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  Kahron released a heavy and expectant breath as his brother’s tall frame finally disappeared through the front door. He snatched up his BlackBerry and quickly dialed the number even as he climbed out of the SUV. “Hey, I need everyone to get over to Kade’s ASAP.”

  Kade was lost in memories he had pushed away and protected from his grief. As he drifted slowly through the house, each room shook some buried emotion from him. Each brought some seemingly insignificant moment in time to the forefront.

  He paused in each room as his life played out before him like a movie. Late nights in the den, cuddled with Reema on the couch, watching movies. Coming home late from work and sitting in the nursery to just hold Kadina as she slept. Waking up every morning to that poster-sized photo of them smiling on their wedding day.

  His emotions ran the gamut and left him shaky.

  In his bedroom, Kade sunk down at the foot of the bed and looked up at the photo as he locked his fingers between his knees. He felt spent. He felt weak. Drained. Depleted. Lost. Incomplete. But for the first time in years, he also felt hope, peace, and confidence that he was ready for the future. As one lone tear raced down his cheek, he stood and walked out of the house, knowing it was time to move on with life.

  Kade paused as he stepped out onto the porch. Surprise filled his handsome face, and he quickly wiped the moisture from high cheekbones. His deep-set eyes took in each compassion-filled face of his family as they stood at the base of the steps. His parents, Kael and Lisha Strong. Kaleb, Kaeden, Kaitlyn, and Kahron and Bianca. Somehow he wasn’t at all surprised to see them there. Not at all.

  “You okay, son?” Kael called out in that deep baritone voice of his as he hugged his wife close to his side.

  Kade nodded as he descended the few steps into their midst. “I’m good. In fact, I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.”

  Kaitlyn stepped forward and wrapped her arm around his waist. “What’s going on?” she asked, bumping her hip against his side.

  He lifted his hand to muss her short crop of dyed jet-black hair. “I’ve decided that Kadina and I are going to move back into the house,” he told them, playfully looking down at his palm for dye before he wiped his hand on his pants leg. The brothers all loved teasing their baby sister about dyeing the grey out of her hair.

  Kaitlyn just gave him a saucy eye roll.

  Even as his brothers all stepped forward to either hug him close or clap him soundly on the back, and his sister and sister-in-law kissed his cheek, he saw the immediate concern on his mother’s face. Kade moved through the small group and pulled her into a tight embrace.

  He smiled at the way her head barely reached his chest. “We’ll be fine, Ma,” he assured her as she squeezed him tightly.

  “Did we say or do something?” she asked, tilting her head back to look up at him. “You know how much I love having Kadina and you around the house.”

  “It’s just time. That’s all,” replied Kade. “That’s the only reason.”

  Her eyes searched his for a few moments before she hugged him one last time and nodded her head in understanding. Then she stepped back from him.

  Kaeden stepped forward to playfully punch Kade’s arm. “My big brother just wants to get back to normal, right?”

  Kade nodded. “Right,” he agreed. “Now I want to say . . . especially while you’re all here,” Kade continued, giving each of his brothers a long and meaningful stare. “I’m not ready for this to become a bachelor pad, with women coming in and out of here quicker than cars at a drive-thru window.”

  Each of the brothers nodded in understanding, and Kade hoped they truly did understand. His eyes took in that comfortable and loving way Bianca massaged his brother’s back, and he glanced away. He hated to admit to the jealousy he felt about their intimacy.

  “Well, who’s gonna help you with Kadina?” Lisha asked. “Getting her ready for school when you’re already up and at the ranch. Her hair. Her meals.”

  Bianca pulled a rubber band from the back pocket of her jeans and gathered her hair into a ponytail. “I agree, Kade. You’re going to need help. So much of your time is wrapped up in the ranch.”

  Kade held up his hand before his mother could even let the offer flow from her lips. “Thanks, Ma, but no thanks. Dad has just about retired, and it’s time you do the same. You two should buy that camper and travel, the way you always said you would.”

