Chapter Twenty-Four

“WE SHOULD NOT BE GOING,” Ana muttered as they walked down the Jetway, a stop-and-go process as the plane loaded.

“I thought we’d been through this,” Bryan said. “We go. I meet your family and convince them that you’re not going to be an old shriveled spinster, and then we come home. Easy.”

Ana rolled her eyes at him. “Thanks for that image. I was talking about the business. I just dropped off all those samples and sent out the brochures. We need to be home in case we get prospective customers wanting to come by.”

“I’m the owner of the business and I’m not worried. So why are you stressing over it? Are you having second thoughts about me coming along?”

“No, I’m having second thoughts about me going. You’re the only reason I’m actually going through with it.” She twisted around and lifted her face for a kiss, and he willingly obliged.

A man in a suit cleared his throat behind them, and Ana broke away to see that the line was moving again. She pulled her roller case along, aware of Bryan following, and couldn’t resist a glance behind her. Partly because she really was grateful and partly because she just liked looking at him.

He’d made an effort for her family, she noted. In place of the usual jeans and T-shirt, he was wearing a nice pair of slacks and a button-down shirt, though the sleeves had gotten rolled back the second they got into the Uber. He’d offered to shave and get a haircut, which she’d talked him out of. She’d come to like the way his long hair felt when she ran her fingers through it, the tickle of whiskers against her face and neck. And maybe she also didn’t want Bryan to feel like he needed to change for her or her family. All in all, he looked like the perfect millennial businessman, which had made Bryan laugh until he choked when she said so.

“Just shoot me now,” he’d said.

“If the coffee roasting business fits . . .” she’d fired back, but he’d just kissed her and told her she could call him whatever she wanted.

That’s when she’d realized she was in love with him too.

She blew out her breath now at the recollection, trying to settle the jitter in her stomach. This was moving fast, at least the part that had to do with feelings. They’d spent almost all day every day together the past week, packaging samples and applying labels to bags, Bryan roasting while Ana worked on her laptop in the office. And he’d insisted on driving her to drop off the samples, partly because it was easier than finding parking at every one of the locations, and partly because neither of them particularly wanted to be out of the other’s sight.

“This is us.” He stopped at row twelve and tugged her back when she almost walked right by, lost in her own daydreams. He took her suitcase and hoisted it into the overhead bin, then followed with his own —he’d temporarily retired the green backpack for this trip, going with a respectable black Samsonite instead. “You want the aisle or the middle?”

She sent him a chiding look. “Really? You think I’m going to stick you in the middle? Your legs are twice as long as mine.”

“Which look very nice in those jeans, might I add.”

Suit Guy now sighed loudly. Bryan threw him a look. “Come on, man, give me a break. I’m dating the most fantastic woman in the world. Can you blame me?”

For a second, he looked like he might crack, but he just said, “Pick your seat and sit down already, will you?”

“After you,” Bryan said to Ana, waiting for her to slide into the row. Bryan smiled placidly at the impatient businessman and took his time settling into his seat.

Ana covered her mouth and laughed into Bryan’s shoulder. “You’re terrible.”

“The guy clearly has no sense of humor, and it’s not like the plane can leave without him.” He reached for the seat belt and buckled himself in.

“What if someone calls about the coffee?” she asked, picking up where they’d left off.

“I’ve got the office phone forwarded to my cell, and I have the ordering software installed on my laptop. I can do anything from California that I could do from here. Probably more, since I won’t be in the roasting room.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it with an amused glance. “You’d think you were the one who was hanging her entire existence on this venture.”

Ana sobered now. “I don’t want you to think I don’t have full confidence in you, because I do . . . but what would you do if this didn’t work?”

Bryan looked at her silently for a long moment. “I don’t know. I still have the farm to deal with, so I would work on the export part, but I don’t think that would actually make me a living, at least not considering Denver rent prices. Go back to Colombia and live on the farm?”

“You’re that opposed to an office job?”

“No, just too old with too few skills to get one. And before you say it, no, I wouldn’t go work for my father.”

The man seated in the window spot arrived, and they shuffled around to let him in, then reseated themselves.

“I don’t understand your relationship with your dad. It seems to be pretty friendly, if you’re living with them, and Alex gets along so well with him.”

“That’s because Alex is the son that he always wanted,” Bryan said flatly. “I never had a chance.”

Ana blinked. It wasn’t the first time he’d referred to how close Alex and Mitchell Shaw were, but it was the first time he’d let on that it bothered him. “You blame Alex?”

