Nacho Figueras Presents (10 page)

N
oni woke early. She was still uncomfortable with the idea of being waited upon and was determined to avoid the staff on the boat if she could. She dressed in layers, expecting the morning haze and fog to burn off later. She wandered into the kitchen, took a few desperate moments to figure out the espresso machine, and then herded the dogs out for a quick walk on the beach, a foamy latte in hand.

The beach was glorious—all mist and wind and pearly sunrise—and, except for a few sandpipers bobbing around in the shallow water, she and the sisters had it to themselves. Noni unhooked their leashes and let them run ahead, and they quickly disappeared into the clouds of skittering fog.

Antonia trailed behind slowly, knowing that the dogs would come running back to her soon enough. She sipped her coffee and kept her eyes on the ground, looking for shells and stones and interesting effluvia that might have washed up the night before.

She had just pocketed a large piece of bright blue sea glass, the edges sanded to dull, rounded curves, when the girls circled back, nearly knocking her over in their exuberance. She laughed and then shook her head ruefully, seeing how dirty they had already managed to get—their long hair matted with sea foam and sand. It would take only a moment to hose them off before they set off for the barn. She turned back toward the boat and whistled to the dogs, and they followed obediently, with wide doggy smiles.

The staff was just arriving as they returned to the
Pilar
, and Noni awkwardly introduced herself before hosing down the dogs on the upper deck. The girls loved the water and snapped and bounced around in the sparkling, silver stream.

After, they shook themselves off before Antonia could get out of the way, and she got drenched in their spray, so she had to go back downstairs to change. On her way to her bedroom she ran into the chef—a woman maybe a few years older than Noni, with short dark red dreadlocks, café au lait skin, and warm brown eyes. Noni smiled apologetically as she dripped onto the kitchen floor.

“My dogs—” she began.

The chef laughed. “Say no more. I have an overweight Lab at home who wreaks daily havoc.”

“I'm Noni.” She stuck out her hand and then quickly withdrew it again when she saw how wet and sandy it was. “Oh, sorry. Ick. You don't want to shake that.”

The chef laughed again. “I'm Liz.” She looked at Antonia's wet clothes and shook her head. “Why don't you go change and I'll make you some breakfast? I have some strawberry muffins in the oven, but I can make you anything you like.”

Noni took an appreciative sniff and smelled the sweet, caramelized scent of brown sugar and cooking fruit. “Those smell amazing. Just a muffin would be great. Thank you.”

She slipped into her room and quickly changed—throwing her damp clothes in the hamper and pausing a second to think about how ironic it was that, if she had been home, she would have just left them in a puddle on her floor. Apparently having someone around to pick up after her finally made her want to pick up after herself. Next she slid into a pair of dry jeans and a black tank top. She traded out her damp tennis shoes for her riding boots. It was already warming up, so she left her jacket behind.

Liz handed Noni a warm muffin slathered in butter as she passed back through the kitchen. Noni stopped and took a bite, and her eyes practically rolled back in her head, it was so good. “Holy hell,” she breathed. “This is amazing.”

Liz smiled and waved her hands. “Thank you. The strawberries are so good right now. I'm trying to use them in everything. Now, do you have any requests for tonight's dinner?”

“Oh,” said Noni, feeling awkward again. “You don't have to do anything. I can just pick up some takeout, you know. Like, a pizza, or something.”

Liz shook her head. “I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I can make you a pizza better than anything you can buy on the island. Do you like clams?”

Noni must have looked mystified, because Liz laughed. “You've never had a white clam pizza before? It's amazing. If you eat shellfish, that's what I'll make, then. That and a simple green salad—the first microgreens are showing up at the farmers market these days. Are you okay with a balsamic shallot dressing? And how about strawberry granita for dessert?”

Antonia lifted her hands in surrender. “Sure. Absolutely. That all sounds amazing, but you really don't have to fuss over me like this. You know—this is my brothers' boat. I can just take care of myself.”

Liz's lips thinned into a frown. “This isn't me fussing. This is me doing my job. With almost the whole Del Campo family in England, I only have you and Pilar to cook for, and Pilar hardly uses me at all. If you turn me away, too, I'll just be cooking for my dog.”

