Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I’m not given any more time to contemplate the situation before the door swings open and I find a tiny woman standing on the other side of the threshold. The resemblance between her and Lola is uncanny, except that there are more lines bracketing her eyes and mouth.
The corners of her lips slide upward as she takes a quick step in retreat and waves me inside. “Hello. You must be Asher,” she says in lightly accented English.
I nod and follow her into the living room. Next to her petite and fragile-looking form, I feel like a giant oaf. Her long, dark hair is pulled into a thick ponytail as she tips her chin upward to hold my gaze.
Even though Lola isn’t much taller than her mother, those aren’t words I’d use to describe her. In fact, she’d probably kick my ass if I did. Lola is strong willed and determined. I don’t think I’ve ever met another girl who is such a force to be reckoned with. I have a feeling that whatever she sets her mind to, she accomplishes. I’ve seen firsthand how hard she works.
“I am.” I thrust out my hand for her mother to shake. It feels important that I make a good impression. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Mariana.” She sneaks a peek toward the short hallway and bedroom before leaning closer and dropping her voice. “Thank you for doing this. Lola needs someone to come with her, and obviously it couldn’t be me.”
“It’s not a problem.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my khakis. “I’m happy to help.”
Anger flashes in her dark eyes as her brow furrows. “I hate that Tony’s put her in this kind of position. He hasn’t bothered to pick up the phone and call her in years. And now he contacts her for something like this?” She shakes her head. “No.”
I blink in surprise, unsure how to respond to the emotion crackling in her voice.
Before I can say anything, Lola chooses that moment to join us.
My gaze settles on her, and the conversation with her mother falls right out of my head. She’s wearing a pale pink sweater that hugs her slender curves and dark wash jeans that fit like a glove. Her hair has been left all long and loose to float around her shoulders.
We haven’t seen each other since Sunday morning. It’s only now that I realize how hungry I’ve been for the sight of her. My mind tumbles back to the way I played with her naked body—touching her breasts, sucking the hard tips into my mouth, licking her softness, before forcing her to surrender. As I continue staring, her beauty hits me like a punch to the gut.
“You look gorgeous.” The compliment escapes before I can stuff it back inside my mouth.
A light blush hits Lola’s cheeks as our gazes catch and hold before she glances away.
“Thanks.” Her hands drift over her sweater as she shifts her stance.
Her discomfort with the compliment is palpable, and it makes me wonder why more people haven’t told her this. It’s so tempting to swallow up the distance between us and take her into my arms. I’m starving for the feel of her beneath my hands. When my tongue darts out to lick at my lower lip as if I can still taste her there from the other morning, her gaze drops to the movement.
Is she thinking about it as well?
She clears her throat and rips her attention away before focusing on her mother. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
Mariana smiles before patting her daughter’s arm. “Of course. I’ll probably watch a little TV. Maybe read a book. You don’t need to worry.”
She nods toward the kitchen. “The carne guisada is ready. Just give it a couple minutes to cool.”
“I’m not hungry right now. Maybe later.”
“You need to eat.”
“I know,” she says with a wave. “I will. I’m not a child.”
Lola bites down on her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. “If you need anything, just text or call. Okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Mariana glances at me from beneath a thick fringe of inky-colored lashes. Even with her dark complexion, a blush stains her cheeks. “You worry too much.”
“So you like to tell me,” Lola says with a sigh.
As I listen to their conversation, observing their interaction, it hits me that their roles almost seem reversed. Even though we’ve been spending more time together, she doesn’t talk much about her childhood. I know her father bailed when she was a kid and she lived with her mother after that. Only now am I picking up on the fact that there might be other issues at play. It's obvious that there’s a lot of love between these two women, but it’s equally apparent that Lola has taken on the role of caretaker.