Just a Taste (5 page)

“What would you like to talk about?” he asked.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't think she'd actually spoken in days. No one had stopped by and she'd ignored her phone. She'd even lied to her family and said that she was sick so she could skip out on Thanksgiving dinner.

He looked over his shoulder and she shrugged. How could she explain the hole she felt in the middle of her chest? It felt empty yet full of awful pain all at the same time. Guilt poked at her incessantly. She should've done more.

When she tried to inhale, the air got stuck and she hiccupped. That one small sound opened the floodgates and she couldn't stop the tears, couldn't swallow them down anymore. A stream flowed over her cheeks and she couldn't get more than a hitching, halting breath.

“Hey.”

Liam stood in front of her. She knew it was him of course, but she didn't look up. His hands grabbed her upper arms, pulling her from the chair and into his embrace. His arms circling her made it worse and full, body-racking sobs escaped. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt as if it would ground her.

His hands smoothed down her back in rhythmic movements and he murmured quietly on the top of her head. She didn't know what he said. She allowed herself to let go.

Carmen cried until no more tears came. Her eyes were rough and scratched against the lids. Snot ran down above her lip and she'd swiped at it so many times that she'd rubbed the skin raw. She had no idea how long she stood in Liam's arms before being able to breathe again.

He never moved other than to touch her back. He said nothing to interfere with her meltdown. Like her father had said: Liam was a good man.

She finally stepped away from him, embarrassed at her outburst and mortified that she had cried all over him. His shirt was disgusting with her tears and snot all over it. She wiped her sleeve down the front. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“No worries.” He touched her jaw and tilted her face up.

She couldn't imagine how bad she looked. She was not a pretty crier. She wasn't delicate and refined. The proof of which was smeared on his shirt. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

“Feel better?”

She rolled her eyes to meet his. “Not really. But I think I needed that. I'm sorry I dumped on you.”

He brushed a thumb down her cheek and she remembered why she'd wanted to kiss him the other night. She licked her lips and stepped away before she made a bigger fool of herself.

“Why don't you go clean up and I'll finish dinner?”

“You don't have to stay. I'm okay.”

He shrugged. “I'm staying anyway.”

Carmen shuffled away to take a shower and hoped she'd feel more human. The shower felt better than she could've imagined. When was the last time she showered? Days? Carmen rolled her eyes at herself. How had she fallen apart so quickly?

She had kept everything running for her parents for so long that she should've been able to hold herself together without thinking. After changing into fresh clothes—she couldn't believe she had let Liam see her in her ratty pajamas—she applied a little makeup to look more like herself, just a little something to erase the evidence of her crying.

Back in the kitchen, she found Liam plating food. He made it look so effortless and beautiful. It was just food for her, but for him, it seemed like more. “Can I help with something?”

He looked up, concentration filling his face. “Nope. We're all set.” He placed both plates on the table and pulled out a chair for her.

Was this guy for real?

When they were both settled in their seats, she said, “You really didn't need to go through all this trouble, but I appreciate it.”

His smile was subtle, like so much about Liam. He was probably the most unassuming guy she'd ever met. Not that her social circle was extensive. She looked at the food and tensed. On her best day she didn't have a good relationship with food. On a day like today . . . She released a slow breath and cut into the chicken. She had to eat at least some of it because Liam had done this for her. Besides, he would never believe she was really okay if she refused to eat.

She tried to surreptitiously scrape the buttery sauce off the meat without him noticing. The first tiny bite entered her mouth and her stomach growled again, this time in appreciation. The chicken almost melted on her tongue. It was so delicious. She allowed herself one more decent-sized bite and then focused on eating all the vegetables.

“Something wrong with the chicken?”

The line reappeared between Liam's eyebrows, so deep that it could've been a scar.

“No. It's really delicious. I just don't have much of an appetite.” Under his watchful eye, she ate two more bites before draining a large glass of water. She smiled brightly. “I'm full. That was a really good meal.”

Liam continued to watch her as he slowly chewed his own food. “I came here tonight because I wanted to talk to you about your dad's will.”

She froze. “I don't want to talk about that right now if you don't mind. I'm not ready.”

He nodded and finished eating. She cleaned up her plate and filled the sink with water. By the time she had the pans clean, Liam stood next to her, putting his empty dish in the water.

“Thanks again for dinner.” She didn't know what else to say. He hovered in the kitchen, not making a move to leave.

“How about a movie?”

“Huh?”

He leaned against the counter and waited for her to turn. “I'm usually working late, but I'm free and not tired. Want to watch a movie?”

“Liam, I appreciate you checking on me and letting me cry all over you. But you don't need to stay. I'm okay. Admittedly, I wasn't as okay as I thought I was, but I don't need a babysitter.”

The right corner of his mouth lifted. “I don't want to be a babysitter. I had a good time hanging out with you the other night and thought you did too.”

“I did. And you're more than welcome to stay if it's because you want to. I don't want you to feel obligated to stay.” She rinsed the last of the dishes and pulled the plug on the drain.

“I'd like to stay, but only if we can change the channel. You had your mom's Spanish soap operas on and I don't get those. Two years of high school Spanish won't help me understand.”