Noni laughed and nodded. “Well, okay, then. I put myself into your obviously capable hands. Thank you. Oh, and thank you for last night's dinner. It was amazing, too. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

Liz shrugged. “Oh, you know, a couple years at the Culinary Institute of America. A few years in Italy. A few years in Morocco.”

Noni raised her eyebrows. “I am obviously totally outclassed. And immensely lucky to be eating at your table.”

Liz handed her a basket of the warm muffins, neatly wrapped in a clean, red-checked napkin. “Just in case you want more. Or want to share at the barn. And listen, I'm going to whip up some dog biscuits for your pups. There's no reason they should be eating that stuff out of a box.”

Noni smiled and suddenly felt a knot in her throat. She blinked rapidly, holding back tears.

“Noni?” said Liz, a quizzical look on her face. “You okay?”

Noni felt herself flush, embarrassed. “God,” she said, “yes. I'm fine.” She rubbed at her eyes furiously. “I'm so sorry. I don't know why I…” She shook her head helplessly. “I think the muffin was just so good, probably.”

Liz cocked her head and smiled doubtfully, and Noni took that as her cue to leave. “Anyway,” she said, struggling to get herself under control, “thank you for breakfast.”

She practically sprinted up the stairs, whistling for the dogs and heading for her truck, anxious to escape her embarrassment.

She loaded the girls into the back of her canopied truck and then slipped into the front seat, taking a few deep breaths and wiping away one last stray tear.

What in the hell was wrong with her? Liz's simple kindness toward her dogs, of all things, had reduced her to a gibbering idiot. Seriously, she had to get a grip. She'd cried more in the past two weeks than she had in the past two years combined.

She should know better. If she had learned one thing from her childhood, it was never to get too attached. And after Berlin, she certainly should have known this lesson by heart. Instead, she had let herself fall into a family she scarcely knew—trying to claim them as her own. Then she had forced things between her and Enzo, and now look where she was—crying over dog biscuits.

Noni loved her dogs, but it was rare that anyone else saw their appeal. They were eerie, slightly feral, and always in trouble. People tended to yell at them, swear when they were around, and shoo them out of places. Only Antonia and Enzo had ever actually seemed to like the sisters.

They were basically as weird and unlovable as…as Antonia sometimes felt herself to be.

She shook her head. This would not stand. She had to get a hold of herself.

“Plus now that nice chef thinks I'm totally bonkers,” she muttered as she threw her car into drive.

She reached into the basket next to her and grabbed another muffin as she drove.

T
he barn was quiet that morning. The Del Campos had left for London the night before, and the grooms were busy doing the morning feed before they started exercising the animals.

Enzo had spent the morning making a list of ponies who needed some special attention—young horses, green horses, a few that were recovering from various health issues. He liked to make sure that he personally dealt with the ponies that needed the most work.

He saddled up the first horse on the list—a bright red bay named Rosemary that had a wild streak which needed gentling. He was leading the pony through the barn when he saw Antonia a few stalls up, seriously sexy in skintight jeans, a black tank top, and black knee-high riding boots. She was grooming the little black mare Hex.

He paused to watch her as she led her pony out of the barn, wondering what she was up to. She was in early. Normally she didn't get here until after the morning exercise was over.

He stopped for a moment longer to put on his helmet and riding gloves and then followed Noni out.

Outside, the morning haze had burned off, and it was one of those perfect Hampton days. The sky was bright blue, with little wisps of white clouds floating around; the field was a vibrant spring green; there was a soft breeze; and the air was definitely warming up. More summer than spring, for sure, thought Enzo.

Noni was already at one end of the pitch, rolling Hex into a full gallop, a mallet in hand as she chased the little white ball across the grass.

Enzo caught his breath. He'd forgotten all her polo plans, forgotten that he had promised to help her train.

He wondered if she would still take his assistance if he offered.

Antonia raced forward, pulled back her mallet, and hit the ball with a mighty
thwack
. It spun up into the air—so high that Enzo had to squint to see where it had gone—and then came hurtling back down and hit the ground halfway down the pitch.

Enzo felt his mouth drop open. He had no idea that she could do that.

She came barreling down the field and curved under the pony's neck just long enough to take the ball up in her mallet, sending it ahead and then catching up in a few short strides, babying it down the pitch with constant tiny hits as she ran full speed alongside it. Until, with one sharp blow, she sent it sweeping through the goal.

