The Saints of the Cross by Michelle Figley Read Free Book Online Page B

brilliant, rhythmic flashes of dancing white light across the water’s surface, and I’m momentarily entranced by the ethereal beauty of it.
    “M-hmm,” Javier admonishes. “I said it was a secret. Don’t even try it.” I force my eyes away from the light show on the water and back to Javier, who’s exiting the car. He crosses over to my side and opens the door. “Now, I want you to cover your eyes with your hands.”
    “I won’t be able to see to walk, Javier,” I counter. “Last thing I need is a broken ankle.”
    Honestly, I hate surprises. I mean, there is so much expectation built into them for both the giver and the receiver. What if the receiver doesn’t like the surprise? The very definition of the word surprise indicates that it should be something incredible to warrant the giver making the effort to first conceal it, and to then reveal it at just the right time in order to evoke an extreme emotional response in the receiver. Turning something into a surprise could blow up in one’s face. So right then I decide, no matter what, to make myself like whatever it is he has for me, because I’m no actor. I’m as transparent as a plate glass window after a good scrubbing with Windex. Besides, I’ve liked every one of his surprises, the ring, and the trips . . . why should this one be any different?
    “Fine. I’ll carry you then,” he says, scooping me up into his arms. “Cover your eyes, Corazón.”
    “Javi, no! I’m too heavy for you to carry!” I protest, but squeal with laughter when he nuzzles his nose into my neck.
    “You’re joking, right?” He breathes into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I have to admit, I feel completely safe in his arms. “You have to trust me and close those blue eyes now. I won’t take no for an answer.”
    “Okay,” I say, reluctantly following his command. After I close my eyes, he plants an unexpected, lingering kiss on my mouth, pulling me up tighter to him. I am struck with the contentment of feeling complete, like I’m home in the arms of my soul mate. I want to burst out crying from happiness, but I choke back the rising sob in my throat. The last thing I want is to ruin our final night together in Spain with my admitted tendency toward the melodramatic. I just want tonight to be perfect.
    “Hold on tight,” he whispers, and I eagerly oblige. Being enveloped in his strong arms makes me realize how truly solid he is. I can tell he’s been working out and filling out over the last few weeks. Javier doesn’t strike me as someone who would hang out in a gym trying to buff up, but it’s obvious in the marked firmness of his body that he’s been doing just that. He’s been acting so out of character lately, that I mentally add this to the list of recently noted odd behaviors. I guess I still have a lot to learn about my soul mate.
    More than few minutes pass in which all I hear are the sounds of the ocean, sea gulls squawking, and Javier’s labored breathing. Finally, he lowers me down, warning me to keep my eyes closed. He releases me, and I hear his feet shuffling around, then a screeching sound, metal against metal, then some muffled laughter. Muffled laughter ! We’re not alone ? It’s all I can do to keep my eyes closed; I slap my hands over my face to force them into compliance. I stand there for what seems like an eternity, but in reality is probably only a few minutes.
    “Bueno, abre los ojos, Corazón,” Javier says with thinly veiled excitement in his voice. I hesitate, somewhat frightened by what I might find and what my reaction might be. “It’s okay, go ahead,” he adds with a musical laugh.
    I lower my hands first, keeping my eyes closed. I ease them open, and the first thing I see is Javier standing about twelve feet away next to a round table covered with a white tablecloth and place settings for two. His head is slightly bowed, and he’s looking up at me with that irresistible grin. He spreads his arms out, and his