The Right Words (23 page)

“Let’s start with
how
.
Cómo
. Go on… repeat after me.
Cómo
.”

“Homo.”

“Ha-ha. Try again.”

“Really Michael? This isn’t fun. I’m not—”

“Learning is fun. You’ll see. Repeat…
cómo
.”

“Homo.”

Michael grabbed the back of my neck and held me in a headlock so he could rub his knuckles over my scalp. I yelped and shoved him away. He laughed at my pissed-off expression and reached for me again, this time squeezing my body close to his. He kissed my forehead soundly before releasing me.

“Ow? That hurt!” I rubbed the top of my head dramatically.

Michael chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a noogie.”

“I never did. And I didn’t like it.”

“Teacher’s prerogative, I’m afraid. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have no choice but to discipline you. Now did you just ask…
what
?
What
is
qué
. Repeat after me…
qué
.”

“Gay.”

“Hmm. You’re an obstinate one. Let’s try body parts.”

“Mich—”

“Shh. No whining. Okay.
Nose
.
Nariz
. Go on. Say it.”

I grumbled again but repeated him this time. “Nariz.”

“
¡Muy bien!
Eyes,
ojos
.”

“
Ojos
. Now let’s—”

“Tienes ojos bonitos.”

“What does that mean?”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

I gulped and let my eyes dart sideways to find Michael much closer than I thought. I swallowed hard and bit at my bottom lip.

“You do. They’re blue with green and even a little gold. Pretty. Like you.”

“Um, thanks.” I smiled slightly and gave him my best Americanized “
gracias
.”

Michael threw his head back and laughed out loud, a musical, unfettered sound that all at once made me feel happy and content. I kept my eyes ahead, watching the seagulls hunt for food on the sand while he pointed out everything in a childlike way, giving me the English and Spanish names. We made a game of sorts with him supplying me the Spanish word while I purposely misunderstood and gave him another version. He laughed at my idiocy, occasionally pulling me close to tickle me or ruffle my hair.

It didn’t escape my notice I was moving into dangerous territory. If all it took to make my pulse jump was a sweet compliment delivered in another language by a beautiful man, I was screwed.

T
HE
LATE
-
AUTUMN
weather at the beach was a little finicky. The mornings were sometimes cool with a heavy marine layer keeping the sun at bay until the afternoon. Those were the days Brandon would laughingly tell me to enjoy the cooler weather because it was 80 degrees in LA. I hadn’t been spending my Saturdays helping at his store since mid-November. With the holidays approaching, he needed more assistance than my measly eight hours on a weekend. He usually hired part-time holiday help, so the fact I was staying in Orange County didn’t bother him. He knew it wasn’t simply a desire to have the remodel done by the beginning of the year that kept me at Michael’s. When I saw him at Thanksgiving at my mother’s house, he asked pointed questions about the “soccer boy,” and I felt his shrewd gaze study me when Mara gushed at how wonderful I looked and how happy I seemed. Brandon knew my arrangement was temporary, but I didn’t want my mother planning a wedding because she thought I’d finally met the right guy, so I was grateful he didn’t launch into any potentially uncomfortable discussions regarding my love life. I
was
happy and for as long as this lasted, I was determined to enjoy it.

There was a palpable change in the air the moment Michael was cleared to jog in mid-December. A new vibrant energy surrounded him. He didn’t walk anymore. He ran. Everywhere. When we walked on the beach, he would find a way to trick me into quickening the pace until I too was in on his quest to push himself to the next level. At first it was a slow and methodical gait so even I could keep up. Eventually there was no mistaking this man was a powerful athlete in training.

I found myself watching him surreptitiously while I dealt with the various contractors. The job was nearing completion, and while I was thrilled with the results, I felt a pang at knowing this chapter would soon be over. Michael was getting better, the house was beautiful, and remarkably Jamie hadn’t followed through on his threats. I didn’t ask if he and Tonio had made any arrangements on the side with the extortionist. I didn’t want to know.

My hands were buried deep in the pockets of my jacket as I listened to the painter give me a never-ending account of the extent of wood rot along the eaves. I was really hoping he wasn’t going to want to take a trip around the perimeter of the house when a car drove up the quiet cul-de-sac and stopped at the bottom of the path leading to the driveway. The engine ran for a moment before the passenger door opened and Tonio stepped out.

Oh great.

Michael came through the breezeway just then, briefly setting his hand on my shoulder and saying a quick hello to the painter before he headed down the drive to greet his guest. I watched Tonio smile affectionately at him and listened to the gentle cadence of their voices while still trying to keep up with the guy next to me rambling on about cobwebs, power washing, and rotted boards.

“Uh yeah. Include it in your pricing and I’ll run it by Mr. Martinez, okay? I need to grab this call.” I pulled out my cell phone, indicating I had someone important on the line, but it was pure curiosity that had me following Michael. What was Tonio doing here? I wondered if Jamie had sent a letter or photo recently. Or maybe there was news about Michael’s contract. I hadn’t seen Tonio since our meeting at his office a couple months ago. Something had to be going on for him to make the trip all the way to Corona del Mar.

Michael smiled cheerfully as I came closer and brushed his fingers against mine as though he were reaching out to hold my hand but thought better of it at the last second.

“We’re going to the park to kick the ball around. I need you to be my wingman. Will you come?”

Tonio muttered something in Spanish, which I would have bet was highly offensive, but Michael ignored him. I wasn’t sure why he wanted me to tag along with them, but my inquisitive nature made it hard to turn down the invitation, even though I had no intention of playing with balls not attached to a man.

“I don’t know how to play wingman. I don’t really get soccer or any kind of ‘kicking the ball around’ stuff. Sor—” I gave him a sly grin I knew he’d be able to translate.