She slowed the pony, leaned down to push the ball back out onto the field, and started all over again.

She was stunning on a horse. Natural and relaxed and joyous. She still had some rough edges here and there, but there was no doubt that she had her brothers' talents. Alejandro's doggedness combined with Sebastian's style. She caught the ball easily and sent it hurtling along, smiling to herself as she spurred the pony into an even faster gallop.

Rosemary snorted impatiently and nudged Enzo with her nose. He blinked and shook his head—he'd forgotten why he was even out here to begin with. He grabbed a mallet from the equipment shed, and then he swung up into the saddle and took the pony out onto the pitch.

Noni didn't notice them at first; she and Hex were at the other end, their backs to Rosemary and Enzo. But then she circled around, caught the ball, and sent it straight at Enzo.

“Oh shit!” she cried out as she saw him. “Watch out!”

He calmly backed up and hooked it—sending it right back at Noni.

“Hey!” she shouted, leaving the ball on the ground and cantering toward him. “You should have warned me you were on the pitch.”

“I didn't have a chance,” he said, smiling. “You were too quick.”

She shook her head. “You're lucky I didn't hit that one harder.”

“You're good,” he said as she reached his side. “You're really good.”

She waved him off. “I'm okay.” But he could tell from the sudden flush of pink to her cheeks that she was pleased.

“No,” he said, “you are way more than okay.”

She fought to hide her smile. “You want to play?” she said. “Just a little stick and ball?”

In answer, he spurred Rosemary out toward the goal.

“Come on!” she yelled. “Cheater!” and came galloping after him.

He sent the ball straight up the pitch and chased it down the line of the ball. Noni came galloping up next to him, taking the other side of the line. They had a ride-off—the horses running neck and neck down the length of the field, bumping against each other, trying to push each other over the line.

Hex was a made pony, much more experienced on the field, but Rosemary had a wild eagerness that gave the little black mare a run for her money.

Noni reached the ball first, hooking it with a back shot and sending it down the pitch in the other direction even as she continued to ride forward. Enzo started after it, but Noni and Hex stopped almost instantly, going from a full-out gallop to completely still before making a hairpin turn and racing after the ball as well.

Hex caught up with Rosemary, and Enzo and Noni reached the ball at almost the same moment. Each leaned out with the same intent to hook the other's mallet away, crashing their sticks together in a tangle. The sound of wood on wood startled Rosemary, and she reared up.

“Whoa!” shouted Enzo. He barely kept his seat before pulling her back down again.

“Are you okay?” said Noni.

He directed Rosemary away from them, making her go into a tight and controlled trot. “
Estoy bien
,” he said. “This girl needs work. Hang on.”

Enzo posted across the field, quietly speaking in Spanish to the nervous mare until he felt Rosemary soften beneath him. He slowed her down to a walk. He glanced up and caught Noni watching him, her dark eyes even darker than usual.

“You always know what to do,” she said softly.

He raised his eyebrows.

“With horses,” she clarified.

He shrugged. “They tell you what they need. It's just a matter of listening.”

Noni kept looking at him. He could see a flush of color creeping up her chest and neck.

He felt an answering rush of heat move through his body.

“We should take them back in,” said Noni breathily.

He nodded. “Lead the way,” he said.

She turned her pony and started back toward the barn. Watching Noni's tight little rear jounce in the saddle ahead of him made him dizzy with desire. He swore softly and kicked Rosemary into a trot and followed.

They tied the horses up in adjoining stalls, silently removing the tack and rubbing them down.

Noni had always loved watching Enzo work with the ponies. He was magical with the animals, never got angry or lost his patience, was able to intuit what they needed as if the horses spoke to him directly. She had deeply admired his skill, spent many an hour watching him as he trained and gentled—molding the ponies into equine stars on the pitch.

But watching him work Rosemary on the field today had been different. Noni hadn't been just casually appreciating Enzo's talent. No, she had sat there on her pony, silently going to delicious pieces as she watched him take control.

The way he leaned down to whisper calming words into Rosemary's ear, the way he showed no fear at all when the pony reared, just took her straight into a sharp and controlled little trot, the way he didn't seem to think of himself at all—just what the little red mare needed…It had driven Noni wild.

