I'll Be Your Somebody Read online

  “Thinks she’s so clever,” Ulrich groused.

  “I am clever,” Rosita insisted and beamed. “Don’t hate!”

  Ulrich’s expression cleared and he arched an eyebrow. “Who said I did? I like you, Rosita.”

  “Humph.”

  “You know very well how much I like you.”

  Suddenly there was a loud, hacking cough, and both looked up to see Tim rubbing Bevin’s back and speaking in low tones to her. Rosita narrowed her eyes, knowing Bevin wasn’t really in distress. Sometimes the woman could be a subtle as Fat Albert at a buffet.

  “Ma! Ma!” Kerry called, and Ulrich handed the baby to Bevin. Rosita stood and went into the kitchen, her body rippling as she sensed Ulrich following her. Once they were out of sight, Ulrich spun her around and pressed her against the wall, dropping his face into her shoulder.

  “I miss your scent,” he whispered.

  Rosita prayed her moan wasn’t audible; but upon his chuckle, she knew she’d been heard. Deciding not to fight it anymore, she let her arms come around him and his mouth travel up her neck and across her cheek to settle against hers.

  “I miss you,” he said just as quietly.

  Rosita squeezed her eyes shut, horrified by the tears that had made a surprise guest appearance. They hadn’t seen each other since…

  Rosita shook her head and hugged him fully. This was the first proper greeting she’d given him all trip. When he’d come to the house, he’d just given her a quick kiss and hug—nothing like the welcome he’d wanted to give and nothing like the welcome she’d wanted to receive.

  “You’re shaking, baby,” Ulrich murmured as he squeezed her. “What’s wrong?”

  Rosita shook her head. “Nada.”

  “Me dices mentiras, Rosita, chica,” he chastised in her other native tongue. “Whatever we are or have been, liars are not one of them.”

  She pulled back to gaze at him. He gave her a small smile and Rosita palmed his face with both of her hands. If she were what the stick said, she held the face of the father of her child. That rocked her, especially because she’d always made sure to be careful with her partners. She was like clockwork with her birth control, and never had any fun without a raincoat.

  Until Ulrich, that was.

  Suddenly, the trepidation she’d felt not even an hour earlier was conspicuously absent. Looking into his eyes, she saw nothing but honor and integrity. Why in the world had she been running so hard for so long, only stopping because the passion and need would be on the brink of explosion? He’d been biding his time, patient, letting her come to him…never the other way around.

  “What I do to you?” she asked quietly, needing the answer. She had to know, needed to know before telling him she was also about to, potentially, make him a father.

  Never taking his eyes from hers, he plucked one of her hands from his cheek and kissed the knuckles of it. “Make me better,” he whispered against her skin.

  And he made her accountable, vulnerable, all the things she didn’t like feeling. She’d gotten caught up once…she’d promised herself to never get caught again.

  But she didn’t want him to let her go.

  “Rosa,” he said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

  She abruptly pulled out of his arms and began to pace the kitchen, hugging herself. Should she tell him, even if there weren’t official medical confirmation, about their possible impending parenthood? She knew Bevin would want her to, but Rosita was unsure.

  So deep in thought, Rosita jumped and almost broke the skin of the thumb she’d been gnawing on when she felt large, sturdy hands grasp her shoulders.

  “You’re scaring me, baby.”

  Rosita leaned against Ulrich, nay, snuggled into him, and sighed. “Lo siento.”

  “I can’t help if I don’t know what to do,” he told her, moving his hands to wrap his arms around her trim waist.

  “But I don’t know what to do, either,” Rosita whispered.

  He kissed the space where her neck met her shoulder. “Is it bad?”

  She shrugged. “Es posible que no sea bueno.”

  “Hmm, why don’t you tell me so we can determine if it’s bad or not?” he suggested, holding her tighter and letting his nose drift along her cheek. The fact he was being this open with his affection while knowing either Bevin or Tim could walk in here at any moment astounded her. While their friends knew they had a “friends-with-benefits” situation, Rosita didn’t think Ulrich was holding her the way he’d hold a booty call.

  She looked down at their hands on her belly, their fingers tangled together. Her slim, cinnamon fingers were protected by his thick, bronzed ones, and she squeezed them.

