Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

I spend the next twenty minutes impersonating a student while Cami attempts to read me a book in Spanish. She trips over the words, and I do my best to help her out, with Lana interjecting every now and then on words I mispronounce.

My neck and spine prickle every now and then. When I look around, I find Lana quickly busying herself with something in the kitchen.

What’s going on?

“All right, Camila. Time for dinner.” Lana tugs her apron over her head.

The smells coming from the oven make me wish she extended me the same invitation, although I know that won’t happen.

Cami latches on to my hand and tugs. “Vamos a comer.”

Lana doesn’t say anything, but the silence between us doesn’t bode well. As good as a home-cooked Colombian meal sounds right now, I’m not about to give Lana another reason to be annoyed with me.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I have plans.”

“Like what?” The kid lacks any personal boundaries or social skills.

She is five. Give her a break.

“I’m going to eat at the diner.”

Her face scrunches in the same way Lana’s does. “Booooo.”

Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any lower, I get heckled by a five-year-old.

Great.

Lana walks up to Cami and gives her shoulders a squeeze. “Maybe next time.”

“Right.”

“But my mommy’s the bestest cook in the whole wide world.” Her beaming smile is a force to be reckoned with. I doubt I would stand much of a chance at telling her no if it weren’t for Lana glaring a hole into the side of my face as I address her child.

“I know. She learned from the second bestest cook in the whole wide world—her mom.”

Cami gasps, and I instantly know I said the wrong thing.

“You had Abuela’s food? When?” Cami looks up at me with wide eyes.

I glance toward Lana for approval before I say something I shouldn’t. She gives me a small nod, and I let out a breath of relief.

“She worked here while I visited in the summers growing up and cooked the best food I’ve ever had. After your mom, that is”

Cami’s eyes look about ready to pop out of her head from how hard she is straining them. “Really?”

Lana looks away, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Yup.”

Cami’s grin widens even more. “Did you like her?”

“It was impossible not to. Every person who met her loved her.” I mean every word. Señora Castillo had this energy about her that made everyone want to stick around. She loved to cook, clean, and tell stories while doing both, which was a welcomed change compared to the nannies I spent time around growing up.

It’s one of the reasons I loved visiting for the summers, although my brothers didn’t share the same feelings.

“Do you miss her?”

Cami’s question makes my chest pinch with uncomfortable tightness.

“Yes, I do. I wish I could have said goodbye.”

Lana’s hands grasping on to Cami’s shoulders tighten.

“Where were you?” Cami’s brows pull together.

Lana shakes her head. “Por favor, no más preguntas. Me has hecho suficiente por hoy.”

“But—”

“Why don’t you go set the table while I talk to Cal?”

“Okay!” Cami barrels toward the small kitchen table we pushed into a corner to allow for more space for all the toys.

“If you want to have dinner with us, you can.” She brushes some flour off her apron.

“I don’t want to impose.” You’re such a rotten liar.

My stomach betrays me as it growls loud enough for Lana to hear it. She cracks a small smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen directed toward me in days, and I soak it up like a plant deprived of sunshine.

“Just go take a seat at the table while I get the arepas.”

“Arepas?”

“Y chorizo.”

My mouth waters. “Chorizo? Do you need any help?”

“I’ve been cooking food for years without any help, so I think I can manage just fine on my own, but thanks.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to make a man feel useful every now and then.”

She bats her lashes. “Would you like me to find a lightbulb that needs changing?”

I give her a little shove on the shoulder, and she curls over laughing. The sound feels as if I just injected pure serotonin into my veins.

The timer on the oven beeps, stealing Lana and that rush of happiness with her.

I take a seat next to Cami and give her my attention while ignoring the pull I have toward the woman working around the kitchen.

Lana places my plate in front of me. Before she has a chance to move back, I clasp on to her hand and give it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’m so happy you invited me.”

Lana’s cheeks, already pink from exertion, turn red. “You’re welcome.”

I brush my thumb over her skin. “I missed your food.” I missed a hell of a lot more than her food, but it feels like a safe way to express myself. She squeezes my hand back in silent acknowledgment before I release her.

While Lana grabs a juice box from the fridge, Cami leans over the table to whisper in my ear.