Page 30 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Ben

E mma fits in with my family like she’s meant to be here.

Mamà pulled her into a hug and gushed gratefully about the beautiful peonies she brought.

Emma and Cici hit it off immediately. She saw Cici reading on her Kindle when we walked in, and they’ve been talking about books for half an hour.

Even Cici’s fiancé, Adam, has engaged in a conversation with her, and he’s very shy.

She gave Mateo a polite greeting when we first got here but has otherwise been ignoring him in favor of Cici.

She’s also ignoring me, but at least I know she’s coming home with me.

Mateo looked a little dejected when she brushed him off, but Mamà told him to keep trying, and I had to bite back a possessive protest. If I know Mamà, she’s already planned to sit them next to each other at the table.

I may have suggested she’d be more comfortable if I was seated at her other side since she knows me, and Mamà agreed easily, which put me at ease.

Once the antipasto platter is ready, Mamà calls for all of us to sit at the large dining room table. I sit on Emma’s right, Mateo on her left, with Papà at the head of the table, and Mamà, Cici, and Adam opposite us.

We sip on wine and eat the various meats, vegetables, fruits, nuts, and cheeses on the platter while everyone—mostly Mamà—asks Emma a million questions, and I relish the way her cheeks stay a lovely shade of pink at all of the attention.

“Did you grow up in California?”

“No, I grew up in Utah. My best friend’s parents moved us out here shortly after I turned twenty.”

“Oh, I hear Utah is lovely, but I’ve never been. Do you have any siblings?”

“I’m the youngest of ten kids, actually.”

I nearly spit out my wine. “Ten?” I clarify. Everyone else at the table gasps.

Emma pats me gently on the back, chuckling lightly. “Yes. I have a blended family. My mom was married before and had four kids, my dad has five from his previous marriage, and then they got married and had me.”

“Ah, so you’re the glue that holds them together,” Papà teases.

Emma flinches slightly and forces out a laugh. “I guess so.”

“Are you close with your siblings?” Cici asks.

“Not particularly. I see some of them maybe once a year when I visit.”

“You see your parents more than once a year though, right?” Mamà looks offended. I find it hard to understand, too. I can’t imagine not seeing Cici, Mateo, or my parents weekly—daily in Papà’s case.

Emma takes a sip of wine, drumming her nails on her thigh. She’s nervous. I hate that I can’t ease her nerves. I want to take her hand and run my thumb along her knuckles. Let her know I’m here for her, that I’ve got her.

“Not usually,” is her vague answer, and Mamà gasps.

“ ?Por qué no? Your parents must miss you greatly.”

Emma’s lips try to stay tipped in a pleasant smile, but sadness swirls in the depths of her blue eyes. I get the feeling this is a tough subject for her, dulling her brightness .

“ Mamà , I think this might be a personal thing Emma doesn’t want to talk about,” I interject, a little more bite in my tone than necessary.

Emma gives me a small, grateful smile, and Mamà studies me curiously but nods.

“I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay. I wish I had a family as close as yours. Circumstances have just made it virtually impossible for that to happen.”

I want to know the circumstances so badly. I want to know why she’s closer to her childhood friend than any of the people she’s related to. I want to know how they hurt her and how to make it better. I can tell Mamà is itching to know, too, but she keeps her questions to herself .

Conversation shifts to Emma’s schooling, and what made her want to work in construction, and her answers make me feel even worse about the way I treated her when she started at Rossi.

She has a genuine passion for the work we’re doing, and she’s very knowledgeable. It’s no wonder Derek chose to work with her. Papà was right in giving her a chance.

Once we’ve had our fill of the antipasto, Mamà brings out the main course.

Our family meals are a good blend of mostly Italian and Puerto Rican dishes, and today is no exception. Mamà has prepared Bistec Encebollado —a marinated slab of beef topped with onions—with a side of white rice, beans, and a mixed green side salad.

Earlier, I saw the flan she made for dessert in the fridge. It will pair perfectly with our afternoon espressos, and I’m eager to see if Emma likes the creamy dessert. Perhaps if she does, she’ll let me feed it to her. I’d get to watch her plush lips wrap around the spoon and—

Not the time.

