She held my eyes and nodded sharply, letting that go, and saying, “You’re very beautiful and he’s staying with you. Which means he doesn’t have to pay for a cabin.”
I fought back a smile. “You think he’s taking advantage of me.”
“He doesn’t touch you.”
Sheesh, she noticed everything.
“He’s not into PDA,” I explained.
“PDA?”
“Public displays of affection.”
Her head cocked to the side as she noted, “This is odd for a man like him.”
“Just saying, Manuel isn’t into that with you either,” I pointed out.
“Of course not, I’m the mother of his children,” she said and I was surprised she did that without gasping in shock that I’d suggest such a thing out loud.
Again, I fought back a smile. “Was he into PDA when you met?”
She leaned in to me, holding my eyes, “John Priest is not Manuel Cabrera.”
She could say that again. Not that Manuel wasn’t attractive and sweet, he just wasn’t a huge, hot guy, badass.
She looked to the door then to me and I didn’t like the expression on her face when I regained her eyes.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Cassidy.”
I didn’t like that either.
“Milagros—” I started but she shook her head.
“He’s very handsome. He’s good with the children. He’s respectful. But there’s just something…” she paused, took a breath, and finished, “off about him.”
At that moment I vowed that my next best friend was going to be blind, deaf, and learning disabled.
I got closer to her. “Honey, he’s a good guy.”
“You seem certain.” This was said in a way that shared she was not.
“I am.”
“How?” she demanded to know.
“Because he fixed my gutters.”
She leaned back. She got that. I’d been going it alone for a long time, but more, she knew there weren’t many men who would fix their new girlfriend’s gutters.
“And he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he’s told me that,” I continued. “Often,” I stressed. “He likes my cooking. When he was away the last time, he didn’t eat or sleep on his way back and it took two days to get to me.”
She pulled in a soft breath at that, but I wasn’t done.
“Because he likes sitting on my porch with me. Because he listens to me when I babble and when I say that, I mean he listens to me. Because, when I talk to him about the cabins, he gives good advice. Because, when I have a situation at Glacier Lily—which he was there during what happened a couple of months ago, honey—he’s present but he doesn’t take over. He lets me run my business and defers to me. Because he knows I can take care of myself but he’s made it clear I need to budge on that because the man he is, he can’t not take care of me. Because he’s beautiful. And because I feel like I conquered the world just when I make him smile, but when I make him laugh, I feel like I could do anything.”
“You’re falling in love,” she said softly.
“Yes,” I replied softly.
She held my eyes then did the sign of the cross, put her fingers to her lips, looked to the ceiling, and started talking to God in Spanish.
Since God was multi-lingual, I let her deliver her message, standing there quiet while she did.
Finally, she stopped talking to God and looked back to me.
“If he travels, how can he be there to take care of you at the cabins?”
Suffice it to say I wasn’t falling in love with Milagros. I’d fallen, head over heels. Her concern that was based in love and affection was one of the many reasons why.
I got closer, took her hand, and pulled it up between us.
“He does what he does and I have to let him do it. I can take care of myself when he’s away and I know you worry, but I can. I have been for six years. But it’s nice to know that he’ll be back to help me with the gutters. I haven’t had that, Milagros, ever. And I really, really like it now that I know just how good it feels.”
“And this is okay with him?” she asked. “Leaving you to take care of yourself?”
“No, that’s why he bought me pepper spray—four cans —a Taser, a stun gun, and a dog.”
Her eyes widened at that. “He bought you the dog?”
She knew about the dog. I just hadn’t told her that Deacon got it for me.
“He paid a fortune for a pure breed, wouldn’t let me pay him back because he says, if it’s something he has to do to feel better about me being safe when he leaves me, I gotta let him do it.”
Her gaze drifted to the door again. “Maybe I’m mistaken about him.”
I hoped she was.
“He makes me happy,” I told her on a hand squeeze and she looked back to me. “He makes me happy in a way I didn’t know you could be happy and we’re just starting. Now all I’m left with is wondering how much better it can get, and trust me, Milagros, that’s what I’m wondering because he’s given me absolutely no indication it’ll go the other way.”
She held my hand fast. “I hope you find out, Cassidy.”
I hoped I did too.
I grinned at her and gently shut it down.
“You don’t need any help in the kitchen, do you?”
Her brows snapped together in affront. “Of course not. Everything was ready thirty minutes before you knocked on the door.”
“Can I set the table?” I requested.
“Done,” she denied.
“Fill water glasses?”
“Silvia and Esteban will do that.”
“Mop your kitchen floor?” I teased.
“What do you think I did in that thirty minutes before you knocked on the door?” she asked.
I stared at her in shock. “Seriously?”
“You don’t have guests with a dirty kitchen floor.”
That was when I smiled at her. “You so rock, I wanna be you when I grow up.”
“I think you’re growing up just fine, being you.”
Yep.
I’d fallen for Milagros.
Head over heels.
“Okay, now you’re gonna make me cry and that’d be all right normally, but I’m wearing mascara.”