She laughed. “I won't make you watch the telenovelas. As the guest, you get to pick the show.”

After drying her hands and making sure the kitchen was put to rights, she followed him into the living room. He sat in the dead center of the couch, arms spread across the back, as if to stake his claim. When she came into the room, he patted the cushion beside him.

She took the spot, albeit a little reluctantly. He curved one arm on her shoulder and picked up the remote in his opposite hand. As he clicked through the channels, she settled against the couch and the feel of his body next to hers. It felt so good to be touched, to be held, that she wanted to enjoy it, but she feared she was reading more into it than she should.

They didn't really know each other and he had never expressed an interest in her. In fact, after her drunken offer the other night, he'd pretty much rejected her. Yet tonight he made her dinner and now wanted to hold her on the couch.

Time to turn off her brain. She was spending too much time inside her own head. She'd have to get used to Liam being around. Her dad had made sure they'd be tied together. She had no idea what he'd been thinking.

Liam settled on some silly comedy, stuff with slapstick humor and crude jokes. But together they laughed. And for those two hours, she didn't feel the guilt and grief.

When the movie ended, Liam shifted away from her. A huge yawn forced its way from her body. Her emotional breakdown followed by a ridiculous amount of laughter had done her in.

Liam stood. “I'm going home. Are you going to be okay?”

She stood to walk him out and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for everything tonight.”

At the door, he said, “I work the dinner shift tomorrow, but I need to talk to you about the will. Can we meet for an early lunch?”

Carmen knew if she didn't agree, he would have doubts about whether she was okay. And they did need to discuss the will. Although she'd known her dad included him, she hadn't known to what extent. She'd never wanted to talk to her dad about it. After her mother's death she couldn't bear the thought of him dying, so she wouldn't talk about it.

“Sure. Let me know where. You still have my number?”

He nodded. “I'll call you in the morning.”

He lingered at the open door, cold air pushing into the warm house. She thought he might say something else, but whatever it was died on his lips and he nodded again before walking to his car.

Exhaustion hit her hard. But before she dragged herself to bed, she gathered her notes and her dad's will to take with her to lunch. Like it or not, she and Liam had decisions to make and they would be part of each other's lives for at least a while.

Liam spent half his night and the entire morning trying to figure out how to talk to Carmen. He remembered what it was like after his dad died. The depression and misery, not wanting to think about him, but not being able to put him out of his head. But this was her future. They needed to take care of it as soon as possible.

He grabbed his work clothes and drove to the restaurant. He chose a place close to Carmen's house, even though it was out of his way. He figured she'd be most comfortable in her own neighborhood. When he got to the restaurant, she was waiting outside the door.

The wind blew her hair around her face. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, but she looked a million times better than she had when he'd arrived at her house last night. When she saw him, she smiled and waved. He ushered her through the door. “You could've waited inside for me. It's cold out.”

“I'm fine. The fresh air felt good.”

The hostess led them to a table and handed them menus. Carmen barely glanced at the menu before setting it aside. Liam studied his choices and tried to remember what he'd be eating with the staff at the restaurant tonight. He discovered he didn't care because he wasn't very hungry. He decided on a burger to keep it simple.

The waitress arrived with two glasses of water and asked if they were ready to order. He looked at Carmen.

“I'll have a garden salad. Low-fat Italian on the side and a coffee, please.”

“Is that really all you want?” He looked at her face, trying to determine if she was hiding something.

“Salad is a good lunch.”

He ordered his burger, but in the back of his mind, something about the way Carmen talked about salad felt off. He thought about how she'd picked at dinner last night. Maybe she was still in a funk and it was affecting how she ate. Who could blame her? Her life had been turned upside down in the last couple of weeks.

As soon as the waitress left, Carmen set a file folder on the table. “You wanted to talk about my dad's will, so I brought all of the information with me. I should've had the lawyer invite you to the reading. I wasn't thinking.”

“So you knew about this? You knew he was leaving me part ownership in the food truck?” He was sure she hadn't known.

She shook her head. “I knew you were in the will. I never asked him what he was leaving you.”

Liam couldn't read her. He'd thought she had been upset by this information, but now he wasn't convinced. “He shouldn't have done that. I have no right to his business. What do we have to do for me to sign it over to you?”

“He wanted you to have it, Liam. You were like a son to him.” She reached out and laid her hand on top of his.

He'd been a pretty crappy son as of late. “But this belongs to you. This is your future, your inheritance.”

She lifted her shoulders. “What am I going to do with it?”

“You can sell it. Use the money to do whatever you want to do.” He suddenly realized that he had no idea what she might want to do. Ever since college, she'd been at home taking care of her family. That knowledge reassured him that she needed the business far more than he did.

She sighed. “I can't sell it—we can't sell it. We each own half, but my father has a provision in the will saying we can't sell it for a year.” She puffed out her cheeks with a breath before continuing. “We can do whatever we want, even let it sit for the entire year. The problem with that is—”

“It loses value. By then, you'll just be selling a truck and not a business, not the business your dad built. That's not a realistic choice.”

She turned her palms up on the table. “I don't know what to do.”