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The boys didn’t register a protest as Maria drove them home—two blocks from Cruz’s house.
“Thanks for the ride,” Alonso said when he got out of the car.
“See ya.” Victor followed Alonso into his house.
Maria left the Five Points and made her way toward the river. She drove across Bridge Boulevard then turned on Eight Street. “The Hyatt Regency is on the other side of the Rio Grande.”
“Do you do this all the time?” Riley asked.
“Do what?”
“Drive through questionable neighborhoods?”
“Yep. Comes with the job.” She also lived in one of those questionable neighborhoods Riley referred to. She turned on Tijeras Avenue then stopped in front of the hotel.
Riley faced her, his mouth curving. Maria swore she’d have to ingest a dozen bottles of antacid medicine before her stomach recovered from her run-in with the flying cowboy.
“Let me buy you dinner as a thank you for helping me today,” he said.
Dinner…as in a date? It had been months since she’d sat across the table from a man, never mind that Riley Fitzpatrick wasn’t just any man. He was a sexy young cowboy…man.
“How old are you?” She winced when the question slipped out of her mouth.
“Twenty-five. Does age matter if we’re only having dinner?”
Oh, God. Maria’s face flamed. Had he guessed she’d been thinking about sex? She really needed to get laid. “Dinner would be nice, but I’m not dressed for the Hyatt. How do you feel about Mexican food?”
“Love it.”
“I know just the place.” Maria drove back to the other side of the Rio Grande and parked in front of a narrow brick-faced storefront with Abuela’s Cocina on the sign, sandwiched between a Laundromat and a liquor store. “‘Grandmother’s Kitchen,’” Maria said. “Consuelo makes great enchiladas.”
“Is it safe?” Riley asked, eyeing the car filled with gangbangers at the corner. The guy in the driver’s seat glared at them.
“No riskier than the wild horses you ride.” Rodeo could be violent at times, but at least the horses and bulls didn’t shoot at the cowboys who rode on their backs.
They made it as far as the restaurant door when a gunshot went off. In a move so quick it snatched the air from Maria’s lungs Riley opened the café door and shoved her over the threshold, catching her by the waist when she tripped on the welcome mat in the foyer. Before the door had even shut behind them, Riley had Maria pressed against the wall, his body shielding hers.
“Did you get hit?” he whispered.
Shock kept her tongue-tied.
“Don’t move.” Riley settled his palm against her hip, exerting enough force to keep her pinned in place. The heat from his hand burned through her jeans, warming her skin. She giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Are you finished playing hero?”
“Hola, Maria.” A young woman entered the hallway, carrying two laminated menus. She stared at Riley’s hand still attached to Maria’s hip. “¿Quién es el vaquero?”
“This cowboy is Riley Fitzgerald. Riley, Sonja. Her aunt owns the restaurant.”
Riley tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
Ma’am? Sonja was nineteen. Maria snorted.
“Sígueme,” Sonja said, disappearing through a doorway.
Maria followed the hostess into the dining room, stunned that a twenty-five-year-old man made her feel as if she were a carefree young girl and not a woman who had seen and experienced a lifetime of tragedy and heartbreak in thirty-five short years.
Chapter Three
Riley lost his train of thought as he drowned in Maria’s brown eyes.
“Do I have food stuck to my face?” She reached for her napkin.
He covered her hand with his, pinning the napkin to the table. “No. Your face is fine. As a matter of fact it’s perfect.”
Maria’s cheeks reddened and Riley chuckled.
“What?”
He released her hand. “I make you nervous.”
“No, you don’t.” The denial lacked conviction.
He eyeballed her fingernail tapping the table and Maria fisted her hand. “Why do I make you uneasy?” he asked.
“Besides the fact that you’re a complete stranger?”
“Yeah, besides that.” He popped a tortilla chip into his mouth and chewed.
“Let’s see.” Maria held up one finger. “First, you’re sexy and attractive.”
Wow. He hadn’t seen that one coming. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A second finger rose in the air. “You’re wealthy.”
“Money makes you anxious?”
“Didn’t your mother teach you that money is the root of all evil?”
“Actually, my father taught me that money solves all problems.”
Third finger… “You’re young.”
He’d read the occasional magazine article that testified to the sexual compatibility of older women and younger men. Made sense to him. He waggled his eyebrows. “Youth has its advantages.”
The waitress arrived with their meals and the women spoke in Spanish. Riley guessed they discussed him because the young girl glanced his way more than once. “The enchiladas are great,” he said, disrupting the conversation.
“I’ll tell Aunt Consuelo you approve of her cooking.” The waitress disappeared.
“The whole family works in the business?”
