Hot Latin Docs Collection. Tina Beckett

would never agree to.”

      “Sounds to me like he found someone else when he was in the US and chose the coward’s way out.”

      Saoirse’s eyes went wide, the clear blue clouding with a fresh film of emotion.

      “What did you say?”

      “Sorry—it’s not my place, I know. But from where I’m sitting, it just sounds to me like he’d found someone else, or chickened out, or—”

      “Are you saying he would’ve left me, no matter what?”

      Santi shredded three paper napkins in quick succession in an effort to stop himself from reaching out to Saoirse, providing the comfort he’d longed for when his mother had died in front of him. A near primal need overtook him to wipe away the tears spilling onto her cheeks, cup her soft cheek in his hand and tell her everything would be all right, but he knew it would be a lie. Most things that hurt you that badly were never all right again. He was living, breathing proof.

      “Forget I said anything. If he told you it was for the infertility—” He could’ve punched himself in the head. Why did he have to open his big fat stupid mouth?

      “He never said anything. I just...” Her voice faltered. “I just assumed that’s what it was.”

      “It sounds like you’re better off without him either way,” Santi said, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice. Since when had he become Chief Saoirse Protector?

      “Yeah.” She nodded limply. “Sounds like it.”

      His heart went out to her. To find out she couldn’t have children when she’d so clearly seen being a mother in her future and then to be publicly humiliated for her body’s betrayal... No wonder she’d been devastated.

      Particularly when the woman all but oozed life. She would have made an incredible mother. Vibrant, full of life, passionate. Just like his. He closed his eyes for a moment, an image of his own mother coming in and out of focus as well as memory would allow.

      She’d been so brave. Picking up and leaving her homeland with her young husband after losing two babies in pregnancy owing to poor medical facilities. Wanting more for the children they hoped to have one day than their country could offer. Giving up their professional dreams for the steady income from the bodega when getting other jobs proved next to impossible. The sacrifice of it all. The selflessness.

      Marrying Saoirse might be helping her, but from where he was sitting it served him every bit as much as it served her. So if they were going to do this he needed to know she was solid that this was exactly what she wanted. He wasn’t in it for love or the twentieth-anniversary parties or long-lasting honeymoon periods. He was in it to pin himself to Miami, where he had some debts to pay.

      “Dulzera. Sweetheart.” Santi edged away the bowl of salsa resting between them and took her hands in his. “Does being here in Miami make you happy?”

      “Very.” She answered without a moment’s hesitation.

      “Why?”

      “I feel...” She pulled her hands out of his, tucking them under her chin as her eyes flicked up to the fairy lights and palms and evening sky above them as if waiting for the answer to float down. She sucked in a huge breath and solidly met his gaze, “Believe it or not, I finally feel like myself here.”

      “You didn’t like yourself in Ireland?” He carefully dodged the use of the word “home.”

      “Not particularly.” She shook her head as if she were letting all the facts fall into place. “I used to have long hair, because that’s what most of the girls I went to school with had. I used to wear ridiculous shoes out to even sillier nightclubs in the next town along because that’s what everyone else did. Here? Here it takes me three seconds or less to fix my hair. I don’t even bother with makeup,” she added, as if it were the most liberating thing in the world. “And pony car racing. I did it at first to become better at driving the ambulance, what with the switch to the right side of the road and all, but... I love it.” Her eyes took on a starry quality that immediately brought a smile to his lips. “I’ve got a race tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

      “Absolutely.” He nodded. “On one condition.”

      “What’s that?” Saoirse asked, her entire demeanor suddenly lighter.

      “You let me marry you and help you stay.”

      “Seriously?” There was more hope than wariness in her question this time.

      “Seriously.” If this wouldn’t prove he was trying to turn over a new leaf, he didn’t know what would. “It would be my pleasure.”

      “And the whole dead parents thing doesn’t have anything to do with this?”

      Her hands clapped over her mouth the second she said the words and he had to admit he had to catch his breath, too.

      It was all well and good when he was the one “joking” about his issues, but coming from someone else? It hurt.

      He slapped on a smile. This was all part of it. The good, the bad and the taking it on the chin.

      “Nope!”

      So it was a lie. But it was pretty clear she could see right through it and she was still holding on so...

      “But...uh...” A flush crept onto her cheeks. “Just to be clear, there would be no nooky or making out in the back of cars at the drive-in or whatever it is you Americans get up to. Separate bedrooms, for sure. And no smelly socks!”

      Back on the familiar turf of wisecracks and locker-room gibes, he regrouped. He nodded emphatically. “I can handle that.”

      Tempting as she was, Saoirse was laying down the guidelines. Keeping her heart safe from any more hurt. He would have to do the same. It was the only way this harebrained thing would work.

      “Got it.”

      “And it only has to be two years, give or take an immigration inspection, and then you’re free to run off and fall in love with whoever takes your fancy. Or I suppose if you do fall in love with someone in the meantime, then I could divorce you for being a lying cheat!” she concluded with a bit too much glee.

      “What if I don’t want to be a lying cheat?” he countered, contrarian that he was, before chomping down on a tortilla chip with a self-congratulatory smirk even he knew didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “What if I want to be as true as the blue on the American flag or the glorious Floridian skies above us?”

      “That blue?” Her eyes widened.

      “That blue.” He nodded. He hadn’t meant the sky or the flag this time around.

      “Huh.” She pursed her lips at him, adding in a dubious twist.

      Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart!

      Her obvious lack of belief in his ability to commit stuck, thorn sharp, and almost instantly began to fester. He grabbed his shot glass, gave it a wiggle, disappointed he’d drained it the first time around.

      “Santi, this is a big ask. I’m not going to hold you to it if you wake up in the morning and want to run for the hills.”

      All I want is a chance. A chance to do right by someone.

      “Like I said, it’s not a problem. I’m happy to do it.”

      She sat back, arms crossed, and huffed out a sigh. “Okay, fine. There’s only one way I can be sure you really mean it.”

      “What’s that, then?”

      “Pinky promise.”

      He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s the arbiter of whether or not you can take me at my word?”

      “Yes. I need to be absolutely sure this wouldn’t be cramping your style, or ruining your life, or making your world miserable, or