Summer Nights Page 7

  “When we get home, I’m turning my air conditioner down to sixty. My fat is going to be melted Jell-O by the time we touch ground in Atlanta.”

  I scrunched my nose at the visual. “Okay. You can stop there. I get it. Trust me. I feel like a fat, sweaty sock walking around here too. No need to explain.”

  “We are never traveling South again during the summer.” I heard commotion in the background. “Now what the hell do you think that inky-dinky little fan is gonna do for me? Summer, help a sister out. This fool is trying to cool me off with an itty-bitty desk fan. It would take at least ten of them to make a dent in my crankiness right about now.”

  “Stop working yourself up over it. You’re only raising your temperature and driving me insane,” Ramon pleaded.

  “You? You’re a twig walking around on chicken legs that would cool off with a paper fan in two seconds. Me? I’m a big beautiful woman who has girth and needs more than a fan the size of an apple to cool off her excess sexiness.”

  “You are very sexy. You are my sexy chocolate-“ Ramon’s voice was getting closer, as if he was leaning into Stella. His tone was seductive and had a heady rasp that I knew had Stella squirming. But I didn’t want to hear anymore.

  “Okay! I’m going to go now, Stella. You and Ramon have fun cooling each other down. I’ll see you later.”

  She giggled flirtatiously. Ramon had clearly distracted her from his lack of an efficient cooling system in his house. “See you later, Summer.” I heard a moan right as she hung up her phone.

  “Um, I think things are going good with them.” I felt the heat painting my cheeks. They were definitely a good match; I just hoped Stella kept an open mind.

  “I’m glad things are going good with us,” Cruz said. I swallowed hard, his eyes raking over me. My womb warmed under the heat of his gaze, my heartbeat picking up pace. I stared back at him, unable to gather my wits to respond.

  When he faced the road, I exhaled softly, trying to reign in my reaction to him and his words. I tucked my phone inside my purse right as Cruz pulled along the curb in front of a bakery in Old San Juan.

  “This is my favorite place in all of San Juan,” he stated.

  I studied the structure. A large glass window with ‘Panaderia Familiar’ painted across the top greeted us. Gingham curtains were hung but pulled to one side to frame the window and allow potential customers a clear view of the pastry case. Blue and white seemed to be the color scheme throughout the quaint space from the rustic floor tiles to the white walls with a blue leaflet border. Worn tables with matching wooden chairs tucked beneath them were dotted amongst the small foyer of the shop. Customers sat, sipping coffee and enjoying breakfast pastries.

  “What makes this place so special?” I asked, still taking in the details.

  “My tia owns it.”

  My nerves revved up. He was taking me to meet his family? I looked down at my clothes, kicking myself for choosing this outfit.

  He leaned in, kissing my cheek. “Don’t worry, you look great.” He got out of the car and came around to open my door.

  The moment my feet hit the ground, I tugged down my shorts and adjusted my tee. My stomach did somersaults as he led me inside.

  “Look what the cat dragged in.” A chunky, teenage girl came around from behind the counter.

  Cruz greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. “Hey, Carmen. Tia here?”

  “Of course. The woman never leaves.” Carmen looked me up and down before trailing her eyes back to Cruz. “Who’s the chica?”

  “Nosy little runt, aren’t ya?” He rumpled up her hair.

  “Would you stop doing that already? I’m sixteen, not nine.” She swatted at his hand.

  He laughed. “Serves you right, for ratting me out.”

  “That was two months ago. Geesh. Grow up, primo.” She attempted to fix her hair, but Cruz had done a number on it. She let him know, too, with a dark glare. Turning around, she stomped off towards the back mumbling the whole way in Spanish.

  “Carmen’s my cousin,” he explained.

  I nodded, looking around the room. A few patrons had been watching the commotion, but for the most part, people were caught up in their own conversations. The male behind the counter hadn’t missed a beat since Carmen walked away.

