13. Diana

13

DIANA

I stand in the kitchen, my heart skipping with anticipation as I watch the clock tick closer to five. Lazaro's instruction to be ready echoes in my mind. I think I’m ready except I’m wearing my work dress. It’s not horribly ugly, but neither is it suitable for a night on the town.

To keep myself busy, I flit around the kitchen, wiping down already clean surfaces and reorganizing utensils that don't need organizing. I'm hyper-aware of the glances from my coworkers, their uncertainty about how to interact with me now palpable in the air.

"Anyone need help with anything?" I ask, forcing a bright smile onto my face. They shake their heads, averting their eyes.

I catch Anna watching me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. She approaches, lowering her voice. "Diana, are you… sure about this?"

"Absolutely. Really, there's nothing to worry about." I hope my smile assures her. I don’t fear Lazaro, and yet, I’m acutely aware that having a fling with my boss’s brother is not smart. But I’m nothing if not a person who lives the seize the day attitude toward life.

She doesn't look convinced but nods and returns to her work. I understand their concern, but I wish they could see Lazaro the way I do. He's not the monster they think he is.

The kitchen door swings open, and my breath catches as Lazaro steps in. As usual, his presence immediately fills the room, and my coworkers tense up.

I focus my attention on him, drinking in the sight of him in jeans and a fitted T-shirt that accentuates his muscular frame. I know my smile makes me look like a loon.

His lips twitch upward in response. “Ready to go?"

I glance down at my dress. "Am I dressed okay?”

Lazaro's eyes sweep over me, and the intensity of his gaze makes me flush. "You're dressed just right.”

Relieved, I grab my purse from the counter. As we turn to leave, Lazaro gives Anna a curt nod of acknowledgment, which she returns hesitantly.

I feel a twinge of guilt at leaving early, but Lazaro's hand on the small of my back as he guides me out of the kitchen sends a thrill through me that pushes all other thoughts aside. As we step out into the cool evening air, I wonder what he has planned for us.

Lazaro's arm snakes around my waist, pulling me close as he guides me through the front of the house. It's strange being on this side of the home. I'm used to slipping in and out through the side door, staying mostly invisible.

My mind flashes back to this morning, when I arrived with Lazaro through the front door. The memory of Lana's cold stare sends a shiver of concern through me. I'm certain she didn't like seeing me with her brother.

As we pass through the foyer, my eyes dart around, half-expecting to see Lana or one of the other family members. Lazaro must sense my unease because his grip tightens slightly, reassuring.

As we near the front door, I hear voices approaching from another room. My body tenses, but Lazaro keeps moving, unfazed. We step outside just as the voices grow louder, and I exhale in relief. We made it without any awkward encounters.

Even so, as we walk down the front steps, I feel out of place. This grand entrance, with its manicured yard and expensive cars in the driveway, is so different from the world I'm used to. What am I doing here on Lazaro's arm?

"You okay?" he asks.

I muster a smile. "Just… a little nervous, I guess. I'm not used to all this."

Lazaro's expression turns to confusion. "All of what?”

“This.” I gesture to the large house.

He laughs. “I’m not used to it either. Not long ago, I lived in an apartment smaller than yours and sustained myself on fast food and canned soup.”

Warmth spreads through me, as well as guilt for forgetting how strange his life must feel. “It’s like you fell through the Looking Glass.”

“I was thinking more the Twilight Zone , but yes.” He guides me toward my car. “At least you remember how you got here."

I stop. Did Lazaro just make a joke? About his own amnesia, no less? I can't help it, I burst out laughing. Lazaro's lips curl into a rare smile and he winks.

"Did you just wink at me?"

He shrugs, but there's a playful air about him now. "Maybe. Don't tell anyone, though. I have a reputation to maintain."

His joke and unexpected playfulness wash away my nerves. Suddenly, I don't feel so out of place anymore. I'm just Diana, and he's just Lazaro, and we're going out together.

“We need to take Lola,” Lazaro says as he opens the passenger side door and guides me to get in.

"Oh, you want to drive?" I ask, fumbling in my purse for the keys.

He nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "That's the plan. Unless you don't trust me with her?"

I smile at hearing him use my car's name. "I trust you. Just be gentle with her, okay? She's not as young as she used to be."

Lazaro's lips curl into a smirk, his eyes darkening as they meet mine. "Do you have any doubt that I can be gentle?"

His words send a shiver straight to my pussy as memories of his touch flash through my mind. “No."

