distracted from my professional duties by your shenanigans,” she replied.
“Shenanigans?” He couldn’t help but appreciate her choice of words, though he resented the implication that he was solely to blame. “I didn’t hear you ask me to stop kissing you, Jordan. If I remember correctly, you were the one with your tongue down my throat,” he needled.
She gasped in outrage, just as he’d known she would. “I did not have my tongue—oh! You are such a pompous, swaggering oaf! I will tell you right now that unless you leave the houseboat while I’m here, I am not going to tutor Silas any longer!”
“Why don’t you just admit you’re tempted,” he taunted, his own temper igniting.
“Tempted?” she sneered, her fist clenching as she no doubt suffered the urge to punch him. “I don’t even like you!” she bit out.
Oddly, her retort hurt his feelings. He kept quiet as she yanked open her car door, tossed the basket inside, and slipped in. She started up the engine, glaring up at him. “You took my son away from me,” she added with a quaver in her voice and a sheen of tears in her indigo eyes. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”
Her honesty left him speechless. He watched her back up, executing a quick, tight turn.
As she pulled away, he read her personalized license plate: 4 miguel. A knot of uncertainty twisted slowly in Solomon’s gut. He had to concede that Jordan was far more complicated than any woman he’d ever pursued before. Her burning love for an orphaned street child captivated him. Lust ached dully in his groin. Maybe he should give up this compulsion to have her. Forget he’d ever laid eyes on her or tossed her into a helicopter screaming invectives at him.
Heaving a dissatisfied sigh, he turned to plod down the hill toward Silas, who waved at him from high up in the live oak tree, crying, “Look at me!”
Miguel heard a noise on the street that he had never heard before, a rumbling that shook the earth beneath his hands and knees. Wide-eyed, he glanced up from the circle that was drawn into the dirt, holding back the marble he was supposed to toss. The high cement walls that enclosed the churchyard prevented him from seeing anything. He glanced at Raúl with a question in his eyes.
¿Qué es?
Raúl shook his head and dropped his own marble. “
No sé
,” he said, leaping to his feet with excitement. “
¡Ven!
”
Come,
thought Miguel. That was the word Jordan would have used.
He trailed the older boy to the wall, and the rumbling grew louder. He could feel it through the thin soles of his shoes. It reminded him of the big bird that had taken his Jordan away,
el hélicopter.
“
Sube el árbol,
” Raúl commanded.
Climb the tree.
Miguel was the best at climbing, but he was afraid. He shook his head.
Raúl nudged him forward, commanding him impatiently.
Fear made Miguel weak. Still, he could grip the banana tree with his knees and haul himself, bit by bit, up its slippery trunk. The rumbling grew louder. He was afraid to peer over the top of the wall, daunted by the broken shards of glass cemented there to keep bad men out.
But what if the noise was Jordan’s bird bringing her back?
Craning his neck, Miguel peered over the glittering glass shards. His eyes flew wide. Through the dust rising into the air he watched enormous green vehicles roll past him, crossing in front of the cathedral where they stayed with Padre.
He froze as he watched them, mesmerized by their ominous thunder. He didn’t know what it meant that they were here. He only had a feeling that they would keep his Jordan away.
“
¡Niños!
” Padre’s worried voice called to them across the yard. “Come inside now. Hurry!” the priest called.
Miguel obediently loosed his grip, slid down the trunk, and crashed into the hard earth to land on his bottom. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to.
The priest hurried over, clucking under his breath, and lifted him into his
“Shenanigans?” He couldn’t help but appreciate her choice of words, though he resented the implication that he was solely to blame. “I didn’t hear you ask me to stop kissing you, Jordan. If I remember correctly, you were the one with your tongue down my throat,” he needled.
She gasped in outrage, just as he’d known she would. “I did not have my tongue—oh! You are such a pompous, swaggering oaf! I will tell you right now that unless you leave the houseboat while I’m here, I am not going to tutor Silas any longer!”
“Why don’t you just admit you’re tempted,” he taunted, his own temper igniting.
“Tempted?” she sneered, her fist clenching as she no doubt suffered the urge to punch him. “I don’t even like you!” she bit out.
Oddly, her retort hurt his feelings. He kept quiet as she yanked open her car door, tossed the basket inside, and slipped in. She started up the engine, glaring up at him. “You took my son away from me,” she added with a quaver in her voice and a sheen of tears in her indigo eyes. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.”
Her honesty left him speechless. He watched her back up, executing a quick, tight turn.
As she pulled away, he read her personalized license plate: 4 miguel. A knot of uncertainty twisted slowly in Solomon’s gut. He had to concede that Jordan was far more complicated than any woman he’d ever pursued before. Her burning love for an orphaned street child captivated him. Lust ached dully in his groin. Maybe he should give up this compulsion to have her. Forget he’d ever laid eyes on her or tossed her into a helicopter screaming invectives at him.
Heaving a dissatisfied sigh, he turned to plod down the hill toward Silas, who waved at him from high up in the live oak tree, crying, “Look at me!”
Miguel heard a noise on the street that he had never heard before, a rumbling that shook the earth beneath his hands and knees. Wide-eyed, he glanced up from the circle that was drawn into the dirt, holding back the marble he was supposed to toss. The high cement walls that enclosed the churchyard prevented him from seeing anything. He glanced at Raúl with a question in his eyes.
¿Qué es?
Raúl shook his head and dropped his own marble. “
No sé
,” he said, leaping to his feet with excitement. “
¡Ven!
”
Come,
thought Miguel. That was the word Jordan would have used.
He trailed the older boy to the wall, and the rumbling grew louder. He could feel it through the thin soles of his shoes. It reminded him of the big bird that had taken his Jordan away,
el hélicopter.
“
Sube el árbol,
” Raúl commanded.
Climb the tree.
Miguel was the best at climbing, but he was afraid. He shook his head.
Raúl nudged him forward, commanding him impatiently.
Fear made Miguel weak. Still, he could grip the banana tree with his knees and haul himself, bit by bit, up its slippery trunk. The rumbling grew louder. He was afraid to peer over the top of the wall, daunted by the broken shards of glass cemented there to keep bad men out.
But what if the noise was Jordan’s bird bringing her back?
Craning his neck, Miguel peered over the glittering glass shards. His eyes flew wide. Through the dust rising into the air he watched enormous green vehicles roll past him, crossing in front of the cathedral where they stayed with Padre.
He froze as he watched them, mesmerized by their ominous thunder. He didn’t know what it meant that they were here. He only had a feeling that they would keep his Jordan away.
“
¡Niños!
” Padre’s worried voice called to them across the yard. “Come inside now. Hurry!” the priest called.
Miguel obediently loosed his grip, slid down the trunk, and crashed into the hard earth to land on his bottom. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to.
The priest hurried over, clucking under his breath, and lifted him into his
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