He whipped his head toward her. “No! Not at all. If Alex weren’t there, my dad and I still wouldn’t be close. It just makes it easier on him, thinking that his friendship with Alex is somehow benefiting me.”

Ana still stared, uncomprehending.

“Just imagine what it’s like when a self-made man with a driving need to leave a legacy for his son finds out that son has no interest in what he does and is, in fact, somewhat opposed to the whole concept of urban development?

“On one hand, I know he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s doing business ethically, at least as far as he’s concerned. He’s paying fair market value for the properties he buys. On the other hand, I’ve seen gentrification force out people who have lived in their homes for generations to make way for rich white software engineers. It’s a conflict I can’t get past in my own head. And before you remind me, I realize I’m benefiting from his success, which also makes me a hypocrite.”

Ana sighed and leaned her head back against her seat. “I’m beginning to think there’s no way around being a hypocrite unless you live in a cave.”

“You don’t have a hypocritical bone in your body.”

“Then I effectively have you fooled.” She threw him a smile so he’d think it was just banter, but inwardly, the words stung with barbs of truth.

The flight attendants shut the door and began their safety spiel, which Ana pretended to pay attention to, even though she was still thinking over what he’d said. Bryan could be extremely successful and wealthy if he would just get over his squeamishness and go into the family business. Instead, he’d followed his own path, first as a climber, then as a coffee farmer and roaster —two things he’d only gotten into because of his desire to help people.

Meanwhile Ana was making massive amounts of money helping people she neither liked nor believed in, simply because they paid her to do it. No wonder her parents thought there was something unsavory about her job.

And soon, she’d be back to work. Back to long hours spinning stories around people who probably did deserve their downfalls, back to living in her office and only coming home to work out or sleep. Back to a life that had no time for Bryan.

She glanced at him, but he was looking over the safety card, apparently taking the flight attendants’ instructions seriously. No, just because they wouldn’t be working together every day didn’t mean they couldn’t still have a relationship. They’d carve out whatever time they could manage together, even if it was just at the gym. If she could convince him to teach her to climb, that would even be something they could do together.

She lifted her thumbnail to her teeth, then dropped her hand before she could mess up her manicure.

Bryan didn’t miss the aborted gesture, capturing her hand again. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s all going to be okay.”

And for a short period of time, she actually believed it.

* * *

It was dark when Bryan and Ana’s plane touched down at Ontario International Airport. The “Inland Empire” spread out beneath them in a gleaming patchwork, neighborhoods and streets marked out in grids by the streetlights, the freeways like parallel ropes of white and red. He’d spent a fair amount of time in Southern California, given that Pakka Mountaineering was headquartered there, but from the air, it became clear that it was as far removed from Denver as from his small Colombian town.

They hadn’t checked any baggage, so they deplaned and went straight to the ground transportation area of the aging airport. “Are we renting a car or taking an Uber to your parents’?” he asked as they breached the airport’s air-conditioning for the still-warm, slightly moist night.

“Uber, but we’re not going to my parents’ house tonight.” Ana pulled out her phone and pulled up her ride-share app, requesting a ride from the airport to some location she apparently knew by heart. “I got us a hotel.” At his raised eyebrows, she amended, “I got us two rooms at the same hotel.”

“Is there a reason why we’re not staying with them? Not enough room?”

“Oh, there’s room. Everyone except my brother and youngest sister have moved out. But trust me, you’ll be much more comfortable at a hotel for the weekend.”

A niggling feeling of disquiet began. “Are you worried that they’re not going to like me?”

She laughed. “They’re going to love you. Don’t worry about that. They’re just a bit . . . much . . . even for me.” She flushed. “That sounds terrible.”

“It’s not terrible. You just don’t want two full days of their opinions on your life choices.” Bryan got it. He’d been afraid of the same thing when moving home, but in practice he barely saw his parents. They had their own lives; his dad had long work hours, his mom had her charity work, and both of them had their friends and acquaintances. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that his parents had a better social life than he did. Well, than he’d had. The time spent with Ana upped the quality of his own considerably.

“It’s your weekend, so we can do whatever you want. I just didn’t want you going to a lot of trouble for me. I’m used to camping for months straight with the clothes I have on my back. I don’t mind couch surfing at your parents’ house should the situation call for it.”

Ana’s expression lightened and she moved closer to him, slipping an arm around his waist. “Thank you. I’m just happy you’re here with me. This could be a long weekend otherwise.”

There it went, that degree of concern that seemed to go deeper than uncomfortable questions from her parents. What was she so worried about?