Michael’s face lit up with humor. His expressive dark eyes twinkled merrily, and the look of adoration in them made me a little weak at the knees.

“A wingman isn’t a soccer position, Luke—”

“Some people call the wing midfielders wingmen, Miguel.” Tonio moved toward us, casting a wary glance at me. He didn’t seem outwardly hostile toward me now. He seemed curious. As though he too wondered why on earth Michael wanted me to join them.

“True.” He didn’t spare Tonio a glance. He kept his eyes on me, willing me to just agree. “Wanna come?”

“Okay,” I grumbled.

Michael’s bright grin made my acquiescence worth uttering that one simple word. I couldn’t help returning his smile, easily forgetting for a moment we weren’t the only ones standing outside. Tonio cleared his throat impatiently.

“We’ll get changed and meet you here in a few minutes. Feel free to check out the house if you feel like it,” Michael offered as he pushed me toward the steps leading to the studio apartment.

“
Bien
. You drive. Alex dropped me off. I’ll tell him to meet us at the park.” Tonio took his cell phone from his jacket pocket, punching in numbers as he absently walked toward the main house.

Alex? Whoa. I hadn’t thought I’d get the chance to meet the man in person, and I was suddenly very glad I’d agreed to be a “wingman,” whatever the hell that was. I just hoped this outing wouldn’t be reminiscent of a high school gym class.

O
N
THE
short drive to the neighborhood park, I sat in the backseat of Michael’s BMW listening for any clues to their conversation, which took place entirely in Spanish. I didn’t sense hostility or anger, so I assumed this was a friendly visit. Michael would fill me in later. I hoped.

It was breezy and a bit damp out on the open field at the top of the steep incline. A children’s playground was on the far right side, but the greater portion of the park was the large expanse of dewy green grass surrounded by enormous eucalyptus trees I’d learned had been planted throughout the area to break the powerful winds that occasionally whipped up along the coast. I caught sight of the breathtaking ocean views visible from the field and marveled at the sheer rugged beauty. It was gorgeous here. Peaceful, serene. And for the time being, it was deserted.

“Come on, daydreamer, let’s see what you got.” Michael’s taunting voice broke through my reverie.

I turned to give him a dirty look but stopped short. The man was a god. I already knew he was handsome, but in his natural environment he was beyond description. He wore the same style black workout leggings and matching athletic pullover he donned most days, so it had to be something else. Perhaps it was all about the ball he set at his feet while he stretched his hamstrings and tested the strength of his right knee. Whatever it was, he was in his element, and the joy in his face was readily apparent. I couldn’t help but grin wide in response, though this was not my place. I didn’t belong here. I was a reluctant visitor humoring my lover. Strangely enough, I didn’t mind at all.

“I got nothing. I told you—”

“No wimping out! Anyone can kick a ball. Stretch your legs… that’s it. We’ll kick it around for a bit, and then I’ll let you play goalie.”

He was off and running before I had a chance to reply. I held my stretch for a moment and watched Michael gleefully sprint toward the center of the field, effortlessly driving the soccer ball with him.

“He’s good. Really good.” Tonio moved toward my side, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze locked on Michael, who was obviously running through a series of warm-up exercises. “Go on. Let him show you what he was born to do.”

I offered Tonio a wary half smile before making my way across the wet grass. Michael was doing a funny exercise balancing the ball on one knee and transferring it to the other without letting it hit the ground. I watched him, mesmerized by his skill.

“That’s pretty good.” I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my pullover and winced at the squishy feel of the damp ground. It was muddy in some spots. Yuck.

Michael flashed another megawatt smile my way before letting the ball drop and kicking it toward me. I stared at the black-and-white ball at my feet and looked up at the sound of his joyful chuckle.

“Kick it, honey.”

“Where?”

“To me.”

He was amused, but I didn’t think he was laughing at me, which gave me the courage to tentatively take a swipe at the ball with my right toe. It didn’t go far. Maybe halfway to where Michael stood with his hands on his hips.

“Try again. Harder.”

“Michael, this isn’t really my thing. Why don’t I watch the expert at work?” I took a few steps back, but I didn’t get far before he called me out.

“Nice try. I need your help. Will you help me? At least till Alex gets here.”

“How can I possibly be of any help? I can’t play soccer!” I threw my hands in the air in exasperation.

“Sure you can. Just run with me to the goal. You dribble it, pass it, and I’ll finish it.”

“Finish it? I don’t know what that means and I don’t know how to drib—”

“Cool it. You’ve obviously got whining down to a science. Let’s go.”

I sputtered in protest. Whining? That asshole! I jogged after him and almost fell headfirst over the ball when he kicked it to me again.

“You have to tell me you’re passing it!” I yelled as I ran after the errant ball.

“No. You need to be ready. Come on. Kick it back and keep moving toward the goal.”

He dashed forward at a higher rate of speed, so I pulled back my right leg and kicked the ball as hard as I could in his direction. My momentum combined with the slippery terrain made for an obvious and unpleasant outcome. I fell flat on my butt on the muddy, wet grass.

I was mortified. I expected to hear raucous laughter and teasing, but all was quiet and still. I stared at my right palm covered in muck and bits of grass. Some things never change, I mused as I shifted my weight to stand up. I felt a hand at my elbow and looked up into Michael’s twinkling eyes.

“You okay,
cariño
?” His tone was kind but he was clearly amused.

“I’m fine. I slip—” Michael took my face in his hands and pressed a quick kiss on my cold lips. I blinked up in surprise.

“I saw. Everyone falls sometimes when they try hard. It’s good. Let’s try again… with less firepower, hot stuff.”