And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride: And Babies Make Five. Judy Duarte
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together.
After paying the bill, he orchestrated a brief stop at his sister’s table to thank her for the restaurant suggestion and to say goodbye. Then he and Samantha headed back to Primrose Lane. As they drove, he turned on the radio and found his favorite station. He thought a little music would eliminate the need to make conversation. And, for the most part, it worked, until Joe Cocker began singing “You Are So Beautiful.”
He parked in his driveway, still a bit off-balance and eager to end the evening and set his world to rights.
As he walked her home, the moon and stars were especially bright, and the scent of night-blooming jasmine laced the air. Apparently, in spite of his best intentions, a romantic mood was going to dog him all evening long.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said. “It was nice getting out, and the food was great.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Your sister was right. The Old World Bistro is wonderful.”
“Yes, it is.” And far more romantic than Hector had expected.
For a moment, he had the strongest compulsion to touch her, to cup her cheek, to press a good-night kiss upon her lips.
But that would be utterly foolish.
And so would lollygagging at her front door until he lost his resolve to keep things neighborly—and completely platonic.
“I’ll see you around,” he said, making a decision to steer clear of her for a while.
She nodded. “Take care.”
As he returned to his car so he could park it in the garage, he realized that Samantha had made a quick escape easy for him.
Apparently, she hadn’t read anything into that momentary rush when he’d touched her hand—thank goodness for that. Whatever crazy romantic notions that might have crossed his mind had been put to rest.
He heard her door close behind him, and it took all he had not to turn, to look over his shoulder.
But he didn’t want to give her any ideas. And he didn’t want things to become any more awkward between them. They were, after all, neighbors and bound to run into each other more often than not.
He pulled the car into the garage, then let himself into the house. He’d no more than opened the door, stepped into the living room and reached for the light switch when his phone rang. He took his time answering, assuming it was his sister on the line. Yolanda had been trying to hook him up with someone—anyone—for the past six months.
When he answered, Yolanda skipped the formalities of a greeting and launched right into the reason for the call. “Okay, Hector. What gives? Who is Samantha? Where did you meet her? And better yet, who’s the father of her baby?”
“Hang on a minute. I just walked in.” If he hadn’t actually struggled with some real-life attraction tonight, he would have considered her inquisition amusing. But as it was, he didn’t find anything remotely funny about it now.
He slipped the house keys into his pocket, took a seat in the easy chair and kicked off his shoes. “I was expecting your call.”
“Don’t give me a hard time. You can’t blame me for wondering. I’ve been trying to talk you into settling down forever. But maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. It looks like you might have already found someone.”
“Slow down, sis. Samantha is my neighbor. And since she’s a single mom, I thought she deserved a night out. We’re just friends.”
“She’s not pregnant with your baby?”
“Nope. ‘Fraid not.”
He could hear the disappointment in her sigh, and he decided to set her straight. “If the woman I got involved with was expecting my baby, my family would definitely know about it.”
“I guess you’re right. But you can be so secretive at times.”
“Relax. Samantha’s a nice woman. But no, we’re not involved.”
“I’m actually sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Recently, Hector’s parents had joined his sister in pressuring him to remarry, to start a family and to enjoy the fruits of his labor. According to his brother, Diego, they were proud of him and his Horatio Alger success, but they were worried about him and his nonexistent social life.
He’d tried to explain to them that a woman and kids didn’t fit into his life, which was why his first marriage didn’t last.
“Samantha is a beautiful woman,” Yolanda said. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in her?”
A bit too much, he realized. “Come on, sis. She’s pregnant.”
“I guess that means you’re not attracted to expectant mothers, and I can see why you wouldn’t be. I was looking in the mirror one morning and realized I was as getting to be as wide as I am tall. I started to cry—I do a lot of that these days—but Chad was such a sweetheart. He told me he loved me and said that I was more appealing to him now than ever before. He seemed sincere, so I sure hope he meant it.”
“He did mean it,” Hector said. “I can’t imagine how exciting it must be for him to know that a baby was created out of your love for each other. And looking at you, seeing that the baby is growing and getting ready for birth, has to be a real thrill for him.”
“Thanks, Hector. I needed to hear that.” She paused for a moment, as if taking it all in. “So I guess that means Samantha’s pregnancy is a turnoff to you since it’s not your baby.”
It certainly should have been, but for some reason, it wasn’t, and he had no idea why. But since he didn’t understand it himself, he certainly couldn’t explain it to someone else. So he decided to change the subject. “Hey, I’ve got a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Even though Samantha and I aren’t dating, do you still plan to give her a call?”
“I told her I would. And she seems like a nice person. Do you have a problem with us having lunch together?”
“No, not at all. I think it would be nice if you did. Her mother died recently, so she’s pretty much alone.”
“What about the baby’s father?” she asked.
“He’s out of the picture—completely.”
“And so you’re looking out for her?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Hmm. Now, that’s really interesting, Hector.”
He blew out a sigh. “Stop trying to read things into this.”
“Okay, I won’t. But don’t you wish you had someone in your life again? Someone to come home to?”
“Not if she’s like Patrice.”
“You see similarities between Samantha and your ex-wife?”
Actually? Not a single one. But if he gave his sister any idea that he was interested in Samantha—well, he wasn’t; he couldn’t be. So he couldn’t let Yolanda jump on an idea like that, or he’d never hear the end of it. And neither would Samantha, if the two women did end up having lunch together.
“So you’re glad to be footloose and single?” his sister asked.
“Of course.” He scanned his living room, which was cluttered with this morning’s newspaper, a copy of Golf Digest, an empty beer bottle he’d forgotten to take to the kitchen a couple of days ago, a golf scorecard he was rather proud of.
If Patrice were here, she’d be bitching about how messy he was. Not that he didn’t like a clean house; he wasn’t a slob.