Page 2 of Sweet
“Latin is a kick-ass language, and the Romans did shit in Europe that’s still relevant today.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Study.”
Daisy watched the short interplay between the two—so similar to her conversations with her little brother Kiko—and realized that Spider treated Emmie like a little sister. He had a nickname for her and reminded her about her homework.
Which was completely unfair because it only made him hotter.
“Okay.” Daisy backed toward the door. “I’m going to just head back to the café.” She offered a small wave. “See you.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at Emmie. “For the rent. I’ll tell Betsy you dropped it off.”
It was the longest thing he’d said to her since she’d first noticed him eight months before. “Thanks for coming to Café— Uh, I mean…”Oh God, kill me now.
The corner of Spider’s mouth turned up; he knew he made her nervous.
“Anyway, thanks!” Her voice squeaked. “For telling Betsy.” She waved again. “Bye, Emmie. Bye…” Had they been introduced? He’d never told her his name; she’d just asked around. “Have a good morning.” It was afternoon. “Good afternoon. Have a good…” She spun around and headed for escape. “Bye.”
Emmie yelled behind her. “Come back when you want a book!”
Daisy felt his eyes on her back as she walked to the door—her face had to be on literal fire—but as soon as she pushed the handle and the fresh air hit her face, she realized she’d exited in the wrong place. She’d come in through the door on 7th Avenue, but the café was on Main Street and that’s the direction she was supposed to go because she needed to head to work.
There is no going back.
Forget turning around—she was just going to walk all the way around the block the other way because there was no way on God’s green earth she was going to walk past Metlin Books on the corner again.
Nope.
In fact, eight months of careful planning, preparation, and outfits that showed exactly the right amount of cleavage had just flown out the door. She was probably going to need to move. Maybe her parents had the right idea after all. Going to a university six hours away from home was an excellent idea, and it would save her from ever seeing Spider again.
Ever.
Again.
Daisy pushed openthe garden gate at her parent’s house on Church Street and was immediately assaulted by the cacophony of cousins.
“Daisy!”
“Hey, Didi.”
“Rudy, pass the friggin’ baaaaall. Come ooooon.”
One of her youngest cousins scampered up to poke at the distinctive pink box she was carrying. “You brought pie!”
Daisy looked down at Amelia and cocked her hip, balancing the pie while she took off her sunglasses. “Want to guess what kind?”
“Ummm.” The ten-year-old girl put her nose to the box and inhaled loudly.
“Amelia!” Daisy burst out laughing.
“Lemon!” The little girl ran off without a backward glance, bold as a blue jay and just as loud.
I used to be that way.
She liked to think she still was on the inside, but at nineteen, Daisy couldn’t escape the fact that she was one of the oldest of her cousins, her great-aunt’s favorite, and the designated “success in the making” for her family. The pressure was starting to get to her.
Daisy waved at various cousins, aunts, and uncles as she headed toward the detached garage next to the kitchen. It was an old house built in the 1920s that her Mexican grandparents had bought as a wreck, then fixed up over the years as they built a life in Central California.
When Maya had passed away in her fifties, her children might have been grown, but they still needed a mother. Which was why, with not a second thought, Daisy’s great-aunt, Tia Imelda, had moved from Mexico to help Daisy’s parents with the house and the bakery.
Now the built-in woodwork shone with love and lemon oil, and the house that Maya and Enrique Rivera had built contained their two children, a son- and daughter-in-law, six grandchildren, and half of Daisy’s mother’s family who had all grown up in the house next door.