The Uber arrived, a lowered white late-model Civic with tinted windows and a ground effects kit that sprayed blue light beneath the chassis. Bryan exchanged a glance with Ana that clearly said, You’re kidding me, right? and then opened the back door for her.

Ana climbed in and introduced herself, but Bryan bent down to talk to the driver, who couldn’t be more than the minimum driver age of twenty-one. “Hey, man, can I put the luggage in your trunk?”

Wordlessly, the driver released the latch. I guess that’s a yes. He hoisted first Ana’s case then his own into the trunk and slid into the space that Ana had made for him in the back of the car.

Still without a word, the driver pulled away from the curb. Bryan studied him from the side, thinking maybe he didn’t speak English, but he seemed thoroughly American. Just not talkative apparently. Or maybe he was too busy listening to the throbbing techno music that poured from the speakers. Ana was watching their progress against the map on her app, however, and it seemed like the driver knew where he was going, so Bryan just sat back and watched the Southern California cityscape slide by outside his window.

Hard to see much of anything in the dark, but pockets of streetlights illuminated newer-looking strip malls and clusters of palm trees, not so unlike Denver’s suburbs. Well, minus the palm trees. Even knowing they were significantly inland, it made him think they were going to get a glimpse of the ocean at any minute.

The driver, still bobbing his head to the beat, silently merged onto a freeway, which was somehow still congested at this time of night. As time stretched, it became clear they were still a fair distance from the city in which Ana had grown up, freeway exit after exit passing without any sign that they’d ever get off. And then finally the driver exited and navigated streets that looked strikingly similar to Ontario’s to finally stop in front of a multistory business hotel.

“Thank you,” Ana said, immediately climbing out. This time the guy pulled their luggage out of the trunk, still without a word, climbed in, and drove off.

“So that was interesting,” Bryan said.

“Stuck in the nineties.” Ana smirked as she watched the blue glow of the Civic disappear down the street. “I know this place is kind of generic, but it’s close to my parents’ house. Close enough to walk if it’s not too hot, even.”

“It’s just fine.” He followed her into the hotel, where she went straight to the counter to check them in.

“I’ve got this, Ana,” he said, but she shook her head, that familiar stubborn look coming over her face.

“You’re doing me a favor; therefore, I pay. And you’re not going to convince me otherwise, so you might as well save us both some time.”

He held up his hands. “Yes, ma’am.”

The desk clerk looked between them with amusement, though she was trying hard to keep a straight face. “Ms. Sanchez, you are in room 302, and Mr. Shaw, you are in room 205.” She pushed their room keys across the desk. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thank you.” Ana took her suitcase and strode toward the elevators without having to look where they were.

“I take it you’ve been here before,” he said.

“I always stay here when I visit. I don’t like to be a bother to my parents. My mom feels like she has to cook for me and pick up after me anytime I’m staying in their house.”

“Isn’t that what moms do when their grown kids come home?”

Ana shot him an unreadable look and said nothing.

There was definitely something weird going on.

The elevator took no time to go up one floor to Bryan’s room, but he stuck his foot out to keep the doors open. “What time do you want me ready in the morning?”

“We don’t have to be there until eleven, so feel free to sleep in if you want.”

He was beginning to learn Ana’s cues; this clearly meant she had other plans in mind. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to a yoga class in the morning. There’s a 7 a.m. at the studio down the street.”

“Let me guess: that’s the other reason you stay here.”

Now amusement lit her eyes. “I can’t get out of the house early enough and without a full breakfast if I’m at home. And if I tell my mom I can’t work out on a full stomach, she’ll have tocino going on the stove at five.”

That didn’t sound so bad to him, but there was obviously a lot he didn’t understand about her family.

The door started to make a dinging noise, indicating its irritation that they were still blocking it from closing. “Okay. What time do you want to leave?”

Her eyebrows went up. “You’re going with me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, I didn’t think you did yoga. And this is hot vinyasa, too . . . it’s pretty demanding.”

He shrugged. “I’m game if you are. What time should I be ready?”

He could tell she still didn’t know what to do about his willingness. “I want to leave here by 6:25. It’ll take a few minutes to walk there and then we’ll have to fill out waivers and things.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you in the lobby at 6:25.” He leaned forward to give her a quick, chaste good-night kiss, then let the door slide closed. Just before she disappeared from view, he gave her a little wink and saw her answering smile.

Good. Let her think he didn’t know what he was in for.

She didn’t know everything about him. In fact, he’d venture to say she knew very little.