CHAPTER 7
Addler
We pull up to the house, a sprawling two-story Spanish-style home that’s served three generations of de Marcos.
I turn to where Elena’s tucked into the passenger seat of my truck. Her eyes are enormous, her gaze running from the main house to the wing my grandfather added for my great-grandparents, then the one added for my parents, where I live now. “My God, how big is this place?”
I turn off the engine and glance out the windshield, trying to see the house as she would. Very few people from town, outside the regular staff, have been out here—by design. But those who do visit usually have that same awestruck expression.
“It’s a one bedroom,” I reply, earning a narrow-eyed glare. Chuckling to myself, I exit the truck, going to the back seat for her backpack and Bill’s laptop. She opens the door opposite me, her gaze going from her side of the seat to mine as she watches me pull the strap over my arm.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says, closing the door.
“No, I don’t. But I choose to.” I cut off any possibility of having her arguing she doesn’t need anyone holding a door open for her.
I lead her to the walkway, unlock the wrought iron gate in the archway, and move aside to let her through. The solid-wood door is next.
“Do you have a lot of problems out here?” she asks. “You know, with people crossing the border?”
A loaded question, if ever there was one. “No, I have security set up around the perimeter.” Besides, the arrangement we have with the coyotes and the cartel keeps people away from the house. Not that I’d ever tell her that, but the agreement has been in place since well before I was born.
“That’s good to know. Especially if you’re out here all alone.” She looks over her shoulder at the vastness of the property.
I’ve been alone out here, at least to a degree, for years. I never thought I’d enjoy it, but I got used to it after a while. Of course, the current scenario has popped into my head more than once, but I never expected it to happen.
If only there was a way to tell teenage me I’d one day be bringing Elena Santos home, and we’d be alone in the house.
I set my hand at the small of her back. The buzz of anticipation runs up my arm, same as it did once upon a time. She sucks in a quick breath then steps to one side. I can’t help but grin. As much as she tries to deny it, she’s not as immune as she pretends.
“Come on.” I have her follow me through the foyer, a hallway, the living area, and the dining room, then we finally arrive in the kitchen. The breakfast table, which is big enough for eight, has two place settings ready.
“Good morning.” Mayela appears beside the counter, as serene as can be.
“Mayela, thanks for sticking around.” I set the laptop and backpack on the table. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“It’s not a problem, Mr. de Marco,” she says, acting completely out of character. “Would you like for me to serve?”
I raise an eyebrow, questioning what she’s up to. This isn’t the woman I’ve known for most of my life. “You don’t need to be so formal.”
Her gaze strays past my shoulder. She didn’t wait to see if I needed something. It was to get the scoop on who I was bringing with me. While I could ignore her curiosity, I’d only end up paying for it later.
I give in and make the introduction. “You know Elena, don’t you?” I ask, as if she doesn’t know about what happened between us all those years ago.
“Of course. Elena.” She greets her with a warm smile. “It’s so nice to see you.” I raise a brow. That’s nicer than how she normally treats me. And nice to see her? How often have they seen each other?
“Mrs. Hinojosa.” Elena nods, returning the smile. “How are you?”
“Just fine, dear. And please, call me Mayela.”
“Thank you.”
Then Mayela turns back to me, expectantly. “Are you ready to sit down for brunch?”
“Yes. Please serve.” I manage not to let sarcasm sneak into my tone. “We can take it from there so you can get going for the holiday.”
A blush rolls across Elena’s face. “I’m so sorry to put you to any trouble, ma’am.” She shakes her head. “Really, a piece of fruit would be more than enough.”
“I doubt it,” I add, just to see her blush go deeper. Mayela’s gaze turns sharp. I can almost hear her chastising me for my behavior. But she’s old school, which means, I’ll get it later, once we’re on our own. “Not with as much work as we have ahead of us,” I tack on, just to keep the peace, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that you don’t fuck with the person who feeds you.