One of the Guys Page 13

  Her father finally descended the stairs in a tan suit and striped tie.

  “Glad you could join me,” Ronnie said.

  “Do I look okay?” he asked. He stood in front of her and tugged on his suit sleeves.

  “You look fine. Now let’s go. By the way, Diego called and cancelled, so it’s just you and me tonight.”

  “Well, that’s how it’s been all these years. Did he say why?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s because of the Anniversary.” Ronnie led the way to the kitchen. “He’s probably not in the best of moods—maybe decided he didn’t want to go out after all.” She set the alarm and they both went into the garage.

  “Maybe you should check on him after dinner,” her father said, getting into the passenger seat of his car.

  “I might do that.” Ronnie climbed in and pressed the opener. The garage door lifted up. They pulled out and were on their way.

  Sumpter Technical College had allowed Ezekiel to pick the restaurant where he’d like to eat, and he chose the newly opened Hearty Kitchen in Midtown. He and Ronnie knew the owners of the establishment, an old two-story house with a wraparound porch converted into the perfect location to serve American cuisine, featuring meat, fish, chicken, and vegetarian entrees.

  The owner/chef, Ransom Stewart, didn’t have any professional training as a chef, but created delicious dishes that received high marks from critics and diners. He was the media darling on the Atlanta culinary scene—an attorney who’d left a successful career in civil litigation to open a restaurant.

  His wife, Sophie, had been bringing her vehicle to Taylor Automotive & Repair for years. She personally greeted Ezekiel and Ronnie the moment they stepped into the restaurant and pulled them each into a boisterous hug.

  “Welcome!” Her golden skin glowed under the ambient lighting. Curly hair in a neat bundle at her nape, she smiled her wide smile at them.

  Ezekiel eyed her loose-fitting dress. “Wait a minute now. Don’t tell me that husband of yours has already knocked you up.”

  “Daddy…” Ronnie covered her face in embarrassment, but Sophie laughed, her skin and eyes glowing.

  “Yes, he has, Mr. Taylor. I’m going to be a mommy before too long.”

  “Congratulations,” Ronnie said.

  “Thank you. Okay, you two, follow me. I’m giving you the star treatment. I placed you in a private room upstairs.”

  The private room was decorated with oil paintings depicting farm life, an ode to the farm-to-table philosophy of the restaurant. The room Sophie chose contained a table that accommodated twelve, and guests already sat at the table: three of the school’s top graduates—two young men and one young woman—three teachers, the dean, and two other administrators.

  “Order anything you like,” the dean said, adjusting his glasses.

  “Oh, I don’t know if I should do that,” Ezekiel said. He sat at the head of the table and picked up the menu.

  “We insist.” One of the other administrators leaned in his direction. Ronnie wondered how long she’d been sitting there, since she already had what looked like an apple martini in front of her. “It’s your night.”

  Ezekiel chuckled and said, “All right, then.”

  “The rib eye steak is very popular, and I also highly recommend any of the vegetable dishes,” Sophie said. “I’ll leave you all in Nancy’s very capable hands. She’ll take good care of you.”

  She left the room and the waitress, Nancy, took their orders. They started with appetizer and drinks, and when Nancy came back a second time with those items, they placed orders for the entrees. Ronnie ordered the rib eye with sautéed spinach and scalloped potatoes. Her father ordered the rib eye as well, but paired it with mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables.

  Time passed quickly, and halfway through the dinner conversation, the female student beside her turned to Ronnie and asked, “Is it hard for you, being a woman in this field?”

  Her name was Rachel, and she couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. She spoke in a quiet undertone, obviously not wishing anyone else at the table to hear the question. Despite being one of the top students at the school, doubt clouded her eyes.

  Ronnie considered the question before answering. She wanted to encourage, not discourage the young woman, so she chose her words carefully.

