Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Since introducing Charlee to Abel and the guys the day before, Hector felt even more certain that taking this leap was the right thing to do. He hadn’t expected to be telling any of them about Charlee so soon. He figured he’d mention her slowly, letting the idea that he was actually taking someone serious simmer with them for a while. He was certain none of them would buy into it. One thing he’d always made sure of in the past and they all knew was he’d never call a girl his girlfriend unless she really was. This was the first time any of them had ever heard him say it, not like some of the guys at the gym who, for the sake of making the chicks they were out with happy, did so easily. Hector didn’t play those kinds of games, and that’s why he’d made it clear to Charlee that from here on there’d be no guessing games.

He was so serious about getting this right he’d even responded to the text he got from Lisa last night, ending any interaction she might still have in mind—even just grabbing a burger, which she seemed to think was innocent. Any guy wanting to take Charlee out, even if it was for just a burger, would certainly grate Hector the wrong way. He’d cross that bridge if and when he ever had to and deal with it accordingly. In the meantime, he wasn’t giving Charlee any reason to believe that he’d be okay with even that kind of open relationship.

Yesterday, Abel had totally wrecked Hector’s plans. Hector had actually thrown a blanket and a small cooler with a four-pack of wine coolers in the back of his truck before picking Charlee up, something Drew had given him the heads up on via text. If he was going to get Charlee anything to drink, wine coolers were best and one or two tops. Hector hadn’t been looking to get Charlee drunk or even doing anything with her beyond what they’d done so far, but he was shooting for romantic and relaxing. So he’d texted Drew beforehand to get a heads up. Unfortunately, the coolers never made it out of his truck.

Getting the inside scoop from Drew, however, was something that was going to stop. He was putting an end to the texts between them that would give him the upper hand with Charlee. It wasn’t fair, and he’d been dead serious when he made it clear to Charlee that trust was something he thought could make or break this deal. He’d just wanted yesterday to be as perfect as possible, but that was it: no more sneaking around getting inside information he should really be getting straight from Charlee.

This was why that morning when he was tempted to text Drew to ask if she thought Charlee might freak out about meeting his mom this soon, he held off. He did however text her to thank her. He mentioned how he knew now how sneaky she was. Charlee told him she hadn’t talked of moving back home in weeks, but, regardless, he’d never been so grateful to anyone in his life.

Drew’s only response to him calling her sneaky was a winky face, and then she graciously offered to text him a list of all of Charlee’s favorite things. She said it would make him the best boyfriend ever. As tempted as he was to take her up on that, he had to pass. It just didn’t feel right. He said it already felt as if he cheated. From here on, it would be all him. He’d figure this out on his own one way or another.

Before dropping Charlee off the night before, he, of course, made arrangements to see her today. He’d always rolled his eyes at those guys who were so damn whipped on their girls that they had to be with them all the time. Well, he was certainly eating crow now because he hated to say goodbye to her last night and all morning he’d hardly been able to concentrate without thoughts of seeing her later that afternoon.

So what? He’d admit it now. He was crazy about her. It wasn’t his fault no one had ever made him feel this way before. How was he supposed to know it’d be like this? He’d sooner swallow his pride now than be an idiot and pretend he didn’t need to see her again already. If he didn’t, he’d have to wait until tomorrow. Hell no. That wasn’t happening. Last night confirmed it. He was whipped.

Only thing was he and Abel had screwed up that morning, speaking openly about Charlee while they thought their mom was in the shower. Abel had even asked if Hector was in love, and when Hector told him he hadn’t known her long enough, his mother waltzed in the room, startling the hell out of both of them then made an announcement.

“Doña Benitez and I are barbequing tonight for Sunday dinner, and as you both know, I leave tomorrow to see your abuelita in Mexico.” She turned to Hector with an overly sullen expression. “I know you boys don’t watch the Spanish news much, but it’s a very dangerous time to travel into Mexico right now.”

“So why don’t you wait?” Abel asked.

Sighing deeply, their mother shook her head and continued. “I just don’t see a better time, and your abuelita is not getting any younger. I have to go.” She turned back to Hector. “But God forbid something were to happen to me and I don’t make it back—”

“Mom!” Hector hated when she was so melodramatic, and he already knew where she was going with this anyway.

“I’m just saying, Mijo, if I don’t, this may be my last chance to meet at least one of my boy’s girlfriends.” She lifted the famous Ayala eyebrow at Abel before turning back to Hector. “It’s just a casual barbeque in the backyard. Would it kill you to invite her so I could meet her just once?”

Grumbling, Hector reached for the quick-talking short little woman that had the power to make him agree to almost anything and pulled her to him. “Are you gonna behave?”

She punched him playfully in the gut before putting her arm around his waist with a smile. “Of course loco! What do you think I’m gonna do?”

Hector took a deep breath and braced himself to tell Charlee. He agreed to invite her to the barbeque, but if Charlee were at all uncomfortable with it, he wasn’t pushing it. This was way too soon.

Even Charlee’s reaction to his invitation had him smiling from ear to ear again like he had all day yesterday. She was quiet for a moment when he first dropped it on her, and for a second there, he thought she might’ve hung up, but then she spoke. “I can make a chicken pasta salad.”

He’d been so damn nervous about her thinking he and his mom were nuts. He wished now he’d asked her in person because he would’ve covered her in grateful kisses.

