He grinned wickedly (he didn’t forget) and his head started descending. “Don’t care.”

“What if they said something about me on the news?”

His mouth hit mine. “Don’t care.”

“What if they said something about you?”

Since I persisted in talking, his lips left my mouth, trailed down my cheek, along my jaw to below my ear. “Don’t care.”

“What if they said something about my father?”

His tongue touched the skin below my ear and then moved down and forward to my throat, I shivered then he said, voice deeper now, “Don’t care.”

“Hector,” I called, my arms going around him, one going up into his hair. Truth be told, I really wanted to have sex (yes, again, but he did just call me his girlfriend and I liked it, I liked it loads, and I felt like I should get to celebrate). But, as hateful as it was, I had to know so I went on, “What happened today?”

He pulled up and looked at me. Then one of his hands came to rest on the side of my head.

Then he did something strange.

His thumb came out and slid across the scar on my cheek and his eyes, warm and intense, watched it move while I held my breath at this gentle, yet somehow weirdly profound, gesture.

His gaze came back to mine.

“Today, we got one step closer to this bein’ over.”

This surprised me.

“One step?” I asked, confused. “But Ricky’s in jail. Marty and Donny are in the hospital under armed guard –”

His mouth touched mine and I quit talking then he said, “One step, mamita. There’s still more clean up to do.”

“What clean up?”

He stared at me a second then two then on the third second he continued, “I just wanna make sure you’re safe.”

“But –”

His thumb moved from my cheek to my lips, effectively quieting me.

“One night, Sadie. One night just you and me and this bed and your body and none of this shit comes in. For one night, I wanna forget it. Can you give that to me?”

I pulled in my lips.

I really wanted to know what happened that day and why, with the Balduccis gone, he thought he still needed to make sure I was safe.

But I realized two things at once and they hit me with the strength of an oncoming train.

First, he’d never asked me for anything.

That wasn’t strictly true. He’d taken things and he’d given things but he’d never asked for anything except to take care of me, for me to trust him and to give him this and none of those things took anything from me, they just gave.

Second, earlier that day, he’d called me mi amor, “my love”, according to Jet, the ultimate Spanish endearment.

Because of those two things, I nodded.

Then I watched, close up and fascinated, as his face went soft.

Then his mouth came toward mine.

Then we forgot everything and it was just him and me and our bodies in his bed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Christmas Dinner at the Big House

Sadie

I woke up, alone, the bedclothes tucked tight all around me.

I pulled some of Hector’s pillow hoard under the covers with me, held them to my chest and stared at the wall for several moments, mind blank, still half asleep. Then I wondered if sometime during that day I’d be undecided in ranking it as my second best day ever against the day before and the day before that (barring kidnappings and gunfights, of course).

Then I wondered if there would be a day when there were so many good days, I wouldn’t be able to rank them anymore.

And somewhere in the very, very back of my mind, I had a feeling there would.

This thought made me smile at the wall.

I got up, still sleepy because Hector kept me up late. “Fooling around”, I learned, was different than the other stuff we did. It took longer, loads longer, not that I was complaining (at all). I put on my pajamas and one of Hector’s flannel shirts and shuffled into the hall.

I smelled bacon cooking and heard voices downstairs and I knew Hector had company (again).

I wandered downstairs, through the living room and into the kitchen.

Hector not only had company, he had loads of company. Tom, Kitty Sue and Malcolm were there. Blanca was at the stove. Vance was leaning against the counter. All of them had coffee mugs.

Hector was sitting on the counter and I smiled to everyone, gave them a little wave but shuffled straight to Hector.

He opened his legs when I approached and I went straight in, my arms sliding around his waist, I pressed my cheek to his chest and one of his arms went around shoulders.

His other hand came to my chin and lifted my face. When I saw them, his eyes were soft and warm which made me feel soft and warm as well as snugly, comfy and lovely.

“You okay?” he muttered.

I nodded and murmured, “Sleepy.”

“You should have stayed in bed.”

I grinned, cuddled closer and, my voice breathy, I said, “Babe. And miss the party?”

His face changed, it got that soft, hard, possessive look and his eyes went from warm to hot. If we didn’t have an audience, I knew something would have happened but instead he let go of my chin. I dipped my head, pressed my cheek against his chest again, he muttered some soft words in Spanish into my hair and then kissed me there.

I caught sight of Blanca who was staring at us, bacon fork pointed up, coffee mug in her other hand.

I blinked then blinked again but even so, the expression on her face didn’t change. She was watching me with a feminine, motherly version of the same soft, hard, possessive look that her son had just treated me to. I didn’t know what to make of that except it made that snugly, comfy, lovely feeling intensify.

“Blanca, can you teach me how to speak Spanish while you teach me how to cook?” I called to her.

Her body gave a start, she shook her head as if clearing it and then said, “Sí, mi hija.”

“Gracias,” I returned.

She grinned.

I grinned back.

Kitty Sue burst out laughing.

My eyes moved to her.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

“I just think it’s cute, after twenty-six years, you haven’t changed. I’d be over at your Mom’s having coffee in the morning and you’d get up, all sleepy, and come in and give her a snuggle just like you’re doing with Hector right now.”

I was blinking again, that snugly, comfy, lovely feeling blossoming, the warm glow starting in my chest.

“Really?” I asked Kitty Sue.

“Really, honey,” she replied, her eyes shifted to Malcolm then to Hector then to me then, her voice pitched lower, she told me, “Though, if your Dad was having coffee with us, you always went straight to him. Always.”