  “I haven’t had many problems, but I have experienced pushback and skepticism from ignorant people,” she replied, keeping her voice equally low. “Unfortunately, our industry has a terrible reputation. But for the most part, customers are polite and easy to work with if you know what you’re doing. Speak confidently and treat them fairly and with integrity. As for the male mechanics, I worked with my dad for years before I took over the shop, so the men knew and respected me. Now that I’m their boss, they really respect me.”

  Rachel smiled. “I just wonder how easy it will be for me to find a job.”

  “Opportunities for women are better than they used to be, but you can’t be just as good as the men—you have to be better to get the same amount of respect. Once you gain their respect, they’ll have your back.”

  Rachel nodded. “I know what you mean. When I first started classes, the guys gave me a hard time. They didn’t want to work on projects with me, and excluded me from activities outside of the classroom. For months I ate lunch by myself. But once I proved I could do the work, they stopped shutting me out. It was slow at first, but eventually I earned their respect.” She smiled tentatively.

  “Work on getting a couple of ASE certifications once you’re eligible,” Ronnie advised.

  “I will.”

  They rejoined the conversation at the table, where wine flowed freely among the adults. When Ronnie saw everyone was almost finished with their meals, she called over the waitress.

  “Go ahead and bring everything up,” she whispered.

  The young woman nodded and took off.

  An additional surprise awaited her father. A very nice glass plaque, a cake with “Thank you” on top of it, and gifts had been brought to the restaurant earlier. Minutes later, Nancy and two other servers arrived carrying all the items. “Surprise!” they said.

  They set the cake in front of her father and piled the gifts on top of the table in front of him.

  Everyone at the table clapped and cheered.

  “What’s all this?” Ezekiel said, his eyes watery.

  The head of the automotive program spoke. “We want you to know how much we appreciate everything you do for the students. Thank you so much for the time you spend sharing your knowledge. You enrich our lives, and the program is so much better for having you a part of it.”

  They all clapped again, and Ronnie patted her father’s hand.

  Ezekiel sat quietly for a minute, and the group waited while he gathered his composure. When he could finally speak, he lifted his watery gaze and spoke with a little tremor in his voice. “I volunteer because I love it. Love those kids and love the work I did for most of my life. I never expected to be rewarded. Thank you.” More clapping, and then Nancy cut the cake and shared the pieces to all the guests at the table.

  At the end of the evening, with the help of Nancy and another server, Ronnie and Ezekiel carried all the gifts and the leftover cake to the car. Her father talked almost nonstop, and she let him continue uninterrupted, which gave her time to think about Diego. Her concern for his mental state reemerged on the drive home.

  What was he doing? Was he okay tonight of all nights—when the memories of his deceased daughter were sure to plague his thoughts?

  At home, she helped her father take his gifts upstairs and then sat on the foot of the bed and chatted with him. She thought she’d done a good job of engaging, but her father squeezed her hand.

  “You’re not even here with me, nugget.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Diego,” she admitted.

  “You should check on him. I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” Her father patted her hand.
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br />   “You’re right. I’ll go over there and make sure he’s okay.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I’m proud of you. Get some rest.” She rose from the bed and kissed her father on the forehead. “Don’t wait up. I’ll probably stay over.”

  “All right. Drive safely.”

  Chapter 23

  Ronnie parked and sat for a few minutes. There were no lights on in Diego’s house. If he was already asleep, she didn’t want to wake him. Of course, he could be out. Perhaps he simply didn’t want to spend the evening with her and her father, and might be with friends or gone to see Tomas, as he’d done once before.

  She decided to try to reach him, and if he didn’t come to the door, she’d leave him a note so he at least knew he was on her mind.

  Ronnie rang the doorbell and waited. A dog barked nearby, and she heard the sound of a train roaring over the tracks a mile or so from the subdivision.

  She rang the bell again and waited.

  Still nothing.

  She returned to the truck, took a napkin from the glove compartment, and found a pen under the driver’s seat. She was about to write Diego a note when a light came on inside the house.

