Miguel walked in wide-eyed and curious. “Nice place. It’s cozy. I’ll bet you get a lot of light in the daytime.”
“Yeah, I do.” I walked with him into the open-plan living room and kitchen. “It’s small, but I like it,” I said.
He made a small squeak and hurried over to my keyboard, which was on a stand in the corner of the living room. “It’s Cody’s ‘no!’”
I stared at him. “I’m surprised you remember that.” A little before Christmas, I’d had Cody in the hotel dining room because Allie hadn’t picked him up from me before I had to go to work. Cody had made a break for it and started pounding on the hotel’s Steinway grand piano. At the time, he couldn’t say piano, so he kept saying, “No!” It’d been pretty cute. Miguel had rescued the piano and charmed my nephew at the same time.
“Of course I remember,” Miguel said. “That boy’s as cute as a button.”
I had to smile. “Yeah, he is. It turns out he has a speech delay, which was why he couldn’t say piano. They picked it up in preschool. He’s working with a speech therapist now.”
“That’s good,” Miguel said. “The earlier, the better.” He ran his hand over the keyboard. “This is a pretty nice keyboard. Do you play a lot?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t in a while because I work too damn much. I really like to play, and I’m pretty good at it. I wish I had more time.”
He shook his head. “I don’t get why you work so much. I thought mechanics made pretty good money.”
“Most do,” I said with a bitter twist to my mouth. “But Jeff is a cheap bastard. And he took away my Saturday because of my National Guard training. Plus, I help Allie pay for some things for Cody. She went to community college and got an associate’s degree in early childhood education. I helped with some of the expenses. She was going to go on to a four-year college, but Cody came along and she never did it. She could only get a certificate to work in a daycare, which doesn’t pay very well.”
“Wait. Back up,” Miguel said, his brow creased in a frown. “Your boss won’t let you work on Saturdays because you serve your country one weekend a month and two weeks a year? What the actual fuck?”
“I guess I shouldn’t complain about not having to work on Saturday, but I need the extra money. That’s why I’m so glad your brunch idea worked out so well. I make a lot more in tips now.”
“Maybe it’s time you found a new place to work,” Miguel said.
“Maybe,” I replied. “Jeff is my dad’s friend. He gave me a job at sixteen when I needed the money so we could have food in the house.” I sighed. “I guess I feel like I owe him.”
Miguel put his hands on his hips. “Do you or do you not work your ass off for him?”
“I do.”
“Then you don’t owe him anything. You deserve better.”
I smiled at the fact he was sticking up for me. “I’ll think about it.”
“See that you do,” he said. He waved his hand airily at my bedroom door, which was just off the main space. “Now, let’s have a look in your closet.”
My stomach tightened at the thought of the ever-put-together Miguel seeing my sad wardrobe, but there was nothing for it if I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends. I led the way into my bedroom and opened the closet door. Miguel took off his coat and threw it on my bed and my brain stopped working for a second. He wore a pinstriped sheer black long-sleeved shirt dotted all over with tiny silver sequins. Miguel’s mouth twitched into a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
I blinked and cleared my throat. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry. You look really nice.”
He smiled, and a little bit of color tinged his cheeks. “Thanks.”
Miguel then strode to my closet and started going through my meager offerings. He hummed thoughtfully, looking back at me a few times before returning to the hangers. Finally, he made a pleased sound and pulled out a blue button-down I’d worn to a wedding last year. He crooked his fingers to beckon me closer. “Come here.” He held the shirt against my body, looking up at my face and back down at the shirt several times. He nodded sharply. “Yep, this is perfect. Slate blue. It makes those pretty blue eyes of yours pop.”
Miguel thought my eyes were pretty? How many times was my brain going to stall in one night? “Uh, thank you,” I said.
He handed me the shirt. “Do you have black jeans?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I don’t wear them much, so they should look decent.”
“Good. Put those on with the shirt while I look for shoes.”
“In here?” I asked, my voice rising an octave.
Miguel rolled his eyes, but the bright sparkle in them had dimmed. “Honey, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. I promise your virtue is safe with me.”
Great. Now I sounded like a homophobic asshole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I guess this whole thing freaks me out because I keep feeling like I don’t measure up.”
