As You Wish (The Summerhouse 3) - Page 47

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He didn’t slow down or answer.

When she saw that he was heading toward the back fence, she realized that he was going to the trucks. He was going to leave!

Elise ran faster than she ever had and just as he reached the gate, she threw herself in front of it. She was out of breath.

He didn’t speak, just crossed his arms over his chest, and glared—at the fence. He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“What...?” Pant, pant. “...did I...” Pant, pant. “...do?”

He cut her a look of such anger that the hairs on her neck stood up. Then he looked back at the fence.

To Elise’s surprise, she didn’t relent. When her parents or Kent got angry at her, she felt like a failure and skulked away. Maybe it has to do with...with caring, she thought. She was always afraid of losing their love.

But with Alejandro it was different. She wasn’t afraid of anything about him.

“Is that all you’re going to do?” Her teeth were clenched. “Stand there and glare at the wall? You can’t even speak to me? I wanted to give you a gift to remember me by. You are the one going away. This time next year you’ll probably be married and have a kid, while I’m—”

When he didn’t look at her, she broke off. “Oh, go away! I’ve had all the sulking, ungrateful men I can stand. I’m going to become a lesbian. The hell with all of you.”

She stomped away, but got only a few feet before he halted in front of her. She stepped around him and didn’t slow down.

Again, he put himself in front of her. “Is that what you think of me? That I’ve done so much for you that you give me a tip.”

She was still holding the watch box. “A gift is completely different. It’s—” She waved her hand. “You won’t listen so why bother? You and your sister are just alike. Cinnamon gum, Cartier watches, whatever. You twist them around so they’re something bad.” She looked him in the eyes. “If you think I have some ulterior motive for this—” she held the watch box in front of his face “—then I’d rather throw it in the lake than for you to have it.”

She looked at him with all the anger she felt. Her rage at Kent, her parents, what her life should be and wasn’t, all of it was in her eyes.

He stepped to one side and she started toward the house.

“Don’t come to my party this afternoon,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s for people I like.” When she got to the house, she slammed the door shut.

For hours, Elise worked like a demon on speed. She cooked and cleaned while playing music at a deafening level. Anything to keep from thinking about what had happened.

“Why am I always wrong?” she shouted, but the music was so loud that she couldn’t hear herself.

By three, she had huge bowls of guacamole with a tub full of warm tortilla chips. She’d made chili rellenos, burritos, and rolled enchiladas.

She did her best to smile when Diego and his men arrived, but her eyes were showing her anger. She turned the music down.

“Maybe we should come back,” Diego said.

“No, of course not. I made lots of food. Eat. Take the leftovers home.”

Miguel turned to Franco and said in Spanish, “I’m glad I’m not Alejandro.”

Elise whipped around and in Spanish said, “Alejandro is a steaming pile of dog poop. You like the guacamole?”

The men stepped back, eyes wide. “Si, si. It’s very good.”

“Then eat it!” In the house, she leaned against the refrigerator. She really did need to get herself under control. She’d put out only beer as the men had to drive home, but now she pulled limes out of the fridge. It was time for a margarita—or twelve.

Two hours later, Elise was laughing and dancing with one man after another. They took turns twirling her around. The music had changed to songs from Mexico that blared out from the cell phone of one of the men.

At six, Elise shouted that the men should go home to their families, but they said their wives and kids were in Mexico. She knew Diego’s family was, but not the other men’s. She raised her full glass, the rim coated in coarse salt. “To loneliness,” she yelled in Spanish.

They all drank to it.

Diego, the boss, the serious one who looked out for everyone, was the last to relax and enjoy himself. The men kept saying he was the best dancer but it was nearly dark before Elise could get him onto his feet.

Tags: Jude Deveraux The Summerhouse Science Fiction
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