  “Hola, mi bebe!” A robust woman walked towards us, her arms spread wide to greet Cruz. Her apron was covered in flour; her peppered hair was no longer tied back into a tight bun as tiny tendrils flew freely. She grabbed Cruz, forcing him to let go of my hand and hugged him tightly. Holding his face, she kissed his cheeks enthusiastically. “Como estas, mi bebe?”

  “Bien, bien.” He redirected her attention to me. “Tia, this is Summer. Summer, this is my Aunt Annita.”

  I smiled shyly. “Hi,” I greeted, waving my hand.

  She cocked her head, a knowing smiling curling her lips. “Hola, Summer. Egh… My nephew is good to you, no?”

  “Tia-“

  “Yes, he is good to me,” I replied.

  “Que bueno.” She patted Cruz’s cheek. The woman practically glowed around him. It was obvious she adored him more like a son than a nephew. “Egh…” She looked at me, offering an apologetic expression before speaking in Spanish.

  Cruz glanced in my direction, a sparkle in his eyes, before responding to his aunt in the same language. They went back and forth for a minute before the woman suddenly broke off chuckling as she gaily slapped her thigh.

  I leaned into Cruz. “What’s so funny?” I whispered.

  “Ay, your tio will die of funny.” Her laughter kicked up a notch before she waved us over to the counter. She turned to me, grabbing my hand. “Anything you want, es free. Mi casa es su casa.” Her free hand flew up in the air joyously. She was nearly bouncing in place.

  “Um, thank you. Gracias.” Her smile was infectious, but I still felt like I was missing something.

  She squeezed my hand, her face beaming with delight as her eyes passed between Cruz and me. Abruptly she pulled me into a tight hug. My arms fumbled for a moment before I finally caught up and reciprocated her embrace. She pulled back, reaching out and pinching Cruz’s cheek. “Ay que bueno, papi. La nena es perfecto. Bonita, intelligente…” She trailed off, laughing intermittently as she made her way towards the back of the café again.

  I turned to find Cruz scrubbing his face, lines creasing his forehead. I panicked for a moment before he started snickering, shaking his head in dismay. “Um, what did I miss?”

  CRUZ

  The concern in my tia’s voice was touching. “She’s giving me a hard time because I’ve never brought a girl to meet the family before.” She was perceptive and picked up on the fact that I was falling in love with Summer. She said she couldn’t wait to tell my tio and that he would die of laughter. His ‘one day it’ll happen to you’ comment was coming back to bite me in the ass. It was worth it though; Summer was worth all the torment in the world.

  And that was the scariest thing of all. No woman had come close to blind-siding me the way she had. I was struggling to cope with the emotions of it all. It was happening so fast. I felt like I was in a high-speed car chase with no brakes.

  “Oh.” Summer sucked her lower lip between her teeth.

  I sensed her unease and quickly derailed her. “What do you want to eat? Pick anything you’d like.” Her eyes glazed over at the menu selection.

  Five minutes later we were sipping coffee at a table near the front window.

  “Were you born in Atlanta?” I watched her carefully over the rim of my cup. She’d been quiet since we ordered, her eyes scanning everywhere but me.

  “Born and raised,” she stated. “Have you always lived here?”

  “I was born on the island but moved to New York to live with my dad after my parents separated; I was twelve. I finished high school, lasted one year in college and then came back here.”

  She pensively gazed down at her coffee. After a moment, she looked up again, a new resolve lighting her face. “
Were your parents able to work things out?”

  “We’re Catholic. Divorce is not an option to us. So when we marry, we’re making the biggest commitment possible with no escape clause.”

  She frowned, her eyes fixating off in the distance. “I’m sorry,” she said, lightly shaking her head. “I just don’t understand why someone would choose to remain married to someone they’re unhappy with.” Her voice was thick; the weight of her tone indicating that this was a personal issue as well.

  “My father moved back about two years ago. They’re trying to make things work.” I wanted to give her hope. I wanted to make her smile and forget the worries of others’ relationships. “Tell me, what’s life like for you in Atlanta?” I was eager to know everything about her.

  Finally, she faced me, a world of emotions trapped in her gaze. It seemed like she wanted to tell me everything, but something stopped her. “It’s a different environment, but I do the same things basically.”

