Hell, he’d believe they were in love too, if he were an onlooker, simply by the way she smiled at him.
“We might as well act the part of lovers,” Carolina said. “A dance together will be fun.”
“Fun? On second thought…”
She grabbed his hands. “You will dance, Lalo, or else.”
“You really are a torment.”
She bowed. “Thank you.”
Before he knew it, she had him moving to the music. It wasn’t a slow, graceful song but fast and thumping. Their boots moved and slid over the dirt, kicking up dust that tickled his nose. She spun herself around, holding her skirts in a way that showed a lovely array of colors. She stomped and clapped and laughed. Lalo found himself doing the same thing. Not the pulling of skirts part, of course, but the laughing. He laughed with his full chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever done such a thing before.
“You’re a natural,” she said between twirls.
“It is easy when I have you to learn from.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, his went to her hips, and together, they swept through the wide-open space. The grin that beamed from her was as stunning as the night sky. It was vast and unending and full of mysteries he knew he could spend his entire life searching through. He dipped her low and felt his own lips quirk into a smile.
But then, the music slowed and eventually came to an end. And it was the most miserable occurrence. If he could, he’d force the mariachi to never stop.
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, swaying at the phantom song still lingering in the air.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I was just wondering why I have waited so long to dance.” He had to be made a monster to really understand what he’d been missing out on. And that thing he was missing out on was his own life.
“Carolina!” Señora Fuentes called from the barn.
“One second, Amá!”
“Now, hija.”
Carolina winced. “I might be in trouble for that scene with Rafa.”
“Would you like me to accompany you? That was partially my fault.”
“No.” She smiled up at him. “But thank you.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.
A shock of pure fire roared through him. He was surprised he didn’t combust then and there. His hand went to his face. To the spot where her lips had just left their scorching mark.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For the dance.” She peered over her shoulder as her mother called her name once more. “I will find you as soon as Mamá has finished reprimanding me.”
And with that, she raced away. He watched her go. She laughed and swerved around a slender woman standing in the shadows, yelling out her apologies before disappearing into the barn.
Alone, confused, and for some unexplainable reason rather sad, Lalo headed toward his room. He needed to feed again to stave off the claws of thirst raking down his throat.
He had just made it into the casa when a voice boomed down the hallway.
“There you are!” Señor Fuentes called.
Lalo turned. Three men stood behind el señor. Lalo recognized Jorge from the journey over. There was an older man who had a hardened version of Jorge’s face—his father, Lalo presumed. And then there was Rafa, eyeing Lalo with enough contempt to fill the valley.
Lalo gulped.
