For Enrique, it wasn’t that simple. Sure, he was attracted to Carolina, and he admired the hell out of her. They also had similar interests in farming. But Enrique had a life he loved in San Diego, and he didn’t want to rush into a courtship. Even though he was attracted to her, they were too different, from opposite worlds.
Enrique couldn’t imagine a life spent going to church every Sunday, or worse—not being able to use birth control if she were as devout a Catholic as she seemed. He shivered. There was a reason he’d stopped practicing his religion when he was old enough to make that choice. It just seemed so hypocritical. He had close friends who were gay, and he couldn’t rationalize worshipping at an altar where they weren’t accepted. Organized religion just wasn’t for him.
But he would fulfill his promise to Carolina. And at the very least, by agreeing to date her, Tiburón had the chance to woo Blanca.
Enrique was surrounded by women everywhere—on the sofa, standing in the doorway, sitting at the dining table. All of Carolina’s sisters were dressed nicely. And staring at Enrique. He felt like a caged lion in the zoo.
Tiburón sat next to Señor Flores on the sofa, gabbing away in Spanish. Another shortcoming for Enrique in this situation. He understood a few words here and there, but they were talking too rapidly for him to understand any more.
Enrique always felt like an outsider when he visited his more traditional Mexican friends and their families. There were inside jokes and cultural traditions that he had never experienced firsthand. Like Las Posadas and Lotería night and... hell, pretty much anything outside of Taco Tuesday and Cinco de Mayo. When he was younger, he desperately wanted to fit in with his friends and his cousins. But no matter what he did or how hard he tried, he never felt Mexican enough.
Not that he didn’t recognize his privilege. He did. It was painfully obvious that his father’s wealth had afforded him and his brothers so many opportunities. Advantages that he hadn’t earned himself.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He’d initially arranged this trip to Santa Maria to try to stand on his own, contribute to the family business in a meaningful way, and become his own man. And now, he stood in Carolina’s home, lying to her father and feeling supremely uncomfortable.
He felt like a fraud. What was he doing there?
Carolina reached out and grabbed his hand. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”
He loosened his tie. “Honestly, I’m uncomfortable.”
She nodded. “Wait just a second.” She raced into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. “Here, drink this.”
Enrique downed the water. But no sooner than he had drunk the last drop, her father stood up and walked toward him.
Time to face the firing squad.
“So, Enrique, what are your intentions toward my daughter?”
Enrique gulped. “I, um, I don’t have any.”
Behind Señor Flores, Tiburón shook his head quickly. Wrong answer.
Señor Flores’s eyes bulged. “You don’t have any intentions toward her? Why are you here then, wasting my time?”
Enrique pulled at his collar and scanned the room. Everyone’s eyes were on him still, as if they were waiting for his next move.
“I didn’t mean that. I mean, I would like to get to know her.”
Señor Flores narrowed his gaze at Enrique. Then Señor Flores let out a huff, or possibly a wheeze, and returned his attention to Tiburón. Good move, old man.
Enrique didn’t want to be rude, but he needed to get out of there.
Carolina touched his shoulder. A jolt of electricity shot through his body. “Would you like to get some fresh air? I can show you the farm.”
He placed the glass on the wooden coffee table. “I’d love that.”
She took Enrique by the hand and led him to the front door. “Papá, I’m going to show Enrique the farm.”
Papá looked up from his intense conversation with Tiburón. “Alone?”
“Yes, alone. He’s a farmer.”
Her father scowled. “Take Adela with you.”
“Papá! I don’t need to be chaperoned. And certainly not by mynineteen-year-old sister. We’re going for a walk, on my property, not sneaking off. I walk with adult men on this farm every day!”
