I thought of the close relationship between Carlos and his grandmother, and the fact he rarely spoke of his mother. And once, when I’d asked, he said he had no siblings. My mama might drive me crazy, but I couldn’t imagine my life without her, or my sisters.
“Was it just the two of you?”
A short nod. “I must have wished a million times to take back those five minutes on the shore, when I begged him to go. I’ve hated boats ever since.”
I felt my face burn over my stupid jibes. Had I really sung the Gilligan’s Island song?
The rise of the dike was clear in the distance.
“We’re getting close to Darryl’s camp,” I said.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks for listening, Mace. You’ve always been easy to talk to.”
“I just wish I could wave a wand to give you a do-over of that day.”
“Me, too.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “You would have liked Raul. He was kind and gentle. Much nicer than me.”
I smiled at him. “Oh, I don’t know, Carlos. I happen to think you’re pretty nice.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? As nice as Tony Ciancio with his Rolex watch and sailboat tan?”
“Nicer, in fact.” I touched his cheek. “And you’ve got a pretty good tan yourself.”
Now that the color had returned to his face, his skin looked yummy, like butterscotch toffee. I had the urge to lean over and taste it.
He laid his palm over mine, pressing my hand against his face. Then he turned his head ever so slightly, just enough for his lips to meet my open palm. When they did, what felt like an electrical current jolted me clear down to my bare feet.
“Hmmm,” I said. “That’s nice.”
“It’s been a while for us, hasn’t it?”
“Too long.”
“How much time before we get back to the camp?”
“Too much,” I murmured.
Our eyes met. My heart pattered. What had I been doing, playing around? This was the man I wanted. And I wanted him right now.
He gestured to his soaking-wet slacks, which showed each muscle and bulge quite clearly. “Do you think they’ll let us use a cabin when we get back to the camp? Maybe clean up and dry off?”
I concocted a fantasy of Carlos and me in the shower, working one another into a lather. As a lascivious grin spread across my face, I wondered: Did I look as predatory as that big gator?
I was studying the shade of purple on Betty Taylor’s front door, trying to determine if it occurred anywhere in nature, when Maddie answered the bell.
“Why are you so late? Mama is madder than a box of frogs!” She wrinkled her nose. “And what is that stench? You smell like something they left behind in the cast net.”
Maddie’s eyes moved from my head to my feet.
“Those boots are soaking wet, Mace! Betty’ll throw a fit. She just had her lavender carpet cleaned for Mama’s bridal shower. You better strip off those stinking things before you come inside.”
At the word “strip,’” I felt my face get hot. My eyes darted away from Maddie. Memories of what Carlos and I had done all afternoon in an empty cabin at the fish camp filled my head. Skilled at reading the body language of guilty middle-schoolers, Maddie gave me an assessing look.
“Well, at least you have some color in your cheeks. We’ll tell Mama you’re trying out a new blush for the wedding.”
“I …”
She raised a crossing-guard’s hand. “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear it. I just hope you’re using protection.”
If my face was red before, it was burning now. “Maddie, please! I’m not one of your students.”
“No, you’re just acting like one. Do I know the lucky man?”
I pressed my lips together.
“Was it Tony?”
I shook my head.
“Is it that rodeo devil, Jeb Ennis, back in the saddle again?”
Another head shake.
“Oh, no you didn’t! Are you playing around with poor Carlos again?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “He wasn’t exactly complaining.”
“Give him time. I have no doubt you’ll be back to making him miserable once the afterglow’s gone.” She tsked. “Now, get out of those nasty boots and slap a smile on your face. We’ve just started a game of Pin the Tail on the Groom.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Sal’s here?”
“Yes, everything’s patched up; Mama’s over the Mystery Woman. But now, Sal’s the life of the party, and he’s stealing her spotlight. She might just give him the hook.”
As I stood on the mat to remove my boots, Maddie muttered as she moved down the hallway: “ ‘All the modern showers have the bride and groom together, Maddie.’ That’s when I should have said, ‘Since when is Himmarshee modern, Mama?’ ”
I heard a loud whoop of female laughter from the next room. And then Sal’s Bronx honk boomed, “Careful there, Dab! Another inch closer and I couldn’t perform my husbandly duties on the honeymoon.”
Ohmigod! It was the hussy from the drive-thru!
I came into the living room, barefoot, just in time to see a blindfolded senior citizen in a silver lamé mini-dress, holding a fabric donkey tail in her hand. The sticky swatch at the end was aimed perilously near Sal’s private parts. As Dab gave a sultry laugh, Mama did a slow burn on the couch.
As I sat, she hissed, “I never should have invited that shameless woman. She’s flirting with Sal, right in front of me, and I’m the bride!”
“Shhh,” Marty whispered from the floor. “Dab looks like she’s been rode hard and put up wet. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“And she’s ancient,” Maddie said. “I doubt she’s flirting.”
“Well, I’m sixty years old …” Mama started.
“You’re almost sixty-three,” Maddie corrected.
“Thank you, Maddie. I didn’t know you were running the Florida Department of Vital Statistics in addition to the middle school.” She smoothed her hair and lowered her voice. “As I was saying, Dab’s only got about ten years on me. A woman, and especially that one, doesn’t forget how to flirt just because she gets older.”
Mama seemed to notice me on the couch for the first time. “If it’s a woman who ever knew how to flirt, that is.”
I let the shot roll off my back. I was just grateful she was focused on Dab instead of on my late arrival. Or my bare feet. Or the color in my cheeks from incredible sex.
“Didn’t you say she had a doozy of a story, Mama?” I asked.
“Only if you think dancing naked on stage in a cage in Las Vegas is a story.” Mama raised a hand, ticking off items on her fingers. “Or, it’s a story being married more times than me, even though she claims we’re equal because she actually married the same man twice. Or, doing time in prison …”
“Uhmmm, Mama?” Marty said. “You’ve done time, too.”
She waved her hand. “That was just jail, honey. And it was all a mistake. Dab Holt got sent up for murder, I heard. They say she shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.”
Marty snorted a swallow of pink wine out her nose. Maddie said, “For heaven’s sake, Mama! You’re quoting a lyric from a Johnny Cash song.”
“Well, I can’t help that, Maddie. Maybe he wrote the song about Dab.”
“How come we’ve never met her? She sounds fascinating,” I said.