Page 9 of Just for the Holidays
Her eyebrows almost came together as she considered his words, clearly trying to figure out where the catch was, but after a moment her arms dropped to her sides and she exhaled, gaze still locked on his. “Fine, two alcapurrias and I’m out of here.”
She stormed out of the room in a cloud of black and cherry red and he stayed rooted in place watching her pert little ass as she made her way to his mother’s kitchen.
“Perla!” The welcoming choir from the kitchen put a smile on Perla’s face despite how out of sorts she was feeling.
“Come give me a hug, niña,” Gael’s grandmother demanded as she turned golden-brown empanadas in a pot of bubbling hot oil.
“Doña Juana,” Perla said as she put an arm around the small woman.
“Call me Abuela, querida, and especially now that my grandson has finally wised up and gotten you back.” The older woman carefully plucked the last of the empanadas out of the oil as she talked and turned off the gas, then turned around to wrap Perla into a fierce hug. The roughened palm patting her cheek with such tender affection had tears prickling her eyes.
“I’m so happy you’re here. Now get those empanadas and put them on the table. Then we can talk about your new look. Gaelito can’t keep his eyes off you,” Juana teased and Perla looked up to find the Hollywood actor in question leaning against the arch that led from the kitchen to the dining room. The house had enough square footage to easily accommodate a dozen people, just in the kitchen, so Perla hadn’t noticed Gael walking in. And hewaslooking at her, very intensely looking at her. He was too damn fine for words, and she really, really wished he’d stop being this damn sexy all the time.
“Here, let me help you,” he said, pushing off the wall. He picked up the plate of empanadas and she followed him into the next room. She imagined all that sinew and muscle she’d gripped and felt against her when they kissed, shifting and flexing as he moved. Her lips were still bruised from the kiss, and Perla couldn’t help sliding her tongue over the spot on her bottom lip where he’d sucked on it. He must’ve noticed the gesture because he froze for a second and a flush of heat spread through her just from that. She had to turn around and occupy herself with the task of arranging the food on a dish to keep from doing something supremely stupid.
Even looking at the man was dangerous.
With every word exchanged, every touch, feelings and yearnings she’d hoped had been buried and dead long ago cropped up like crocuses announcing the end of a long, dark winter. But she could do this; it was only two hours. Veronica would have her Christmas without drama, and Perla would deliver Gael Montez forThe Liberator and His Love. All she had to do was keep her head in the game. If there was something Perla knew how to do it was repress every emotion. To pretend nothing was wrong, even when she could barely hold it together. Her mother had made sure her children could always present a happy face, no matter how miserable they felt. She was a pro at “fake it till you make it” and she would not falter in this. One meal with Gael and his family. Then she’d drive away and call her sister with the good news.
She needed this win. Not because Esmeralda was putting pressure on her, but because she wanted to prove to herself she could see this through.
All she had to do to fulfill her end of the bargain was pretend for a little bit. She didn’t like lying to Veronica—she was sure Gael wasn’t thrilled about it either, but he’d do what he needed to, in order to make his mother happy. In college she’d found it utterly disarming that the rough, brilliant, beautiful boy who seemed to have every girl on campus dying to be on his arm, would leave New Haven every Saturday afternoon and make his way down to Bridgeport so he could see his mother. One of the many things about Gael that had made her fall hard.
“Mami, I’m back!”
Gabi’s voice pierced through Perla’s musings. She should’ve assumed Gael’s sister would make an appearance, but the past twenty minutes had been so chaotic she hadn’t had time to think about who else they’d have to involve in this farce. Gabi would not buy that they were dating. First, Gael told his sister everything, and second, Gabi knew exactly why she was here. And as good an actor as her brother was, Gabi did not have a poker face. Perla turned from the platter of empanadas she was pretending to arrange and put her arms around Gael’s neck. Her mouth barely reached his throat, so she had to rise on her tiptoes to speak close to his ear.
