
Thick salt-and-pepper hair curls slightly around his ears, and laugh lines fan from the corners of his warm brown eyes.
His skin looks like it’s been bronzed by decades of hard work under the Wyoming sun, and a neatly trimmed beard streaked with silver frames his easy smile.
He’s not particularly tall, but carries himself with a quiet confidence only a man who has done a lifetime of honest work could possess.
His dark sweater stretches across a pair of sturdy shoulders that age hasn’t quite managed to steal, and a frilly pastel pink apron is tied around his waist.
Levi steps up next. “ángel,” he greets. Their hug is no less affectionate.
Walker doesn’t move from his spot and tips his head. “Sir.”
ángel closes the distance and wraps his arms around Walker despite his obvious discomfort. “How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that?”
Walker’s hands ineptly pat ángel on the back. “You’ll always be sir to me.”
ángel pulls back, giving Walker a penalizing look. “I work for a living, son.”
“You’re retired,” Santiago deadpans.
ángel waves off Santiago’s comment and moves Walker aside, coming to me.
“You must be Blake,” he says gleefully and opens his arms.
My face flushes as I step forward, outstretching my hand for a shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr—”
A huge grin stretches his lips as his warmth envelopes me in an embrace. “Call me ángel, hija.”
My entire body freezes.
My daughter.
He called me his daughter.
I return the hug as a spark lights up the dark recesses inside me.
“ángel.” I repeat.
ángel releases me and looks me over. Not in a way that causes discomfort, but rather in a way that feels like he’s measuring.
Bear takes the pause as an invitation to give his own greeting. He jumps up, placing his front paws on ángel’s chest and licks his face.
ángel half flinches, closing one eye as he pets Bear, but ángel doesn’t seem put out by the affection. “I wouldn’t forget you, Bear.”
Bear, satisfied that he was acknowledged, hops down and prances into the living room, finding a comfortable spot to relax in.
ángel wipes his face and turns back to me. “So you’re the woman who has captured the hearts of these three.”
“Oh, dear God.” My mouth becomes dry, making it impossible to swallow.
Walker’s eyes widen. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
Levi and Santiago snicker, covering their mouths with their hands.