  He was home.

  Ronnie crushed the paper in her hand and arrived at the door just as it was opened—but not by Diego.

  Her stomach dropped and lips parted in quiet shock.

  A woman stood in the doorway—the Cristina Milian lookalike from the photos on the wall—wearing one of Diego’s sleeveless undershirts. The same item of clothing Ronnie enjoyed lounging in when she stayed with him. Only she’d never filled out the shirts in the same way.

  She couldn’t be sure the woman wore anything else under it. Certainly not a bra, because the outlines of her ample breasts were clearly visible through the thin material. The hem fell past her curvaceous hips, and she was barefoot, looking completely at ease.

  This was the “something” that had suddenly come up, forcing Diego to cancel plans scheduled weeks ago. This woman, his ex, who looked impossibly more beautiful in person, with her long, dark hair in a tousled mess. Like a woman who’d just rolled out of bed.

  Nausea clawed up Ronnie’s throat. She was going to be sick. Not here. Not now. Not in front of this woman.

  “Can I help you?” She appeared to be a little unsteady on her feet, and gripped the door.

  “I…” Ronnie croaked. She didn’t know what to say.

  She couldn’t help. No one could. If she hadn’t come here tonight, unannounced, tomorrow Diego could have concocted a perfectly reasonable explanation for cancelling on dinner, and she wouldn’t have known any different.

  Lying to her. Cheating on her. Just like Leonard.

  Anger and hurt burned her chest. Men were all the same. Said they wanted one type, but always went for the feminine, girly ones. And who better to fall back into bed with than an ex, with whom you shared a bond?

  “No, you can’t help me.”

  The woman looked at her strangely, confusion wrinkling her brow. Then the frown cleared, and for a moment she saw clarity in the other woman’s eyes. A smile—more like a smirk—hovered around her lips before she closed the door.

  Drawing a tremulous breath, Ronnie backed away. At the same time, a round of headlights flashed across the house. Turning quickly, she saw Diego’s black truck pull up beside hers.

  No. She couldn’t see him now.

  He hopped out holding a plastic sack in hand and his gaze swung between her and the door. He quickly assessed the situation. “Ronnie, wait.”

  She raced toward her vehicle to evade him, but he caught her around the waist with one hand.

  “Let go of me!” she screeched.

  “I can explain,” he growled close to her ear.

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  She elbow-jabbed him in the ribs and he grunted, loosening his hold enough for her to twist free.

  “You’re a liar,” she spat. Her hands transformed into angry fists, agony ripping through her veins, her skin, her heart.

  “I didn’t lie.” He spoke calmly and set the groceries or whatever the hell he held in the bag on the cement and lifted a placating hand toward her.

  “Something came up?”

  “I can explain, if you let me.”

  “Explain? There’s nothing to explain.” Her voice trembled with embarrassment and hurt. “I get it, okay? She’s pretty and sexy and has a terrific body.”

  “You’re pretty. You’re sexy. You have a terrific body.”

  “And after all, you have history. She may have cheated on you, but you obviously still care. It’s hard to turn off those emotions.”

  “Don’t tell me what I feel,” Diego ground out. Even in the dark she clearly saw the hardening of his jaw and the flash of irritation in his eyes.

  “Are you denying it?” Ronnie asked.

  “Of course! She’s my ex. Ex. For a reason.”

  “Then what is she doing here? She hardly had any clothes on. Only your shirt.”

  He grimaced. “She came over, hurting, drunk. I couldn’t turn her away. Not tonight of all nights.”

  “How very kind of you.”

  “She’s been resting.”

  “In your bed?” Ronnie asked snidely.

  “I know how this looks, which is why I didn’t tell you over the phone. The reason she had my shirt on was because she threw up on her clothes, and I gave her something to wear. Nothing happened.”

