The Long Game (Long Game, #1)(54)

A teenager emerged around the corner of the stands carrying a plank of wood, distracting me from the thought.

“Oh yeah,” María said, while I gawked at the unexpected sight behind her. “Tony and Dad are working on the supply shed. Remember how we accidentally broke the door and made a mess? Come, I’ll introduce you, Miss Adalyn. They’ll like you, I promise.”

And before I knew what was happening, María was pulling me behind her all the way to where her brother and father were working.

When we reached them, María tugged at my hand and I blurted out a very loud “Hi.”

Tony, a teenage boy that was all legs and arms who had been in the process of placing the plank of wood I’d seen on his shoulder against a workbench, dropped the thing to the ground.

His father cursed.

María chuckled.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out.

“Tony has such sensitive ears,” María quipped.

Tony turned around. “How about you clip it, you little monster—” He spotted me, his face turning cherry red. He seemed to choke. “Oh. Hello, ma’am.”

“Ignore Tony,” María chirped. “He gets like that when girls are around.” The teenager’s eyes widened. “Hey, Dad? This is Miss Adalyn, remember I told you about her?”

The man was already walking around the workbench and taking off a pair of security gloves. “It’s hard to forget,” he said with a smile that immediately reminded me of his daughter. “You’re all she talks about.” He stretched out a hand. “I’m Robbie Vasquez, pleased to finally meet you.”

I took his hand and shook it. “It’s great to meet you, too, Mr. Vasquez.”

A lighthearted laughter rolled off his tongue. “Please, Robbie is all right.” He released my hand and slipped his gloves back on. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name everyone in town is chattering about. I would have loved to introduce myself during the goat happy hour but there was an emergency at the cow barn.”

María tugged at my hand, and I looked down at her. “Carmen hasn’t been eating. I think she’s sad because Sebastian went missing weeks ago.”

“Carmen the… cow?” I ventured. “And Sebastian the…”

“The rooster,” María offered. “Sebastian Stan, Miss Josie named him. It was my birthday present.”

“That would be them.” Robbie chuckled. “María likes for all the animals we have to be named. But Carmen’s stomach is all right now. Nothing to worry about.”

Tony approached us shyly before I could ask any further questions. His face was still red, and his eyes were cast down. “All the planks are out of the truck. Can I run to Josie’s for a minute?”

His dad clicked his tongue. “Fine,” he relented. And the teen didn’t waste time turning around. “But take your sister with you,” Robbie added, bringing the teenager to a stop. “And be back in five. Tops. We’ve got work to do.”

Tony shook his head, but he stretched an arm, sticking his hand out.

María shot running in her brother’s direction, latching on to the outstretched limb. “I’ll bring you a brownie, Miss Adalyn,” she called over her shoulder. “You, too, Dad!”

Robbie laughed, but called back, “Gracias, bichito.”

The Spanish words echoed in my mind. A part of me felt encouraged to exploit that connection. We had something in common, after all. A language. Maybe a culture, too. I’d know if I asked. That was what my mother would do. But I… I didn’t know how. My mind blanked in situations like these. What if the man talked to me in Spanish and discovered that mine wasn’t very good? What if he expected me to be something I wasn’t and then turned out to be disappointed? He seemed to like me just fine for now.

My gaze roamed around, desperately searching for something to say, and coming to a stop when I spotted a Miami Flames hoodie thrown over a toolbox.

“Are you a fan?” I asked, nodding at it.

“Tony is,” he admitted, a slow smile parting his face. “The boy’s crazy about soccer. Watches everything and anything he finds on TV, or his phone.” A shake of his head. “I’m not one for sports, honestly, but their mother was. He, uh…” His smile fell. “He took after her in that way. María does, too, I guess.”

Was. Their mother was.

I wracked my head again to say something appropriate and not bring this conversation to an awkward halt. “I work for the Miami Flames,” I rushed out. “I know Miami is not exactly around the corner, but I could get you tickets to a game. You guys could make a trip out of it. Miami will be a good break from the cold by the time the Flames make it to playoffs. If they ever do, that is. We’re not having the best season.”

The cheery, kind man fell strangely silent.

“I’m the head of communications of the team,” I felt the need to explain. “Well, I… was. I’m on a temporary leave—break. I’m on a break.” Robbie frowned and I shifted my feet. “That sounds like I was fired, but I wasn’t. I can get the three of you good tickets, I promise. My father is the owner. He, uh—” I swallowed, and God, I didn’t even know why I was rambling to this man. “Andrew Underwood. I’m his daughter. So, even if I’m technically on a break I’m still able to get tickets for, er, people. Yes.”