  “Ulrich…”

  Twin chirping sounds prevented her from saying anything else. Rosita’s heart cracked when she heard Bevin murmur “No!” sadly. Keeping one arm around her, Ulrich pulled the beeper from his belt buckle and checked it.

  “Shit.”

  Rosita clutched at his fingers, pressing their hands closer to her abdomen, to the place where their potential baby would rest.

  “We’re being called, Rosa.”

  Panic lanced through her. She wondered how the hell Bevin did this on the regular. What did she say? What could she say? She couldn’t tell him about this possible pregnancy now, at the very least not when she wasn’t sure herself. Why make him worry about a maybe? She’d tell him when he returned if there was something to tell.

  And he would return…

  She faced him and looked into his black eyes, placing her hands right above his heart. “Ten cuidado, chico.”

  He quirked his lips and nodded. “Sí, Rosita, chica.”

  A loud wail blared into the kitchen, and Tim’s deep voice began rumbling. Rosita and Ulrich went back to the living area where they saw Tim cooing and bouncing a sobbing Kerry, his duffel bag by his feet. Bevin was standing off to the side and looking at the floor, her arms tight around her.

  “Da! Da!” Kerry cried, rubbing his face against his father’s neck.

  Rosita saw Tim’s jaw clench as he held his baby gently to him, his green eyes closed. “Daddy has to work, okay?”

  “No!” Kerry refused, burrowing closer.

  There was a loud sniffle and Bevin wiped her face before going to Tim. “Come on, Kerry, Papa’s gotta go.”

  “DaDa!” Kerry cried again, shaking his head and kicking his legs in denial.

  Tim opened up his arms and brought Bevin close to him, whispering intelligibly to his wife as he held her and his son to his heart. Rosita felt Ulrich press against her, tangling their fingers together.

  “I get jealous of him,” Ulrich said quietly in her ear.

  “Why?”

  “He has someone to say goodbye to,” Ulrich said, shrugging. “I shouldn’t be, you know? Yeah, I call my parents, but…for years, Tim didn’t have anyone he could call. But I see him now with Bevin and his son, and I wish I had someone like that.”

  Rosita turned to him. He still gazed at the family having their moment, wistfulness emblazoned on his face. She stood directly in front of him and his black eyes moved to her.

  “I can be that for you today,” she offered. “Si tú quieres.”

  He said nothing for a long while, so long Rosita’s cheeks burned and she started to retract her proposal, until his large, dark-bronzed hand smoothed over the inky curls of her head to cup her cheek.

  “Pray for me?” he asked quietly.

  “Sí, siempre,” she responded, not even bothering to hide the tears in her eyes.

  He smiled a little, touching his thumb to her cheek, and kissed her forehead. “Gracias, mi hermosa chica Rosita.”

  “Regrese a mi, Ulrich,” she commanded on a whisper, clutching his shirt. “Por favor…”

  “I’ll do my best,” he replied sincerely, and Rosita knew that was the only vow he could keep. They hugged each other for a long moment before Ulrich pulled away to drop a chaste, yet meaningful kiss to her lips. He then moved to hug Bevin a
nd his godson while Tim came to her. He grinned, his tall frame enveloping her, and she snuggled into his form.

  “Take care of her,” Tim said.

  “Of course, you know me,” Rosita returned.

  “Yes, and I know her…” Tim pulled back and gave her a serious look. “She won’t tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  His eyes shifted down the hall and back to her. “I know.”

  Rosita frowned. “You know what?”

  Tim pursed her lips. “She’s pregnant.”

  She sucked in a harsh breath and her eyes widened. “What?”

  “I saw the stick, Rosita. Why won’t she tell me? She thinks I can’t handle it?”

  “Tim—”

  “If I didn’t have to go right now I’d challenge her on it,” Tim said with a slight huff. “I had to go off once without her telling me, and now I’m going again. She can’t keep doing things like that,” he said seriously.

  Rosita licked her lips and tried to keep the anxiousness from her eyes. “She probably doesn’t want to tell you until she’s absolutely sure.” Tim rolled his eyes and Rosita slapped him lightly on the chest. “Seriously! Those things aren’t one hundred percent.”

  His irritation lessened. “But she’d tell me if she were, right?”

  Rosita showed a little smile. “I think so. The last time, y’all were newlyweds. This time, you already have Kerry; why not another?”