Her gaze moved over my face. “I’m uncertain how God feels about painted ladies. I’ll ask Padre at mass on Sunday.”
I fought back a smile. “You think he’s taking advantage of me.”
“He doesn’t touch you.”
Sheesh, she noticed everything.
“He’s not into PDA,” I explained.
“PDA?”
“Public displays of affection.”
Her head cocked to the side as she noted, “This is odd for a man like him.”
“Just saying, Manuel isn’t into that with you either,” I pointed out.
“Of course not, I’m the mother of his children,” she said and I was surprised she did that without gasping in shock that I’d suggest such a thing out loud.
Again, I fought back a smile. “Was he into PDA when you met?”
She leaned in to me, holding my eyes, “John Priest is not Manuel Cabrera.”
She could say that again. Not that Manuel wasn’t attractive and sweet, he just wasn’t a huge, hot guy, badass.
She looked to the door then to me and I didn’t like the expression on her face when I regained her eyes.
“I have a bad feeling about this, Cassidy.”
I didn’t like that either.
“Milagros—” I started but she shook her head.
“He’s very handsome. He’s good with the children. He’s respectful. But there’s just something…” she paused, took a breath, and finished, “off about him.”
At that moment I vowed that my next best friend was going to be blind, deaf, and learning disabled.
I got closer to her. “Honey, he’s a good guy.”
“You seem certain.” This was said in a way that shared she was not.
“I am.”
“How?” she demanded to know.
“Because he fixed my gutters.”
She leaned back. She got that. I’d been going it alone for a long time, but more, she knew there weren’t many men who would fix their new girlfriend’s gutters.
“And he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he’s told me that,” I continued. “Often,” I stressed. “He likes my cooking. When he was away the last time, he didn’t eat or sleep on his way back and it took two days to get to me.”
She pulled in a soft breath at that, but I wasn’t done.
“Because he likes sitting on my porch with me. Because he listens to me when I babble and when I say that, I mean he listens to me. Because, when I talk to him about the cabins, he gives good advice. Because, when I have a situation at Glacier Lily—which he was there during what happened a couple of months ago, honey—he’s present but he doesn’t take over. He lets me run my business and defers to me. Because he knows I can take care of myself but he’s made it clear I need to budge on that because the man he is, he can’t not take care of me. Because he’s beautiful. And because I feel like I conquered the world just when I make him smile, but when I make him laugh, I feel like I could do anything.”
“You’re falling in love,” she said softly.
“Yes,” I replied softly.
She held my eyes then did the sign of the cross, put her fingers to her lips, looked to the ceiling, and started talking to God in Spanish.
Since God was multi-lingual, I let her deliver her message, standing there quiet while she did.
Finally, she stopped talking to God and looked back to me.
“If he travels, how can he be there to take care of you at the cabins?”
Suffice it to say I wasn’t falling in love with Milagros. I’d fallen, head over heels. Her concern that was based in love and affection was one of the many reasons why.
I got closer, took her hand, and pulled it up between us.
“He does what he does and I have to let him do it. I can take care of myself when he’s away and I know you worry, but I can. I have been for six years. But it’s nice to know that he’ll be back to help me with the gutters. I haven’t had that, Milagros, ever. And I really, really like it now that I know just how good it feels.”
“And this is okay with him?” she asked. “Leaving you to take care of yourself?”
“No, that’s why he bought me pepper spray—four cans —a Taser, a stun gun, and a dog.”
Her eyes widened at that. “He bought you the dog?”
She knew about the dog. I just hadn’t told her that Deacon got it for me.
“He paid a fortune for a pure breed, wouldn’t let me pay him back because he says, if it’s something he has to do to feel better about me being safe when he leaves me, I gotta let him do it.”
Her gaze drifted to the door again. “Maybe I’m mistaken about him.”
I hoped she was.
“He makes me happy,” I told her on a hand squeeze and she looked back to me. “He makes me happy in a way I didn’t know you could be happy and we’re just starting. Now all I’m left with is wondering how much better it can get, and trust me, Milagros, that’s what I’m wondering because he’s given me absolutely no indication it’ll go the other way.”
She held my hand fast. “I hope you find out, Cassidy.”
I hoped I did too.
I grinned at her and gently shut it down.
“You don’t need any help in the kitchen, do you?”
Her brows snapped together in affront. “Of course not. Everything was ready thirty minutes before you knocked on the door.”
“Can I set the table?” I requested.
“Done,” she denied.
“Fill water glasses?”
“Silvia and Esteban will do that.”
“Mop your kitchen floor?” I teased.
“What do you think I did in that thirty minutes before you knocked on the door?” she asked.
I stared at her in shock. “Seriously?”
“You don’t have guests with a dirty kitchen floor.”
That was when I smiled at her. “You so rock, I wanna be you when I grow up.”
“I think you’re growing up just fine, being you.”
Yep.
I’d fallen for Milagros.
Head over heels.
“Okay, now you’re gonna make me cry and that’d be all right normally, but I’m wearing mascara.”
Her gaze moved over my face. “I’m uncertain how God feels about painted ladies. I’ll ask Padre at mass on Sunday.”
