Page 9 of A Dish Best Served Hot

“Mr. Vega had an altercation with another one of our residents and decided to get revenge by poisoning him. The other resident has fragile health and his family member is demanding your grandfather be kicked out.”

Fuck.

3

Lola looked Benny over again. He was sitting next to her at the conference table with one of his hands gripping the IV pole next to him. He was on his second bag of fluids. She couldn’t be sure if it was her imagination, but he looked even more skinny and wrinkly than he had when she’d visited him yesterday. Her poor abuelo looked like a damn raisin. Her anger sparked all over again, but it was quickly tempered by concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lola asked Benny for the fiftieth time since she’d arrived.

He waved her off. “I’m fine. I’m just mad.”

“That makes two of us.”

The door to the small conference room opened and the director of the facility entered followed by an old man, presumably Papo Vega, and then... “Oh fuck!”

Lola popped up out of her chair with so much force that it slid back a foot before it tipped over.

The last person to enter the room froze in the doorway. He stared at her as if he’d just seen a ghost. “Lola?”

Ugh. That voice. From the moment she first heard it, it had done things to her. That voice saying her name had caused her to do things. Dumb things. Unfortunately for her that pattern seemed to continue, because before she could stop herself she blurted out, “There are approximately a hundred of you Vegas strutting around Humboldt Park. Why did it have to be you?”

“You know him?” Benny asked in Spanish at the same time Papo said, “I see your granddaughter is as rude as you are.”

“Abuelo,” his voice said.

This time Lola was able to note the differences. It was deeper. Way deeper. And rough, as if he were unused to using it. It prickled over her skin, causing bumps to rise along her arms. She was grateful she was wearing long sleeves, so no one could witness her shame.

His voice should not still affect her like this. Not after seventeen years. She was supposed to have left all that stupidity behind the same way she’d left Saint Vega behind.

That’s right. She had left him behind. She was the one in control. Not him.

Lola took a deep breath. She channeled her yoga instructor back in San Diego and she centered herself. Reclaimed her energy. “We went to high school together,” she told Benny. To Papo Vega she said, “You have no idea just how rude I can be when someone hurts my family.”

“I need to talk to you,” Saint said to her. “Privately.”

Oh hell no. There was no way that was going to happen. If his voice made her do stupid things, being alone with him was ten times worse. “There is no need to speak privately. Your YouTube prankster here poisoned my diabetic abuelo and almost caused him to be hospitalized. That’s all there is to talk about.”

“It wasn’t poison,” Papo Vega grumbled. “It was just prune juice.”

“Benny said that you told him it was Ex-Lax,” Lola shot back.

“Well, then he’s a foolanda liar, because all I said was that he was full of shit and I could prove it.”

Maria let loose something that could only be described as a groan of dismay and covered her face with both hands.

“Lola.” Saint’s voice came again, tinged with some sort of emotion she couldn’t place. “Talk to me privately.”

She tried to ignore him, but he dominated the space in the room. He’d definitely grown a few inches since high school and filled out. He wore a faded black T-shirt under a sawdust-covered flannel, an equally covered pair of dark jeans, and well-worn work boots. Apparently he was a construction worker now. His rich brown hair was cut in a close fade on the sides and only long enough on the top to get a wavy impression of what she knew were gorgeous curls. He was so close that she could smell the sawdust and sweat on him. Something that shouldn’t have made her mouth water, but did.

He leaned in close and said the one word that would break her resolve. “Please.”

Lola growled in frustration. “Fine. We’ll talk privately for two minutes, then I’m coming back here to handle this.” With that she pushed past him and strode out into the hallway. She was about to make her way out the front door when a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction.

Saint opened a door to his left and pulled her in behind him. It was some sort of storage closet. Surrounding her were file boxes, clear totes of office supplies, and even some cleaning products. The door shut and Lola swung to face Saint in the dark.

He hit a light switch somewhere then stood in front of the door staring at her. His gaze traveled from her head to her toes.

Lola knew exactly what he was seeing. An older version of her old self. She still had freckles on her face, thick dark hair with just a hint of a wave, and enough pounds on her five-six frame to have her old doctor constantly bitching about her size and throwing around bullshit terms likeBMIandobese.

Well, fuck that guy and fuck this noise, because although she may not look it, Lola was very different from her teenage self. She now embraced everything about herself including her face and her body. She was a strong, independent, beautiful, badass bitch and she wasn’t taking shit from anyone.

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