  “He can hire a nanny,” Kaeden offered.

  “Oh God, and wind up on the six o’clock news, with all the weirdos in the world today?” Lisha retorted.

  “Yes, make me have to catch a case, Kade,” Kaitlyn added.

  “I’m not saying go find any jackrabbit on the street,” Kaeden countered. “There are many reputable agencies that thoroughly screen their employees.”

  “Oh, like the Catholic Church?” Kaitlyn flung back.

  Kade released a heavy breath as nearly his entire family began a full-blown debate on the pros and cons of hiring a nanny. He loved his family. He cherished them, but . . . they could be overwhelming at times.

  He slid his hands into the pockets of his Dickies and shook his head a bit as he looked heavenward and licked his lips.

  “I have just the solution for you, brother-in-law,” said Bianca.

  Kade lowered his eyes and then looked into Bianca’s smiling face. “Give it to me, sister-in-law.”

  “Garcelle,” she said simply, with a subtle lift of her rounded shoulders.

  “Garcelle?” asked Kade.

  “Garcelle,” she said again, with finality.

  Kade squinted his eyes as he thought of Garcelle.

  Having worked the last year couple of years as Kahron and Bianca’s part-time cook and housekeeper, Garcelle Santos had already proven herself to be trustworthy and loyal. She was the daughter of Kahron’s foreman—someone else who had proven to be a valuable asset to his brother’s business. And although Kade had treated the woman with suspicion and some disdain during their first meeting, he had come to see just how very wrong he was.

  Kadina already loved Garcelle. Everyone did. She was more of a family friend than an employee. She was perfect for Kadina.

  Kade nodded. “Garcelle,” he stated, with equal finality.

  “Good,” Bianca agreed, with a wink, before turning and walking back to the rest of the family.

  Garcelle. Yes, she is just what I need, thought Kade.

  The seemingly innocent thought startled him. He shook his head as if to clear it. I mean she’s just what Kadina needs, he corrected himself before stepping forward to rejoin his family.

  2

  Today was the very first day Garcelle wasn’t worried about any of her usual daily grind: a full load of nursing classes, the part-time job as Kade and Bianca’s housekeeper and cook, and her involuntary job as the housekeeper and cook for her brood of male family members.

  Spring session was officially over, and with it, her first year at the University of South Carolina’s Salka-hatchie campus in Walterboro. She was studying to be a licensed practical nurse and had every intention of going back eventually to become a registered nurse. At twenty-six, she was starting to focus on a life with a career and not just a job. She was determined to put behind her her days of working at fast-food restaurants and gas stations. As much as she loved working for Kahron and Bianca, she knew, without a doubt, it wasn’t what she would be doing for the rest of her life.

  Without any summer classes, she was going to enjoy not having to worry about tests, books, or anything else college related. Instead, she wanted to find another part-time job so that she could save money for the fall session of school. Garcelle was on a one-woman mission to graduate without owing one red cent in school loans.

  But the job search could—and would—wait one day.

  Garcelle took one last leisurely stretch in the middle of her full-sized bed before she flung back the covers. Her bedroom was alive with her fiery spirit. Every bit of the room was in shades of vibrant red, whi
ch gave just the jolt of energy she needed to start her day. As much as she had decorated her small bedroom with care, Garcelle couldn’t wait until she was in her own apartment. Right now all her money went for school, and she just couldn’t afford rent, electricity, and a phone bill. She didn’t even have a cell phone.

  The three-bedroom, short, double-wide mobile home was not large enough for her large family, which consisted of her father; her two uncles; her younger brother, Paco; and herself. They were already using the den as a spare bedroom. If her older sister, Marisol, hadn’t married and moved to Texas with her husband, the house would really be cramped.

  “Soon,” she promised herself, knowing the move would be just as good for the rest of her family as it would be for her. As soon as she graduated, she was striking out alone.

