Out of Focus (Love in LA #3)

“How could I possibly be bored? I could stare at those abs and that wiener bun if I need something to do.” I look over to Ana Maria, whose smile stretches from ear to ear. She gives me a thumbs-up, and I send one back to her.

Rafael groans again. “Fuck, what have I gotten myself into with you two?” He points at me before picking up a knife and an orange. “I hate that you said that with a perfectly straight face, by the way. That’s bullshit.” He twists his neck to look at his grandmother. “And I’m not apologizing for swearing anymore. Cece isn’t here, and you have the filthiest mind and mouth of any of us.” His face is serious, but there’s no bite to his tone, and the juxtaposition mixed with the apron has a loud laugh bursting out of me. “Well, I suppose wearing the apron is worth it, if it gets me that.” He casually points toward me, watching me with gentle eyes.

My face relaxes into a smile, and the one on his face is brighter than the sun as he peels the orange in his hand deftly, his movements so fluid and natural. I suppose growing up next to orange groves would do that, though. But did he grow up here? Where did he grow up? What’s his middle name?

“Did you grow up here? What’s your middle name?” Damn it, here I go again.

His answering lopsided smirk morphs into a chuckle. “Yes, I did, and it’s Guilherme. What’s yours?”

It feels criminal to gloss over the name Guilherme because, bloody hell, that’s a sexy name.

Are names sexy?

Yes, when they are Rafael Guilherme Machado, the answer is definitely yes.

Focusing back on the conversation, I ask, “You really don’t know?” He frowns and shakes his head. “It’s Maeve. My middle name is Maeve.” I wait for the laughter and ridicule because it is ridiculous that my middle name is my twin’s first name. I know it is. We both hate that Mum did that to us.

His brows furrow for a moment, then he asks, “Is Maeve’s middle name Charlotte?” I pull my lips into a straight line and raise my eyebrows, indicating my yes. He smiles up at me. “That’s really cute. I can’t believe I didn’t know that.” He shakes his head lightly, a chuckle reverberating through him.

“You know what’s not cute? The way you’re peeling those oranges.” Ana Maria takes the fruit and knife out of his hands, shaking her head with no malice in her tone. “Help Charlie get the recipe started. I’ll do this.” She winks at him, and before he can turn away, I catch the immediate blush that rises on his cheeks. An actual blush. From a man named Rafael Guilherme Machado. How is he real?

Rafael takes his time washing his hands and then settles on the stool next to me. “This is a really simple recipe, so I’ll just measure everything as Vó goes along, and you can document it for us?” he asks. I shake my head, and he blanches. “No? Okay, yeah, that’s fine. Uh, how do you wanna—” He stops himself, his eyes locking intently on my lips. I focus on the feeling there, noticing my bottom lip is trapped between my teeth, and I am definitely smiling. “Uh… what… uh…” The way he stumbles over his words is adorable. I release my lip and let my smile loose, watching Rafael’s throat move as he swallows.

“You are such an anomaly, Machado.” His curious brown eyes meet mine for a moment before I look away. “Of course I’ll document it. It’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got plenty to do here, and I like you better over there where I can see those abs staring at me.” I wave him away with my hand and turn back to my laptop.

Before straightening, Rafael leans in, bringing his lips just behind my ear. “You ever wanna see the real thing; all you have to do is ask, shortcake.” See what I mean? He blushes, stumbles through his words, and then this.

He walks away with a smug smile, clapping his hands together when he’s next to his grandmother, who’s clearly pretending not to watch whatever the hell is going on here.

28/

you really know how to make traffic interesting.

charlie

I am unwell. And it’s from watching this man, who has been unabashedly taking up space in my mind and causing bodily reactions I did not realize were possible. He’s making me sweat. The kind of sweat you get when you have a fever, so it’s sticky and all over, and yet you feel like you can’t wipe it away, you know? Like it’s there, but it’s not really there, it just feels like it’s there. Just the ghost of sweat silently present and very much unwelcome.

I watched the adorable duo bake a cake that smells absolutely heavenly, all while they razzed one another, occasionally flicking orange peels when the other wasn’t looking. At one point, Rafael threw an orange slice in the air and caught it between his teeth and then winked at me. I swear this man was written by a woman. He doesn’t actually exist.

Now, we’re packing the cake up to take home—because they both insisted this was for me all along.

“We have a birthday celebration happening in a couple of weeks. It would be lovely if you could come, Charlie. The Machados can be a little over the top, but I promise we’re harmless. At least at first,” Ana Maria says, laughing at her own joke. It’s impossible not to join her. She is infectious in the most wonderful way.

“Oh, um?—”

“Vó, don’t pressure her. You don’t have to answer now, red. And you don’t have to come. But you would be more than welcome.” Rafael looks at me with an apology in his eyes.

“It’s really lovely of you to invite me.” When I see the wall of muscle next to me step closer, I raise a hand, knowing he’s likely going to tell me again that I don’t have to come. “My only hesitation is that my sister is about to have a baby, and I want to make sure she’s okay and doesn’t need anything. Is that all right?”

Warm hands close around one of mine. “You’re a good sister, Charlie. Of course that is all right. Just know you are welcome here anytime.” She squeezes my hand and turns to her grandson, pulling him into a hug that has him closing his eyes. “See you Sunday, moleque.” She pats his cheek in a borderline aggressive manner, and he smiles broadly at her.

As we walk out, I wonder how those hugs must feel. I also feel incredibly grateful that Ana Maria didn’t make me feel like I needed to hug her as well. And then my mind wanders to whether Rafael told her about me. Warned her about my sensitivities. I hope he didn’t, even if I would understand it if he did. I don’t like to be treated differently based on someone’s assumptions or whatever little knowledge they might have of me.

As we settle into the car, the cake safely stashed at my feet, Rafael exhales loudly while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about her. If she was too touchy or pushy. I didn’t get the chance to ask her to give you space or anything.”

“She was lovely. She is lovely. And I had a great time, so thanks for bringing me here.” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “I really would like to come and meet your family. I mean, I will most likely feel overwhelmed and overstimulated, but if they’re anything like you, Arthur, and your grandmother, I think it would be okay. I think I would be okay.” I shrug, keeping my eyes on the road because I’m not entirely convinced what I said is true, but I really want it to be.

“Well, you have time to decide what you want to do. No pressure, okay?” In my peripheral, I see his neck twist so he can look at me twice, but I keep my gaze locked ahead.