Charlee had insisted she could drive herself to his house so he wouldn’t have to go back and forth to pick her up then drive her all the way back, but Hector wouldn’t hear of it. Besides, he wanted to use the drive back to his house to warn her a little about his mom. He’d already cautioned his mom about Charlee not being Latina, and while she hadn’t been thrilled, she promised to keep her thoughts about preferring Latina girls for her boys to herself.

“So my mom’s a little on the . . .” He’d searched for the perfect word to describe his mom all the way to pick up Charlee, and now here she was in his truck on the way back, and he still couldn’t come up with the right term. “I don’t want to say manipulative because she doesn’t even have to be.” He wiggled his fingers in Charlee’s hand. Maybe it’d be better if he just explained it. “You see it’s always been just the three of us. My dad died when I was real young, and so basically my mom’s had to be both mother and father to us. And she did a damn good job too. The thing is the woman knows whenever it comes to me and Abel, what she wants she gets. Here’s where it gets tricky.”

Charlee lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “How?”

“Neither of us has ever brought a girl home. And she has these old-fashioned ideas about the kind of girls we should date.” They came to a stop, and he turned to her, a little hesitant about going on, but he did. “She’s always said we should stick with our own kind—our own culture.” Charlee’s eyes got noticeably wider. Even that made him smile, and he had to kiss her. “Don’t worry. I’ve never bought into it, and neither has my brother, but since neither of us ever intended on bringing someone home—not anytime soon anyway, we didn’t bother arguing.” He kissed her again before stepping on the accelerator again. “She’s been duly warned, I promise you.”

“Was she mad?” Charlee asked.

“No,” Hector laughed softly, squeezing her hand. “She’s not the Hispanic Archie Bunker.” Now Charlee laughed. “She just has all kinds of old-fashioned beliefs, rituals, and sayings. Like you don’t ever even playfully pretend you’re trying to stab someone like Abel and I did on occasion when we were kids because se te mete el Diablo.”

“Huh?” Charlee stared at him.

Hector rolled his eyes with a smirk. “The devil will get in your hand and make you do it for real.” Charlee’s brows pinched. “Yeah, exactly,” Hector said, nodding. “And she really believes it too. She had me and Abel believing since we were kids that if you hit your mom, se te cae la mano—your hand will fall off. I’m still not certain that’s not entirely true. But she said it so convincingly neither one of us ever dared raise our hand to her.”

Charlee nudged him. “She doesn’t sound so bad. All parents have quirks.”

“No, mine takes the cake,” Hector insisted.

“Well, my mom believes you don’t catch a cold from germs, rather from doing things like walking barefoot on the cold floor,” Charlee countered, “or going out when it’s cold just after you’ve showered.”

“Yeah, well, when she does get a cold or the flu or so much as headache, does Seven-Up cure it all?”

Charlee laughed out loud now. “No, but lemon juice works too.”

“Oh no,” Hector said. “Lemon juice is for the cancer or for an open wound. Ask my mom. Can you believe she’d squeeze lemon fucking juice into our cuts and scrapes? As if we weren’t in enough pain already.”

He loved watching Charlee laugh, so he shared a little more. “And get this one. Bathing suits for kids are a gimmick. It’s just the retailers’ way of trying to make money. I can’t even begin to tell you how many pictures she has of Abel and me in the summer, running through the sprinklers in our tighty whiteys.”

Charlee held her hand to her chest, still laughing. “But did she ever dig a hole in the backyard and fill it with water for you to swim in?”

“Yuck,” Hector said as he pulled into his driveway. “Okay, you got me there, but we do have a few pictures of Abel and me—once again in our tighty whiteys—frolicking in a storage tote or ice chest or anything we could turn into a pool because, according to my mom, they were just as good as those cheap plastic pools from Kmart.”

Glad that Charlee didn’t seem at all nervous about meeting his mom, he walked around his truck and met her by the front walkway to the tiny house he’d lived in his entire life and could hardly believe now he was moving away from.

Charlee looked positively adorable. Her long burgundy sweater, leggings, and boots weren’t nearly as provocative as yesterday’s jeans and tiny hoodie, but they were still enough to make Hector’s heart race. “Ready?”

She nodded as he took the pasta dish from her then took her hand in his free one. “Smells good,” he said, bringing the dish closer to his face.

“It’s probably the only thing I know how to make aside from the typical sandwich or generic stuff you stick in the oven or microwave.”

“What is it?”

“Ranch chicken pasta,” she said, crinkling her nose. “I got the recipe from one of those ladies passing out samples at the supermarket. It was so good, and when she explained how simple it was to make, I bought the stuff, went home, and voila!”

Realizing his friends and family were going to be around today and watching closely, Hector had to remind himself he couldn’t be kissing her every time the mood struck him or he’d never take his lips off her. But damn it if he didn’t feel like kissing her again, so he moved the dish aside and leaned into her against the porch wall just before they walked in. This kiss had to tide him over for a while, so he made it count, savoring her mouth deeply and sucking on her tongue and bottom lip. Suddenly imagining what it would be like to be in her, he got a little carried away, letting a moan escape.

The front door opened abruptly. “Down boy.” Hector pulled away from Charlee and turned to a slightly amused-looking Abel at the door. “Mom’s watching.”