She shifted uncomfortably as she curried the pony, then ran a comb through Hex's glossy black mane, trying to calm her shaking hands. She was aflame. Agonizingly aware of Enzo in the stall next to hers. Unable to think of anything else but the aching need to be in his arms, under him, to feel every inch of his body against hers again…She leaned her forehead against the pony's neck and closed her eyes.

“Noni,” he said, and she whipped her head up, startled to find Enzo standing alone in front of the stall.

They locked eyes. She felt the breath leave her body.

He reached over and unhooked Hex, calmly attaching the lead and then taking the pony out of the stall as Antonia stood there, suspended by her need.

She listened to the clip-clop of Hex's hooves hitting the clay floor as Enzo led her away. Then, after a moment, the much lighter sound of his boots returning to her alone.

“
Vamonos, chica
,” he said. His voice was raspy and low.

She stood frozen, rooted to the spot.

“Come on, Noni.” His face was still. “We have unfinished business.”

She swallowed and nodded, following him out of the stall.

He led her into the office, locking the door behind them and pulling the shade over the glass door.

He would never be able to say whether she came to him or he to her, but in an instant, she was in his arms, her mouth on his, her hot little body writhing against him as she twined her arms around the back of his neck with a guttural moan.

He let himself get lost in her for a moment. Savoring her soft, warm lips, her sweet little tongue as it darted against his, the way her hands moved relentlessly over him. He gripped her around the waist, fitting her body closer to his, breathing in her spicy scent, deliriously pleased to have her back in his arms.

“Enzo,” she breathed, “we should talk.”

He shook his head. “Later,” he said, and pushed her up against the wall, crushing his mouth to hers, needing more.

She caught her hands in his hair and moaned, hooking one leg behind his knee and rubbing herself against him. He reached under her thighs and picked her up, allowing her to wrap both legs around him. He broke the kiss and trailed his mouth down her neck, over her almost bare shoulder, catching the strap of her tank top and pulling it down with his teeth, exposing the top of her breast.

She hissed in pleasure as he palmed the creamy mound, bringing it to his mouth as he hooked her shirt with the tip of his finger, tugging it farther down, freeing her sweet pink nipple.

“Ah,
mi corazón
,” he moaned. “
Tan bella
.”

Someone rattled the doorknob and then a sharp knock sounded at the door.

They leaped apart with a gasp.

“
¡Momentito!
” exclaimed Enzo.

“Enzo? Why is this door locked?”

It was Pilar.

“Enzo?”

Noni groaned softly in dismay, desperately straightening her clothes. Enzo adjusted his jeans and smoothed his shirt. He shot Noni a questioning look and she widened her eyes unhappily but gave him a nod in response. He opened the door.

“
¿Qué está pasando?
” said Pilar as she bustled in. “Why—”

She stopped short, staring at Noni, a frown on her face.

There wasn't much use trying to hide anything, thought Enzo. Antonia's cheeks were bright red, her hair was a mess, and he could see the marks he had left on her throat and chest.

Still, she looked so mortified that he had to try.

“Ah, Pilar.
Buenos días
. Noni and I were just having a meeting about—er—”

Pilar rolled her eyes. “
Dios mio
, don't bother,” she snapped. “You have always been the worst liar in the world. Actually”—she snapped her head in Noni's direction—“it's her I need to talk to.” She looked wryly at Antonia. “There are people at my house. They say they know you.”

Pilar stalked ahead, her big yellow dogs flanking her on either side as Enzo and Noni trailed behind her.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Enzo asked.

Antonia shook her head, looking mystified. “Maybe a delivery? I don't know why they'd come to the house and not the barn, though.”

They rounded the corner of the house and saw a red Mazda Miata convertible parked in the driveway. Noni suddenly stopped and clutched Enzo's arm.

He turned to her. She had gone chalk white.

It was Noni's mother, dressed in a short sapphire blue tunic and high-heeled sandals; Jacob Van Dyke, wearing a fitted black dress shirt and dark jeans to match; and, between them, a little boy—maybe six or seven, judging from his size—with wild red curls and black-rimmed glasses.

The boy looked up at them with wide brown eyes. Noni's hand bit into Enzo's arm so hard that he flinched in pain.

Enzo watched Jacob Van Dyke give the little kid a nudge forward.

“Mama?” said the little boy, looking at Antonia. He tumbled forward and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Noni's waist, burying his face against her. “Mama!”