A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [1]
Mario didn’t believe in coincidences. He did believe in fate. For six months he’d wanted to find somebody for Zach, somebody who could save him from becoming a jaded corporate hack, somebody whose glass was not only half-full, but seriously overflowing. Mario thought he might be looking at her.
As he inched up to the head of the line, so did she. The more he studied her, the more he could see her with Zach. She was stacked, and Zach liked stacked women. It didn’t hurt that she had a pretty face, either. Mario even liked the way she stood so straight, with her shoulders back. Too many women slouched these days, trying to look like a magazine model or a bored superstar.
Her red hair was a bonus. Adrienne was blonde, and Mario didn’t want to introduce any echoes of Adrienne into the equation. Anyone who’d dump a guy like Zach for somebody with a bigger bank account wasn’t worth remembering, but Zach was sensitive enough to remember, and he might be off blondes for the time being.
Of course, Zach would object if he knew Mario was trying to fix him up. He would hate it, in point of fact. So Mario would have to be sneaky about the whole deal. He could do that. He hadn’t spent thirty-five years with the NYPD for nothing.
Reaching for his cell phone, he speed-dialed Iris, who would have opened her coffee stand by now. Iris Rivera made the best espresso in the city, but that wasn’t what kept Mario coming back. It was more about the whiteness of her teeth against her olive skin and that dimple when she smiled at him.
She was a kind person, so he wasn’t sure if she really liked him, but he thought she might. That was a miracle, that a woman like her could be interested in a guy with more gray than black in his hair and the beginnings of a paunch. He hadn’t decided what to do about his feelings for Iris, so until he did, buying coffee was a good excuse to see her a couple of times a day.
“Sì, Mario!” She always yelled into her cell phone because she couldn’t believe the thing worked in the first place.
He didn’t care if she yelled. He just loved hearing her Puerto Rican accent, which made him think of swaying palms and swaying bodies. “Has Zach come by for his espresso yet?”
“No! But I expect him soon!”
“When he comes by, can you stall him until I get there? I want to talk to him about something.”
“I’ll try! Zach, he’s in such a hurry these days!”
Exactly. That’s why Zach needed a girl. “Sell him a pastelito and he’ll have to stick around to eat it.” Thinking of those pastries made his mouth water.
“Okay! Are you trying to fix him up?”
“I am, but don’t you dare tell him.” The taxi in front of Mario pulled away from the curb, so Mario eased his foot off the brake and coasted to the front of the line. “Gotta go!” Snapping his cell phone closed and throwing the cab into Park, he jumped out and came around to help the redhead with her flowered suitcase.
“Be careful,” she warned. “It’s really heavy.”
Mario had guessed as much. “No problem.” He gave the redhead an indulgent smile. Out-of-towners always overpacked. They hadn’t caught on to the concept of basic black, which meant you could get away with a much smaller wardrobe. Flexing his knees, he lifted the suitcase.
Shit, it really was heavy. A little flowered job like this wasn’t designed for this much weight. “You got bowling balls in here?” he asked.
“No. I just brought—”
She was interrupted by the rip of fabric giving way and the clatter of cans hitting the pavement. Tuna cans. Mario dropped the suitcase and grabbed a couple before they rolled under the cab. By the time he stood, the redhead was frantically trying to stuff the cans back through a fifteen-inch-long tear along the seam.
Her face was the color of a stoplight. “It wasn’t an expensive suitcase.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Mario ignored the impatient honk from the cab behind him as he adjusted his Giants baseball cap and surveyed