I get into the car, and Lazaro walks around to the driver's side. As we pull out of the driveway, I wonder where we're headed. He surprises me by turning into the drive-through of a retro burger joint.

"Hope you weren’t expecting something fancy.” He glances at me, and I think I see nerves in his expression.

“I didn’t know what to expect. I like surprises.”

“Good, because nothing tastes better after a long day than a greasy burger, fries, and a thick milkshake. I used to love it after a day in the garage," he says.

"I completely agree, although I’ve never worked in a garage. Still, I understand the appeal of comfort food after a hard day's work.”

As we wait in the line of cars to order, Lazaro turns to me. "Have you ever worked on cars?"

“Clearly not.” I gesture to Lola. “Not unless you count the soda incident that nearly ruined poor Lola.”

He laughs as he pulls up to the intercom and orders our meal.

"So, burgers are your guilty pleasure?" I ask as he pulls in behind the cars approaching the serving window.

"Can't resist a good burger. What about you? Got any food weaknesses?"

"Pizza. It's my absolute weakness. I could eat it every day if I let myself."

Lazaro's eyes light up with interest. "Pizza, huh? I'll have to remember that.” He taps the scar on his temple with his index finger.

For a moment, I'm taken aback. Is he… making a joke about his amnesia again? I study his face, unsure how to react.

Then, to my surprise, he cracks a grin. In the span of a few minutes he’s made jokes, and laughed and smiled. It transforms his entire face, making him look more carefree. And handsome. And sexy as hell.

"Did you just make another joke about your memory loss?"

He shrugs, but the grin remains. "Might as well find some humor in it, right?"

I'm enjoying his somewhat morbid sense of humor, these little glimpses of lightness beneath his usually intense, serious demeanor.

"I think I like this side of you.”

“Better than this side?” He motions to his groin.

“Yes, well it goes without saying that I like that part. But this lighter side, I like it too. It feels like you’re happier.”

He shrugs. “To be honest, I'm not sure where it’s coming from." He pulls up to the window, paying for our food and handing the warm bags to me. Then we head back the way we came. I’m curious where we’re going, and my unease builds when he pulls back into the drive of the D’Amato home. He drives around toward the back, pulling Lola into a bay of the gargantuan garage.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

As we climb out of the car, he takes the food bags and a large blanket and walks over to me. "Thought I'd make good on my promise to show you how to take care of Lola."

My heart swells at the realization that he'd planned this all along.

“But we need to let Lola cool off for fifteen or twenty minutes, so we’ll eat and then take care of it.”

I’m grinning like a loon again. He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him lead me out of the garage and to the large garden area behind the house.

“I hope you’re not too cold,” he says as he lays out a blanket and then helps me sit down.

It’s nippier than I'm used to for October, but I don’t feel anything but warm with Lazaro.

“No.”

He sits next to me, leaning in and kissing me before handing me a burger. I can feel my heart tumbling over for this man. I can’t stop myself from hoping that this means something more than just two people who are physically attracted to each other.

The food is delicious, greasy, and satisfying, just as Lazaro promised.

“You know, for your car, you should change your oil every three thousand miles or so. Do you know when you last changed it?”

“Well, I don't think I've ever changed it.”

He laughs. “Good God, woman. It’s a wonder Lola can still go.”

I blush as I pop a fry into my mouth. “Did you learn auto repair while you lived in Indiana?”

His expression turns thoughtful as he glances toward the large garage. “No. It’s the only thing I didn’t forget.”

I study him, thinking how odd that is.

“Turns out I’ve always loved cars and working on them. My father liked cars too, apparently. Hence, the large garage, but Lana told me he added the mechanic area for me.”

I try to imagine a teenage Lazaro bent over the engine of a car. “The brain is an interesting thing.”

“No doubt.” He looks down, and I have a sense that he’s unsettled.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” Now I’m worried I’ve ruined this lovely dinner.

He shakes his head. “No. I just… what happens when or if I remember?”

I’m not sure what he’s asking.

“Is it bad that a part of me doesn’t want to remember?”

I think about how everyone is so timid around him. That can’t be a nice feeling when the people who work for you are afraid. It sounds like he doesn't want to be that man again.

“The unknown is scary,” I say.

“Yet, you go full on into the unknown each time you pack up and head to a new place.”

“It’s not the same. That’s an adventure. One I choose to go on. And yes, it can be scary too.”

He takes a bite of his burger, lost in thought. When he swallows, he asks, “What happens if I don’t remember?”

“I think you’ll be fine.”