  Ronnie shook her head. “I wish I could believe you, but I’ve been here before.”

  “You’re not being fair, Veronica.”

  “You know what I don’t get? You pursued me. For a whole year. I didn’t want to have anything to do with you because I knew it was too good to be true. And here you are, proving me right.” Unshed tears stung her eyes.

  She had been perfectly fine by herself—alone, but happy. A state not easily achieved after the heartbreak she suffered from Leonard. But mentally she had arrived at a place where she accepted her single status. Until Diego changed her mind. Until he made her have feelings long ago suppressed and provoked emotions she purposely turned off.

  “You’re wrong. I wanted to be there tonight. I wanted to celebrate with you and your father. I wanted get my mind off of the significance of today’s date.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You have to believe me.”

  “No, I don’t. I trust my eyes. Not your empty words. Go back inside and play house with your ex and leave me the hell alone.”

  She rushed to her vehicle and hopped in.

  She flicked on the headlights and he stayed right there, illuminated and unmoved. Ronnie cranked the engine and backed out with a squeal of tires. Seconds later she roared out of the subdivision, on the way home.

  The tears she’d dared not let fall in front of Diego tumbled from her eyes. And to think she’d come over there out of concern. She swiped tears from her eyes, falling into a vortex of emotions.

  Hating him. Loving him. Hating herself for loving him.

  Chapter 24

  Ronnie lay face down on her pillow. She didn’t know the time. Maybe late morning or early afternoon. Either way, she didn’t care. She had no intention of leaving the house today or tomorrow. Maybe ever.

  Good grief, she’d turned into such an emotional drama queen.

  The doorbell rang, and she rolled onto her back. After crying all night, her puffy eyes burned. She pulled the pillow over her face to protect her eyes from the glare.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Who could that be? And where was her father?

  She rolled out of bed and peeped out the window. Diego’s truck sat in the driveway. Her heart constricted painfully. He wasn’t in it, though. He must be standing at the door, hidden by the eaves.

  She sagged against the sill. His betrayal cut deep. She didn’t want to see him. Shouldn’t want to.

  She heard movement downstairs and tiptoed across the floor to crack the bedroom door open.

  “W
hat do you want?” her father asked in an extra-gruff voice.

  She smiled at his rudeness and appreciated the support of her protective Papa Bear. He liked Diego and was almost as hurt and disappointed as she was when she burst into his room last night and told him what she discovered when she went to his house.

  “Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” Diego said.

  “Don’t you good morning me,” her father snapped. “I’m very disappointed in you. Whatever you have to say, you can keep it to yourself. No amount of apologizing is going to fix what you’ve done. You hurt my daughter.”

  “She misunderstood what she saw.”

  “Anything else?”

  Conversation paused for a moment, and Ronnie strained to hear. Were they having a staring contest?

  Diego spoke quietly, and then her father asked in a sharp voice, “What’s that?”

  “Something for her.”

  “I doubt Ronnie will want anything from you.”

  “She’ll want this.”

  “I doubt it, but all right. I’ll let Ronnie decide what she wants to do.”

  “Thank you. And would you tell her if she wants to talk, I’m home. By myself.”

  “By yourself? Quite the change from last night,” Ezekiel said.

  The door slammed closed and Ronnie crossed the room and went back to bed. She pulled the covers up to her waist and waited for her father. He came up shortly and knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  When he came in, she expected to see flowers or balloons or some kind of apologetic gift. Instead, he dropped a slick red folder onto the bedspread.

  “What’s that?”

  “Diego left that for you.”

  Ronnie sat up and opened the folder.

  “He looked pitiful,” Ezekiel said. “You wouldn’t know the two of you just argued last night. He looked like he hasn’t slept in days.”

  “You’re not getting soft on me are you?” Ronnie asked.

  “Not at all. But are you sure about him?”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “All right, then. Anybody hurt my baby, they hurt me too.” He patted an ankle under the bedspread.