  She rolled out of bed with more energy than she actually felt. As she pulled her hair up into a loose topknot, she left her bedroom and made her way to the bathroom for a quick brush of her teeth and wash of her face. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of the stewed chicken and mangu she’d made yesterday. The mashed plantain dish was a staple in her native Dominican Republic. It was as ordinary to Dominicans as mashed potatoes were to Americans.

  Dressed in the men’s boxers she had worn to bed and a worn and torn wifebeater T-shirt, Garcelle released a stream of fiery expletives as she walked down the short hall to the living room. “Pigs,” she exclaimed, doing a full spin in the center of the small room. Dirty dishes were on the coffee table. Dirty socks, with the bottoms almost as black as the soles of shoes, had been flung about like confetti. The television blared a rerun of one of those racy telenovelas on the Spanish network. The place looked like one big mess, and unfortunately, her name was written all over cleaning it up.

  All thoughts of lounging over breakfast and catching up on TiVoed episodes of Ugly Betty and Grey’s Anatomy were put aside . . . for now. She opened the front door but left the glass screen door closed as a South Carolina summer wind blew in against her thighs.

  She used the remote to turn the television channel to music videos, and then she snatched up each piece of discarded dirty clothing and slammed it into the laundry basket she now held against her hip. “Everything I Can’t Have” by Robin Thicke began to play, and Garcelle easily slipped into subtle dance movements as she moved about the living room. Her anger began to fade, and the infectious music, with its Latin beat, made her drop the basket to the floor and shake the topknot from her hair as she began to salsa, with a wicked smile on her full lips.

  “Whoo,” she screamed, flinging her head back as sweat dripped down the valley between her small breasts. She worked her hips and then kicked her leg high like she had an audience. Garcelle loved to dance, and dancing always made her feel . . . muy caliente.

  It was hard to deny that dancing was so much like making love. Sweaty bodies. Pounding hearts. Gyrating hips. Plus, she had those strong and thick thighs, which seemed to massage her intimate lips as she did the traditional Latin dances she favored. Once, when she was at Kahron and Bianca’s wedding reception, lost in the groove and sipping on margaritas, she almost danced herself to a climax. Although that night she didn’t know if it was just the dance or the sexy, silver-haired man who watched her as she danced for him. She felt her cheeks warm at the memory.

  Since months had passed since her last relationship, and there was nothing in her immediate future to sate any forbidden desires, she twirled her hips one last time. Give it up. Turn it loose, chica she told herself.

  Garcelle pulled her hair back into a topknot and pulled the clinging T-shirt from her pert breasts and suddenly hard nipples. She grabbed the basket of clothes to toss into the wash and then retraced her steps to gather up the dishes and load them in the dishwasher.

  Thankfully, the kitchen was in much better shape, since everyone loved to eat in front of the TV. In no time at all, she’d straightened it up, then grabbed a can of apple juice from the fridge.

  The laughter of playing children drifted in through the open kitchen window. She squinted her eyes against the sun as she watched them over the rim of the can. They were enjoying a game of kickball in the large field in the center of the trailer park. Usually at this time of the day, the trailer park was quiet. Then again, the kids were usually in school.

  “Life was so simple then,” she whispered into her can, thinking of her own childhood back in Santo Domingo.

  Back then the divide between the rich and the poor had not been so noticeable, but with every year she grew, things became clearer. She began to understand the lack of opportunities her parents spoke of. She began to desire the same things they wanted. Although she would miss the Caribbean, in her eyes, America became the prize.

  Her family had moved to America seven short years ago. It was the typical search for the American dream of getting a big slice of the pie. Of course, the reality was far less grandiose than their dreams of big houses and even bigger salaries, but her parents had made a good life for themselves in South Carolina. Her father’s experience working on farms back in Santo Domingo had helped land him the job on Kahron’s ranch. Soon her parents saved up some money and bought the mobile home—the first piece of property they’d ever owned. Her mother bore the son Garcelle’s father had always wanted . . . especially after two daughters. Life was good for them.

