Page 35 of Her Hidden Smile

“I’ve been called worse.” I pulled onto the highway toward Nashville. “I’ll be at your house at five.”

“Six,” she countered.

“Okay, six.”

I was making headway.

Damn good headway.

“I’ve got to go. I’ve got calls to make,” she told me.

“Go rustle up some money, Hotshot.”

“That’s the plan.”

Chapter Eight

I’d opened the gate at five o’clock. Then I’d dithered on what to wear for forty-five minutes. Since Renzo had come over the last time, I’d foolishly bought some pretty clothes online. It was foolish, but now I was grateful. I had three pairs of slacks that I could wear, with four cute tops and two really nice sweaters. Plus, I’d purchased two form-fitting dresses that hit me mid-calf. I wouldn’t have been able to pull those off if I hadn’t had some curves. Not much, but some. Otherwise, they would have looked ridiculous since I’m so short.

Under everything, I wore padded shapewear that made sure to smooth out the dips and bumps of the burn scars. It was kind of cheating, but it wasn’t like anybody would ever see my hip and thigh. Nobody but Dr. Rose when I flew to Iowa City once a year. She assured me that the nerve connectivity was improving.

To hell with that noise. It had been ten years. I was Dr. Rose’s protégé. She wasn’t seeing me objectively anymore; she was wish-doctoring. But she was one of the two people I loved in this life and enjoyed their hugs. I would never stop my visits.

I heard the knock on the door when I was still dithering on which top to wear. My hair was pretty, and my toenails were painted. I pulled out the purple sweater that kind of matched my blue eyes and slipped it on. I looked in the mirror and grinned.

Boobs.

Not much. But some.

Hopefully, Renzo wouldn’t notice my limp this way.

He knocked again.

I rushed to the front door, checked the peephole to make sure it was him, then unlocked it and opened it halfway.

He was smiling. He was almost always smiling, unless I was in pain. Then he hadn’t been smiling. He held up a bottle of wine and a pink box. I didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t from Down Home or Pearl’s.

“Where’s that from?”

“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

I backed up and opened the door wider. He walked in. He was still careful not to get too close, and I sighed in relief. He had touched me the last time he was here, but he was careful with me tonight. I appreciated it. It was almost like he understood I needed to warm up to him all over again.

He walked over to the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining and living rooms, then set down the wine and mystery box.

“I smell something good.” He turned, the delight in his eyes was clear. It made me happy. “And I have to say, you look beautiful tonight. Usually, you look pretty as all get-out, but tonight, Cariña, you take my breath away.”

I could feel myself blushing. Gah, when would I be able to have him compliment me without looking like a Red Delicious apple?

“I made the chicken parmigiana and cheesy garlic bread with a Caesar salad. I put the dressing to the side, because I didn’t know how much you’d like on your salad.”

He tilted his head. “How do you get your groceries?”

“Roger’s grocery store delivers to me at least once a week, sometimes twice a week if I get a wild hair and really want to cook a lot. That’s usually when Little Grandma is coming for a visit.”

“So, you do have visitors. I wondered.”

“Just her. Well, and her daughter and granddaughter and great-granddaughters, but that’s because she doesn’t drive anymore. She’s kind of pi— upset about that.”