“Years ago Consuelo won the lottery and used the money to open a restaurant. Since then, most of her nieces and nephews have worked here at one time or another.”
“I hope she kept part of her winnings and bought a new car or treated herself to a vacation.”
“No car or vacation, but she did send her only son to college.”
“What does he do?” Riley asked.
“He’s an investment banker in Los Angeles.” Maria sipped her iced tea. “Pablo visits once a year and attempts to coax his mother to move to California, but Consuelo refuses.”
“Why?”
“This is where she was born and raised.” Maria smiled. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“What’s that?”
“This neighborhood is a far cry from where you were raised.”
“True.” No sense pretending he felt at home in the ’hood.
“Consuelo can’t retire or close the restaurant because she’s the only stable influence in her nieces’ and nephews’ lives. Without her, the kids would be out on the street running with gangbangers. She pays the kids more than minimum wage, but keeps half their paycheck and deposits the money into a savings account for their college education.”
Riley had never had to save a dime in his life. Heck, the day he’d been born his father had opened an investment portfolio in his name with five hundred thousand dollars. Today, the account was worth millions. When it came to college, his father had written a check each semester to the university—not one financial-aid form had been filled out the four years Riley attended UNLV. “Consuelo’s a generous woman.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Riley sensing Maria was eager to end the evening. He wasn’t. “You like teaching?” She nodded but didn’t elaborate. He’d never had to work at engaging a woman in conversation. “How long have you been a teacher?”
“I taught six years of high school English before volunteering the past five years with the district’s at-risk kids. The classes are part of the city’s antigang program.”
“The boys you gave a ride home earlier…were they expelled from school or did they drop out?”
“All three were expelled. If they fail my class, the educational system writes them off for good.”
“Do you have the support of the families?”
“Not as much as I wish. We have students who don’t even know who their fathers are and a few with dads in prison or running with gangs.”
Riley had experienced his share of disagreements with his father, but the old man had always been there for him; and Riley couldn’t imagine not having a male role model in his life. “Tell me more about the boys you’re working with.”
“Alonso lost his father when he was seven—gunned down by police in a drug raid. Alonso’s mother cleans offices at night and works at a convenience store during the day.”
The kid’s mother worked two jobs in order to feed her family and keep a roof over their heads. Riley’s mother had never worked a day in her married life.
“Why did Alonso get expelled from school?”
“He skipped too many days, but he was between a rock and a hard place. When one of his siblings became ill, Alonso’s mother made him stay home to care for them so she wouldn’t miss work.”
“How often do his brothers and sisters get sick?”
“His little sister Lea has asthma and is prone to pneumonia.”
“That’s too bad.”
Maria narrowed her eyes and Riley resisted the urge to squirm. “You really do feel compassion for Alonso, don’t you?”
Riley was the first to acknowledge he led a privileged life. He bought what he wanted, when he wanted and without considering the cost. And why shouldn’t he? He had an abundance of money at his fingertips. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t had to work for a dime of it. Even though he had nothing in common with Alonso and his family, Riley wasn’t so coldhearted that he couldn’t sympathize with their daily struggles. “What kind of student is Alonso?”
“A good one. Alonso loves to learn. He’s smart and organized with his studies and grasps new concepts easily. He’s ready to take his GED test but I’ve held him back because I haven’t devised a financial strategy to pay for his tuition at a community college.”
“Alonso wants to go to college?”
“He plans to enter the medical field.”
“Nurses and technicians make decent salaries,” Riley said.
“And the jobs come with health insurance and benefits. Alonso realizes that if his mother had health insurance his sister would have access to better care.”
“What about the boy with the scar?”
“Victor is bright, too, but he’s very self-conscious of his face.”
“Did a gangbanger cut his face?”
“His mother did that to him.”
His own mother?
“She attacked Victor’s sister after the girl announced she was pregnant—” Maria shuddered “—by the mother’s boyfriend. Victor tried to protect his sister and got himself hurt.”
“I hope the woman went to jail.”
“The hospital called in the cops after they’d stitched Victor’s face but Victor changed his story and said he didn’t know his attacker.”
“What does Victor want to do with his life?”
“He’s not sure. All the kids take career assessment tests and Victor displayed decent math skills and an aptitude for electrical work and plumbing but he’s not interested in those fields—which is too bad because a local business has offered to employ students while teaching them the trade.”
“What’s the deal with the smooth-talker?”
“Cruz Rivera.” Maria wrinkled her nose. “Like you, he’s popular with the ladies.”
Riley placed both hands over his heart. “Was that a compliment?”
“You know you’re a good-looking man.”
“Thanks.”