Once our food is dished up, I watch with rapt attention as Emma takes her first bite of the tender meat. She lets out an appreciative groan as the flavors hit her taste buds, and Mateo snickers from her other side.

Emma shoots him a glare. “What are you laughing at?”

Mateo bites his lip to keep from chuckling again. “I’m just glad to see you enjoying the food.”

“I grew up in a household where pepper was considered spicy. Sue me for appreciating food with actual flavor.” She uses a perfectly manicured nail to poke him in the arm, which makes him grin even wider in return.

It seems my Dulzura has forgotten she needs to be making it clear she’s not interested in my brother.

“Camila, your food is impeccable. You may never get rid of me,” Emma teases, and Mamà beams.

“You’re welcome here any time, bella. Anyone who appreciates my cooking can be part of our family.”

We clear our plates while Cici updates us on wedding planning, and Emma hangs on her every word, asking about every tiny detail from the colors to the flowers, and then begs to see her dress. Cici pulls up a picture and hands the phone to her, and Emma gushes about how perfect she looks in it.

I can tell Cici likes having another woman to talk about wedding prep with.

She and Mamà are close, but Cici’s only other female confidant is her college best friend.

Cici’s been on me and Mateo about getting married so she can have a sister.

She and Janessa never got along well, so I’m sure Cici is hopeful Emma will become a permanent part of our family.

I zone out of the conversation as a future with Emma flashes before my eyes. Emma in a white dress, walking towards me with a bouquet of flowers on our wedding day.

Emma and I going to work together, being able to kiss her and hold her hand openly whenever I want.

Emma, her belly round with our child. Or, if she doesn’t want kids, a dog, maybe. I don’t care.

All these thoughts should terrify me and send me running, but they don’t. They feel like goals to reach instead of fantasies to dream of. It solidifies the thoughts floating around about making her mine in more than the bedroom.

A zap of pain to my shin makes me turn to look at the little sprite next to me.

“Your mom was asking you a question,” Emma murmurs out of the side of her mouth.

Sure enough, I look up to find Mamà’s curious gaze on me, a sparkle of mischief in her brown eyes. I know that look. It’s the look she gets when she thinks she knows something she doesn’t fully understand.

I clear my throat, “ Lo siento, Mamà. I was distracted by the wonderful meal. What did you ask?”

She hums like she doesn’t fully believe me. “ Está bien, hijo mío. I was just asking if you are seeing anyone new?”

My eyes dart quickly to Emma, who appears relaxed save for the way her nails are drumming on her thigh again.

“I am,” I answer, and Emma’s head whips towards me.

“Oh, that is wonderful! How did you meet her? How long has it been? Is it serious?”

I should have said no. I don’t know why I said I am; this just causes more problems. “It’s new. Just in the last month. We met at a… club. It’s not serious. Not yet anyway.”

“You haven’t had a serious relationship since Janessa, so this girl must be special. What’s she like?” Cici asks.

“She’s… pure sunshine,” I say honestly. “She’s insanely gorgeous, easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But it’s not just about her looks. She knows how to connect with people on a level I’ve never been able to.

She knows how to make people smile and feel comfortable with her, even if they only just met.

She’s meticulous with her planning and asks insightful questions.

She thinks outside the box. She’s passionate about her job and is fiercely loyal to the people she cares about.

I’ve never met anyone like her.” A small smile pulls at my lips.

“Oh my God,” Cici whispers, hand over her heart. “You’re so gone for her! You never talked about Janessa like that.”

“This girl seems special, Beniamino. But you say things are not serious?” Papà asks.

“No. She’s a little skittish. I think she’s been hurt before and is worried about being hurt again, so I’m taking my time. Trying to win her over.”

Mateo clears his throat, so I look over at him. My eyes automatically dart to Emma, who’s gripping her fork so tightly I swear she’s going to bend the metal. She refuses to meet my gaze, and her cheeks are as red as a tomato.

“Is she worth all the effort?” Mateo asks.

I don’t hesitate to answer, “Absolutely.”