  Why was she backing away now? “What do you do for work?”

  “I’m a manager in a Customer Service Call Center.” She stared down at the table, her coffee hovering near her lips; her brows pulled together. Suddenly her head popped up. “I never asked. What do you do?”

  This was the question I’d been dreading. Carmen dropping off our sandwiches saved me from having to answer... for now.

  “I hope you like it.”

  Her smile was polite; it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure I will.”

  This wasn’t good.

  SUMMER

  We sat in silence through our meal. I felt like I should say something, but I couldn’t get past my inner turmoil. Watching him interact with his family, witnessing the close, playfulness he shared with his cousin and the loving relationship he had with his aunt, forced my issues to the forefront of my mind. I knew wanting what I didn’t have did me no good, and I was genuinely happy for Cruz because he had such a great connection with his family. I just wished mine was more like that.

  My mother was an only child who never wanted children; my father a drunk who had borrowed more money from his relatives than they were willing to lend. In the end, they disowned my father and inadvertently me too. While my childhood wasn’t horrible, I also didn’t have any bubbly family memories. Over the years, as my father’s drinking got worse, the distance between me and my mother grew. She went out more, not wanting to be around my father when he was ‘that way,’ as she called it, essentially leaving me to clean up his mess.

  The moment I graduated high school, I applied for a job at the Call Center. I took my first paycheck and moved out. A month later I met Stella, and we’d been best friends ever since.

  “Summer.” I jumped at the feel of his hand on mine. I shook my head, returning to the present. Cruz’s head was turned slightly, a frown pulling his face down. “Que paso, mi amor? Are you okay?”

  I closed my eyes for a second. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” I looked down at my half-eaten ham, egg and cheese sandwich. I could tell the pressed Cuban bread was freshly baked from scratch. My coffee mirrored my food, sitting at the halfway mark. Guilt was nagging me. His aunt had been so nice, and then I turned around and wasted what she gave me. I picked up the sandwich and took another bite. Even if I’d been eating chocolate cake, it wouldn’t have tasted good. My emotions were making everything taste sour. I was too wrapped up in something that I couldn’t change, allowing it to mess up the one good thing I did have at the moment. I needed to stop the self-defeating behavior.

  Cruz gently squeezed my hand lying in his, pulling my attention back to him. His plate was empty, as was his coffee cup. He’d left me with my thoughts. From the moment I met him, he was able to read me, to know what I needed.

  “I’m sorry.” My eyes watered unexpectedly.

  “You know you can tell me anything.” His voice was mellow and soothing as he spoke.

  Looking into his eyes, I could tell he was speaking the truth; that I really could tell him anything. I took a deep breath. “It’s hard watching people have such a great relationship with their family. I’m happy for them, but it hurts me. My whole life I’ve wanted the family that was always on the greeting cards or the stock photos in picture frames.” I shrugged, feeling foolish in my confession. “I know it’s petty, and I’ve accepted that I’ll never have that. It doesn’t mean I don’t want it, or that it doesn’t hurt me still to see others enjoying it.”

  He scoot his chair around the table to be stationed beside me. He pulled me into him, caressing my back. “It’s not petty; it’s genuine. Family is supposed be the ones you can count on for anything. I couldn’t imagine not having mine.” He gently kissed my head, just above my stitches. “I’ll always be here for you though.”

  I gazed into his eyes. The truth behind his words was written all over his face. It didn’t matter that we’d known each other for only a few days. He was declaring that he was planning to be in my life in some capacity for the long haul. My soul was radiating, my heart melting at his declaration. He couldn’t change my family, but he was willing to offer me what they wouldn’t: the loving support needed to manage through life.

  He traced my cheek with his finger. “You ready to go?”

  I looked down at my plate. “I feel bad throwing it out.”

  “Ay, mi amor. You have nothing to worry about.” He grabbed the sandwich, polishing it off in two bites. I knew my eyes were wide as I watched him. He downed the rest of my coffee, grimacing at the end. “Why can’t you Americans leave the coffee alone? It doesn’t need the fluff.”

