Page 64 of A Dish Best Served Hot

Saint shook his head and chuckled to himself as he watched them disappear down the hall. “I really thought he’d grow out of being an annoying punk.”

“Some people just are how they are.” She tried to decide if she should broach the topic, but then she went for it. She was Lola León after all. “What do you think we should tell Rosie about what she saw?” She was asking Saint to define what was going on between them as much for herself as for Rosie.

“I think I’ll just wait to see if she asks me about it. If she does, I’ll tell her that we really like each other and leave it at that.”

Lola felt a pang of disappointment although she was hard-pressed to figure out why. His plan made sense and it was the truth. They did really like each other. They always had. That was sort of the problem. How could she keep things in perspective, when all she could think about was how much they liked each other? “I should get back in there. Who knows what our grandfathers have done in our absence.”

Saint stared at her, his dark brown eyes taking in everything about her and most likely reading her mind too. “Do you regret it?”

“Regret what? Kissing you?”

He nodded.

“No. Absolutely not. Saint, if there is one thing about this whole situation that I know, it’s that I want you. You do it for me. Always have.”

He took a step closer to her and then seemed to stop himself. His eyes burned as he held her gaze. “I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen. Regardless of time or distance. I wanted you even when you were on the other side of the country and I was on the other side of the world. That’s my truth.”

“I used to lie in bed and think of you. I’d touch myself at the memories.”

He took another step toward her. “Don’t tell me that. Not here. Not now. Not when I can’t do anything about it. I’m hanging on by a thread, Canela.”

Lava rushed through her veins. “I am too.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “But you’re right. Now is not the time or place.”

“Go,” he told her. “Go help viejitos pick out silly outfits to sing songs in. Go before I don’t let you.”

Lola chanced one more glance into Saint’s eyes, now overflowing with the same fire Papo Vega had referenced earlier, then booked it out of there as fast as she could.

15

When Abuelo Papo had guilt-tripped him into volunteering at Casa del Sol’s monthly karaoke night, Saint couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d hate being more (besides back in battle). But that was before he’d seen Lola walk in wearing a badass leather jacket with a pretty flower dress that had buttons all down the front, a pair of gold hoops, and brightly painted lips. From that moment all he’d thought about was unbuttoning that dress and smearing that lipstick. After doing one of those things in the hall, he found it even more difficult to concentrate.

She’d told him that she wanted him. Saint wanted to strut like a peacock. He wanted to announce that fact on the microphone. Then he wanted to drag her off to somewhere private and show her how much that—no, how much she—meant to him.

Abuelo walked up to stand next to him. “Esa cara de bobo que tienes me dice que mi canción funcionó.” He nudged Saint with his elbow and waggled his eyebrows. “Se besaron mucho, ¿verdad?”

Saint couldn’t take offense because he was sure he was sporting a stupid face. However, he would not be telling his grandpa about the hot kiss they shared nor would he mention getting caught by Leo and Rosie. The last thing Abuelo Papo needed was more encouragement. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Abuelo waved a hand. “Leo’s fine as the MC. He has Rosie helping him now.”

“I think you’re confused. He was helping you, not the other way around.”

“But he loves being the center of attention.”

“Again. I think you’re confusing the two of you.” Although, Abuelo and Leo were similar in ways that were scary to contemplate. Dear lord, Leo would probably be worse than Abuelo when he was old. Saint almost crossed himself to ward off the possibility.

“Fine, I’ll go relieve him from his duty, but only because you begged me to.”

Saint didn’t respond to that nonsense. He just kept filling the little paper bags in front of him with popcorn.

Moments later Leo was at his side. “Can any of these old people sing something recorded after 1970 for the love of god? This is boring as hell.”

“How did he talk you into this?”

Leo scoffed. “How do you think? Guilt.” He grabbed a bag of popcorn and tossed some in his mouth. “He reminded me that I had to leave early the last time I visited.”

Leo was many things, but he would never brush off Abuelo. “What happened?”

“I was working. I’d just stopped in quickly while we were on our way back to the station.” He tossed a kernel in the air and then caught it in his mouth. “Then we got a call. There was this huge incident at the old theater on Augusta.”

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