She wished that he didn’t feel this good. That the reality of him didn’t make every one of her many fantasies pale in comparison. A wicked and not a little bit reckless thought occurred to her as they stood there pressed together in his family’s dining room: she had the next couple of hours to touch Gael Montez as much as she wanted.
It would be a problem later; she knew that. She was already halfway back to that emotional chaos that only Gael could cause in her, but she found that she didn’t much care. How could she deny herself this feast of a man when he was literally offering himself up on a silver platter? Was it reckless? Yes. But he’d asked her to pretend. No, not asked, demanded. He’d demanded she play this role for the next two hours. The role of besotted girlfriend, that they convince his mother they were an item once again. And that was how they’d been back then. Constantly touching, Veronica, Gabi and Abuela had mercilessly teased them about “all the PDA.”
“What are you doing?” he asked tersely, without pulling back.
“Did you tell Gabi?” Immediately he tightened his arms around her. His massive chest like a living, breathing wall against her.
He nodded before he opened his mouth and the way his scruff grazed against her skin made shivers course all through her body. “Gabi knows. I caught her before she went to take the dogs out.”
“Okay,” Perla answered in a breathy tone, her lips brushing the side of his neck. She smiled at the strangled noise that came out of him in response. Something between a growl and a groan, and almost instantly he moved them until she had her back against the wall.
“If you’re trying to play games with me, don’t,” he gritted out, his big body pressed to her. “I will call your bluff, every time, Perla. I thought you’d know that by now. Or was that kiss in the study not enough of a warning for you?”
She didn’t know why she was provoking him. But her better judgment seemed to be on permanent hiatus when it came to Gael Montez. And there was something else she was testing. Another motive behind her urge to push him. She was trying to answer the question she’d been asking herself for six years. How had Gael gone from being devoted to her to heartlessly indifferent practically overnight?
She’d never quite figured out where things had gone so wrong with them. Because Gael had never given her reason to doubt his devotion to her. Then without explanation he’d let her go. Now that she was with him, that she could touch him and feel his reaction to her, it was beyond her to not find out if she still had that effect on him.
She tipped her face up so that her lips were just inches from his. “And here I was thinking that was just how you kissed on all your auditions.”
He scowled at that, biting his bottom lip, like he had no idea what to do with her. “What’s going on with you, Perla? You’re not like this.” He sounded confused, and something else that she could not quite pinpoint. Annoyed or not, his arms enveloped her and she felt a shiver course through his body as he held her. Still, that he saw her as some frail waif nettled.
“You haven’t known what I’m like for a very long time, Gael,” she retorted, sliding from under the cage he’d made with his body. “And what could possibly be going on with me? Other than having to lie to your whole family.”
The meal was wonderful. The food delicious and full of all her favorite Puerto Rican treats. The kind of stuff her mother had never served when they were kids, but that her grandmother would make whenever she’d come for a visit from the DR. But it wasn’t just the food, it was the company. She’d grown up in a home where there wasn’t much warmth. Perla’s parents had a toxic, tempestuous relationship that sucked the joy out of every moment. Which was why her time with the Montez family had been such a balm. People who sat around the table and talked. Laughed with each other,likedeach other.
She’d told herself the whole ordeal would be agonizing, that Gael would be awkward and that she’d be flustered counting the minutes until it was over. But she could not have been more wrong. The moment they’d all sat down, it felt like the old days. Like one of the many weekends when Perla had driven down with Gael for a meal. Forgone a fancy weekend somewhere with her own family to be with the Montez crew. No matter what she might have told herself, she’d missed these people; she’d missed him.
“It’s been so nice to have you with us, Perlita,” Veronica said for what had to be the tenth time since they’d sat down to eat. All through the meal she’d been getting sly smiles from Abuela and Veronica as if they’d approved of her and Gael getting all handsy in the dining room. “You have to come and spend some time with us after you get back from Punta Cana. You know you can come here even if this boy is off on location, doing all that fancy stuff he does.”
“I will,” she lied, reaching for her glass of water. Her gaze fixed on one of the wreaths stamped all over the tablecloth.
