Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [172]
Roberto. She needed him. Although she trusted Roberto, she couldn’t tell him about Suzie’s condition. That would be breaking the teenager’s confidence.
By the time she arrived at his garage, her eyes burned with unshed tears. The tight knot in her throat made it difficult to speak.
Roberto was bent over the hood of a car, and when she walked into the shop, he glanced up. He knew immediately that something wasn’t right.
“Brynn, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “Would you mind holding me for a little bit?” she asked, and her voice cracked.
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question her, but simply did as she requested. Gently he laid aside his tools and brought her into the wide circle of his arms. “I’m greasy,” be advised with regret, his touch light and tender.
Brynn burrowed deeper, needing his comfort. “I don’t care.”
His arms came fully around her then as he brought her against his solid strength. The hurt and fear, the disappointment and doubt, produced a hard, bitter tightness in her chest, and she clung to him.
“Brynn,” Roberto whispered against her hair, stroking it away from her face, “can you tell me what’s upset you so?”
She shook her head. The dream she’d had for her students seemed to have crumbled at her feet. Suzie had shown such promise, and Brynn had wanted so much for her. An unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the end of the world, but Brynn didn’t want Suzie caught in the trap like so many others. The teenager loved and wanted this child, enough to hide her pregnancy past the time she could have had an abortion. Enough to stand up against the wrath of her family.
As best she could, Brynn swallowed the emotion. “It was just one of those days,” she said, drawing in a quick, stabilizing breath.
“It was more than that.” He led her to a stool next to his work bench, and when she was seated, he paced the floor in front of her. “It’s this neighborhood, isn’t it?” His voice was gruff with anger. “You don’t belong here. I told you that before and you refused to listen.” He continued muttering in Spanish, knowing full well she couldn’t understand him.
“Roberto.” She reached out to him, but he ignored her. “Stop talking like that. Nothing you say is going to convince me to leave.”
He rubbed his hands clean on a pink flannel rag and then burrowed his splayed fingers through his thick hair, leaving deep indentations.
“If I’d known this would upset you, I wouldn’t have come.” Brynn felt bad about that now. “I’m fine, really. There’s nothing you can do except . . .”
“Yes?” he prodded.
She hesitated and held her arms open to him. “Could you please kiss me?” The world felt right when Roberto held her and loved her.
The beginnings of a smile edged up the fringes of his mouth. He walked over to where she sat and captured her upturned face between his callused hands. Her own hands found the curves of his shoulders. He felt stable and strong, and she needed that security. Someone to hold on to while trapped in one of life’s storms.
“Roberto.” His name came as soft as mist across a Scottish moor.
He closed his eyes as if struggling against her. She felt his breath against her face and touched his lip with the pad of her index finger. His mouth was moist and warm.
The simple action was all he seemed to need. Roberto bent forward and claimed her mouth in a long, leisurely kiss. Since the night of the dance, he’d kissed her any number of times. Each episode taught her something more about this man. He’d enthralled her from the first. He felt strongly about his younger brother, accepting responsibility for Emilio’s welfare. At the same time, Roberto cared deeply about the neighborhood, confronting injustice, prejudice, and hatred. Every time she met Father Grady, the priest sang Roberto’s praises. Already she was half in love with him herself.
She knew a part of Roberto wanted her to quit teaching at Manhattan High. He didn’t want her to deal with the squalor and misery he confronted day in and day out. He’d rather she returned to teaching at the prim and proper girls’ school. Yet at the same time, he was learning,