  Her mother’s death just two years later had seemed a mockery. Paco had only been a year old. Marisol had already met and married her husband, Juan, and was living in Texas. Garcelle had just graduated high school. Her father had just landed the job as Kahron’s foreman.

  Garcelle looked over her shoulder at the large portrait of her mother on the wall, over the small, round dining table. She felt comforted by her smiling face.

  Many people had balked when her father moved the portrait into the kitchen, but Garcelle understood that for Maria Santos, the kitchen had been the heart of the home. It was the perfect spot for her to continue watching over her family.

  “I miss you, Mother,” she said softly in Spanish. “We all miss you.”

  Deliberately brushing away the sadness, Garcelle tilted her head back as she swallowed down the last of the juice. She tossed the can into the trash as she left the kitchen and made her way back to her bedroom.

  Garcelle was at the small convenience store down the road from the trailer park, searching for canned pinto beans, when she felt that she was being stared at. She glanced to the right and then directed her gaze downward. One pair of huge brown eyes looked up at her from the mocha cherub face of a six- or seven-year-old.

  The little girl tugged at her heart. “Hola, ángel,” said Garcelle.

  “Are you Beyoncé?” the little one asked.

  Garcelle tossed her head back a bit and laughed. “No, I’m not Beyoncé,” she told her, with her heavy Spanish accent.

  “You look like her,” the little girl answered simply.

  “Really? I think I look more like Shakira, ángel,” she said softly.

  The little girl’s face scrunched up in obvious confusion. “Who?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she bit her bottom lip.

  “She’s a singer from Colombia,” Garcelle told her as she slid her hands into the tight back pockets of her jeans.

  “Ooh,” she said as if enlightened. “My cousin Cootie lives in Columbia.”

  It was Garcelle’s turn to scrunch up her face.

  “Kimani? Where are you?” a woman called out from the front of the small store.

  “That’s my mother. Bye, Beyoncé look-alike,” the little girl called over her shoulder before skipping away.

  “Adiós.” Garcelle just shook her head as she renewed her search for the pinto beans.

  “That man is too damn fine.”

  “Yes, girl. Lord, why you make him so fine?”

  “Girl, he makes the poom-poom go whoomp-whoomp.”

  Garcelle’s thick eyebrows arched a bit as she heard two women in the next aisle laugh like they were watching a com
edienne do stand-up. Their voices sounded familiar. Holtsville was a small town, and she didn’t doubt that she knew them.

  “And he all up in that big ole house, just begging a sistah to come take care of him.”

  “Well, you gone have to beat this sistah to the punch, ’cause I got the lips and the hips to get the job done.”

  Garcelle had to admit that they had her interest piqued. She was sure they sounded like Rita and Pita Kooley—a set of loud and rambunctious twins, who lived in the trailer next door to her family’s. Between the two of them, they had six children piled into a three-bedroom single-wide.

  “I’ve had my eye on that man since we were in high school.”

  “Hell, me, too. Matter of fact, I’ll take any one of them brothers.”

  “You got that right.”

  Garcelle moved down the aisle to get into the short line for the cashier. When she heard the voices come up behind her, she gave in to temptation and glanced back. Pita and Rita, just like she’d thought.

  Both were dressed in skintight leggings and tank tops that revealed their curvy frames. It was quite obvious they knew their assets and weren’t afraid to show them.

  “You know we ain’t the only ones with our eyes on him,” Pita said.

  “Him moving back to his house is a sign and a half that he’s ready to stop mourning and ready to start living, baby,” Rita added.

  Garcelle sat the can on the chipped and scratched wooden counter as she dug in her back pocket for her money.

  “Are y’all talkin’ ’bout Kade Strong?” Keisha, the cashier, asked. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed the shocking shade of royal blue.

  Garcelle’s heart slammed against her chest like a head-on collision. Kade. Visions of her crimson dress swirling around her like a parasol flashed before her, followed by an image of Kade moving closer to the dance floor to watch her, with the most intense eyes.