He shrugs. “I want to fit in here, to be a part of my family, but… if I don’t remember, I don’t see how that happens and yet, I don’t know that I want to remember.”

I reach out and put my hand on his. “No matter what, your family loves you. You’ll find your way whether you remember or not.”

He smiles at me, but I can tell he isn’t sure I’m correct in my assessment. He crumples up his empty burger wrapper and wipes his hands on a napkin. "Ready to get your hands dirty?"

Feeling that he doesn't want to talk more about his situation, I smile and nod. We clean up and head back to the garage. I watch as Lazaro pulls together a variety of tools. He moves with a relaxed confidence that tells me this is his happy place.

“Okay. We're going to change your oil. First, we need to put the parking brake on.” He opens the car door and lifts up on the parking brake. “Then we need to chock the back wheels and jack up the front.” He hands me a triangular looking device and shows me how to put it up against the back tire. He takes a second one and sets it behind the other back tire.

Next he shows me how to use jack stands to raise up the front of the car. Next thing I know, I’m under the car with him showing me where the oil plug is. Soon, oil is draining into a pan and then the plug is back in place.

“We should change the filter too,” he says as he shows me how to remove and replace the oil filter.

Then we lower the car, and we’re over the engine as he refills the oil, being sure to show me the type of oil Lola needs. I feel like I need to take notes and make a shopping list.

“It doesn’t look hard, and yet, perhaps I should take her in… I don’t have all this stuff.”

“Sure you do. This is all yours.”

I look at him, wondering what he means.

“I picked it up for you. You'll have to get the oil and filter, but the other stuff is yours."

I smile, feeling a little silly that tears are forming. It’s not that I’ve never been given anything. But I haven’t been given anything for no reason or with such generosity. “That’s really sweet.”

He studies me like what I said doesn’t make sense. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been called sweet.”

“Is that another thing that can ruin your reputation?” I joke with him.

He nods. “I’m pretty sure if you told anyone else I was sweet, they’d send you to have your head examined.”

It occurs to me how sad we both are, a woman getting emotional over getting jacks and a drain pan and a man feeling unworthy of being called sweet.

“Thank you for this. After the soda incident, Lola needed a big repair and it used up most of my finances. I've been trying to build them back up, but…" I trail off, shrugging.

Lazaro's expression softens. “It’s hard to be an adventurer without transportation. Have you always wanted to travel?”

The answer is no. At least, the goal wasn’t to explore. The goal was to find my place. "After aging out of the foster system, I didn't really have anywhere to call home. So I just… started moving."

Lazaro lowers the hood of my car. “Do you have a set time you stay somewhere?”

A part of me thinks he’s mining me for information, like he wants to know if I’ll stick around. But I know that’s just wishful thinking, a desire to have finally found my place.

"I don’t have a set time. I stay in a place for a few months, maybe a year if I really like it. But eventually, I move on."

He nods, his jaw tight. “Be sure to clean as you go. And you’ll want to bring the old oil to an auto parts store that will dispose of it.”

I nod, noting the change of topic.

“Why don’t you turn on the car?” he asks.

I climb into the driver’s seat wondering if he’s bothered by my nomadic life. Should I tell him I’d be willing to stay if I had a reason to? No. Even if he wanted me to stay, he’s still finding his own way. I don’t want to add to that stress.

I turn on the engine, and it runs for a few moments before he tells me to turn it off. Then he explains that I should check the oil again as I might need to top it off once the new oil cycles through the engine.

“Sometimes, I think I’ll settle and make roots,” I blurt out.

“Why don’t you?”

I shrug. “I guess I haven’t found home yet.”

He studies me and for a moment, I think I see something in his eyes. But then he turns back to the car. “Lola is as good as new… or as good as she’ll get for a woman her age.”

I smile at his humor even if deep down, a part of me is sad. I know I’ll be moving on, and it makes my heart ache. "Thank you for teaching me all this. No one's ever taken the time before."

Lazaro's eyes soften as he looks at me. Without a word, he leans in and captures my lips in a kiss that makes my knees weak. I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he presses me against Lola's hood. Maybe this won’t last, but I’m going to savor it for as long as I can.

Lazaro's hands roam my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I lose myself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the way he makes me feel so cherished and desired. He grinds against me, his erection already full and hard. It makes my pussy burn with need.

As things start to intensify, a small part of my brain reminds me that we're in the family garage. Maybe not as risky as the kitchen, but still.

“Maybe you can come home with me," I murmur against his lips.

“Fuck that,” he groans. “We’re going up to my room.”