  I chuckled. “Because we like flavor, not just bitterness.”

  “That’s debatable.” He stood, pulling out my chair and helping me up. “Adios, prima.” He waved to Carmen. She flicked her wrist in our direction, pretending to be busy. It was obvious she looked up to Cruz, but given her age, I suppose she didn’t want to seem vulnerable.

  Chapter 10

  The drive to Cruz’s condo was quiet, peaceful. Opening up to him had helped me release a bit of my pent-up frustration.

  He held his front door open for me, allowing me to walk in first. It was strange entering a place I’d been before, yet hadn’t actually seen.

  Avocado colored tile floors flowed into white walls throughout the space. Two black leather sofas took up the majority of the square footage in the living room. A large portrait, circa 1950’s, of Old San Juan, hung behind the larger of the couches, acting as an anchor for the area. A sleek wooden coffee table with a stack of coasters rested in front of the same larger sofa. The only other items in the room were an overhead fan, same style that was in the bedroom but with a light, and an oversized, flat-screen TV that occupied the wall across from the framed photo.

  Beyond the living room was an eat-in kitchen. Rather than try to squeeze a small dinette into the tiny alcove, Cruz nestled four bar stools, two on each side, against the counter overhang. As I walked further into the space, I got a full view of the narrow, galley-style kitchen. It wasn’t the most up-to-date design, but it had a step up bar on the end caps and all the amenities anyone could need.

  Having seen the bedroom already, I knew that Cruz was a minimalist. He had the bare necessities and nothing more. It revealed a lot about his character. Just because he had money didn’t mean he needed to flaunt it.

  I squealed as he came up behind me unnoticed. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his nose nuzzling my neck. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How minimal your apartment is.”

  “What does your place look like?”

  “Clean lines, but with a bit of a country twist. I love restoring furniture. I have two large bookshelves that I painted white and then buffed and sanded to look aged again in my living room on either side of my sofa. I have books on them, but I also have strategically placed statues and photos. I like furniture, and homes, that have character. I like my apartment to be organized but still look comfortable and lived in.”

  He spun me around in hi
s arms. “It sounds nice.”

  “I like it.” I shrugged.

  “That’s all that matters.” Cruz kissed my forehead before stepping back to remove his shirt.

  His muscles flexed, their outlines glowing in the morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. I licked my lips, fighting to stay in place and not pounce on him. He looked the part of a sexy-as-sin bad boy, my heart raced as I recalled our rough tangle last night. My pussy warmed as he puckered his soft, full lips; lips that had kissed my nipples and caressed my sex. My breathing became shallow as my body heated quickly at the sight of him. He watched me, a knowing smirk lifting his lips.

  He crooked his finger, beckoning me to him. I dropped my purse onto the floor, creating a loud thud, and walked straight into his arms. Rather than claim my lips right away, he wrapped his hands around my hips and tugged me into his erection. I allowed my hands to greedily admire his luscious abs and his firm chest. He was gorgeous. And until tomorrow afternoon, when my flight left, he was mine.

  He gently removed my glasses and placed them on the counter. Then his eyes resumed their adoring assessment, which caused a sizzling desire to burn within me.

  My mouth watered and my breasts swelled as I rocked into him. I kissed a path down his center, slipping away from his grip. Landing on my knees, I unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts. I pulled them down, their weight carried them to the floor effortlessly. I hooked my fingers around the waistband of his boxers, teasing his lower stomach. His muscles rippled as his breathing sharpened.

  I drew my tongue, sliding it across his boxer line. He gripped a nearby barstool back, his knuckles white as he leaned into me. Knowing this was torture for him, I allowed his boxers to pool around his ankles with his cargos. His thick cock stood before me, dark curls perfectly framing it.

  I wrapped my hands around his thighs, reaching up to squeeze his tight ass. At the same time I licked his tip. He hissed. The taste of him energized me. My nipples pebbled, my pussy moistened; a longing settled deep in my lower stomach.