But he’d spent enough time at Octavio’s house to understand the pull a person’s family could have on them. The compulsion to make them proud, to give them your best. To remain loyal.
It’s what Ben had found with baseball and his teammates. It’s what he missed.
“Well, I may not know your family, but in the time we’ve spent together, there’s definitely one thing I know about you.”
Julia slid sideways on the leather sofa cushion, angling to face him.
His arm slid off her shoulder, falling at her side to rest near her hip.
She stared up at him. A mix of doubt, sadness, and hope swam in the depths of her hazel eyes.
“You care about those around you,” he continued. “And you give one hundred percent to your commitments. I bet your parents would be proud of the work you’re doing here.”
She ducked her chin, giving a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. If they raised you, they’re good people.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“That means even if they don’t understand what you need to do for yourself right now, eventually they will. In the long run, I’m betting they only want you to be happy.”
A beat of silence passed, then she covered his hand with hers on the sofa cushion. The warmth of her palm matched the warmth in the sweet smile she gifted him with when she gazed up at him.
“Gracias,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For calming the crazy thoughts salsa dancing in my head.” Her gentle laugh held a note of self-deprecation.
“Anytime,” he answered, smiling back. “Though, you should know, I can also hold my own on the salsa dance floor. In case you were wondering.”
Julia threw back her head and laughed. The rich sound tugged at his desire for her, enticing and strong.
“I’ll have to verify that sometime,” she teased.
He sure hoped so.
Her cheeks brightened with laughter, the gloomy melancholy that had weighed her down moments ago dissipated.
Ben grinned back at her, pleased to have helped lighten her mood.
“Bueno, I guess we should head outside, huh?” Julia rose to stand next to the ottoman.
She surprised him once again by holding out her hand to him.
Not one to miss an opportunity, Ben placed his hand in hers. The smoothness of her palm pressed against his as she gently tightened her grasp.
When they reached the doorway, Ben drew to a halt.
Now or never. Once they returned to the group, who knew if he’d have a moment alone with her again.
“Before we go back to the party, I have a quick proposition for you,” he said.
Julia glanced up at him, curiosity arching one of her brows. “Oh really? And what might that be?”
The soft sound of the holiday tune “Blue Christmas” drifted down the hallway from the living room. An appropriate song for how he’d feel should she continue to keep him at an arm’s distance.
“I was thinking we could cross something off your bucket list this weekend. If you’re up for it.”
She angled her head in question, lips curved in a playful smirk as she gave him a narrow-eyed once-over. “That sounds more like a challenge if you ask me.”
“If it were, would that encourage you to say yes?”
Her smirk blossomed on a husky chuckle that called out to the loneliness he kept hidden.
“In my house, with my three competitive brothers, you never back away from a challenge. So, what are you throwing down?” she asked.
The way she jutted her chin with confidence, her other hand balled in a fist on her slender hip, had his pulse quickening.
“I’m thinking you, me, a private ice-skating session after the rink closes to the public. What do you say? Are you up for it?”
Chapter Seven
This was not a date. Merely a fun evening with a friend.
Julia repeated the words to herself as her driver steered his car through the darkened streets of downtown Chicago Sunday evening, headed toward Ben’s home in the Southport Corridor neighborhood near Wrigley Field.
The sounds of cars honking and snow crunching under the tires mixed with the voice of Michael Bublé crooning “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” over the radio. Outside her window, holiday decorations and lights flashed by, illuminating the car’s interior, casting shadows that matched the shadows of doubt she’d been battling all day.
Lilí had practically pushed her out the door with an exasperated, “¿Nena, estás loca? Why would you not go?”
Instead, Julia wondered if she was crazy for coming.
Huddled in the backseat with the rush of the car’s heated air warming her, thoughts of Christmases on the Island swarmed her. The fiestas with her familia and friends, the late night parrandas going from house to house singing and playing instruments. She missed the comfort of the coquís serenading her at night when she fell asleep with her window open. Like the Islanders themselves, the miniature tree frogs indigenous to Puerto Rico had survived the horrors of Hurricane María and the aftermath. Battered, but not beaten.
The strength to survive, something Mami and Papi had driven into her and her brothers, especially in those months after the storm, guided her now. It fed her determination to succeed here in Chicago.
Which is why she had no business allowing herself to be distracted by heart-flutter-inducing romance. With a ballplayer.
Ex-ballplayer, as Lilí had reminded her.
The driver turned down a quiet neighborhood street adorned with holiday flair. Lighted santas, reindeer, and nativity scenes glowed in the small, snow-covered front yards. Christmas trees brightened windows and colored lights outlined many of the homes.
They must be getting closer to Ben’s place. Julia’s shoulders shimmied with excited anticipation.
After making a left turn onto West Addison Street, the car slowed to a stop in front of a gorgeous, redbrick, two-story home with a dark, burnished metal fence that matched the window accents.
It was a large house, built to hold a growing family more so than a single guy