  He smiled as well, kissing Rosita’s cheek. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  It was things like this that let Rosita know just why this man held her best friend’s heart. For all his strength and power, the gentleness and gratitude Tim could show displayed his humility and honor.

  The same way Ulrich could.

  “Come on, man, Uncle Sam is an impatient bastid!” Ulrich teased, injecting levity in a grave situation.

  Everyone chuckled. Tim tweaked Rosita’s chin playfully and winked as he backed away. He gave his wife and son one last lingering look, mouthing, “I love you,” which Bevin returned. Kerry waved forlornly at his father and Tim blew him a kiss. Rosita put her hands on her abdomen, feeling the flutters of this poignant goodbye.

  She met Ulrich’s eyes and didn’t break the contact until he closed the door behind Tim.

  At that moment, she prayed her child had eyes like her daddy.

  One Afternoon

  “¡Rosita, chica, tú necesite que decirle a Ulrich que tú esté embarazada!”

  Rosita scowled at the cake she was pulling out the oven, muttering under her breath. Of all the times for her mother to come down to Charleston and bother a body! Didn’t the woman understand she couldn’t tell Ulrich anything because she didn’t know where the hell he was? And even if she did, this wasn’t something you told a man over the phone or in an e-mail—especially a man with whom your relationship was undefined! Ulrich wasn’t her husband—he wasn’t even her boyfriend! The most she could do was take care of herself and the baby she carried until Ulrich returned.

  And he would…he promised he’d do his best.

  “Rosita!”

  “¡Sí, Mama, sí, yo sé!” Rosita insisted, putting the pan on a wire rack and pulling off the oven mitts. Her mother’s sable hand closed around hers and Rosita let her head drop slightly. The older woman kissed her cheek and Rosita smiled.

  “My baby’s to be a mother,” Milagros murmured in English, patting her daughter’s hand. “¡Que bueno!”

  “Even though I’m not married?” Rosita asked quietly.

  Milagros moved her hand to smooth down her daughter’s head. “Only a matter of time.”

  Rosita gave her mother a weird look. “No entiendo…”

  Milagros took her hand and led her to the kitchen table where they sat, the hands still joined on the tabletop. “You want to know why your father and I aren’t disappointed.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there’s no point in getting upset,” Milagros said. “What’s done is done; but…your father and I weren’t under any delusions, either. We both know you and Robbie are…em…active, we’ll say. But I taught you well. Beverly and I taught you very well.”

  Rosita grinned. Her mother and Mama Bevie had given her a birds and bees discussion she’d never forget!

  “And then after what happened before…this was different.” Milagros shrugged and smiled slightly. “Lo siente mas diferente, mija.”

  Rosita nodded. “It is.”

  Milagros smiled. “Yo sé. Ulrich is a good and honorable man. Any friend of Tim’s has to be, no?”

  Rosita nodded. When she’d told her parents she was pregnant, they hadn’t even asked who the father was. They’d known, which had surprised the hell out of her.

  “You always knew where the other was,” her father Juan had said softly. “That’s why we knew.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rosita had asked.

  “Tim and Bevin’s wedding,” her mother had replied. “You always knew where the other was.”

  Rosita had tried to play it off, saying they were the maid of honor and the best man, but her parents weren’t idiots and they hadn’t raised their children to be idiots, either. But being an idiot wasn’t necessarily the same as being a coward; for all of her “take-no-shit” attitude, Ulrich had scared the piss out of her. And unless she was on a toilet, Rosita liked her piss in her kidneys where it belonged. But his black eyes…his sturdy body…his dark-honey skin…his…goodness…all that fine-ness was too much to handle even for her. She was used to men eating out her hand as if they were ducks and she had a handful of bread crumbs.

  But Ulrich didn’t want crumbs, at least not in the long run; and while he’d played the part of a pinch hitter, he was a direct-shot-over-centerfield guy.

  And, turned out, she was the same type of woman.

  Then again, how could she not be? She was Milagros Velez’s daughter…

  “This is why you should tell him, mija; not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s the only thing to do. A man like that would want to know, ¿verdad?”

  Rosita nodded.

  “Yes, so,” Milagros paused and stood, going back to where the cake was cooling. “He’ll be here shortly—”

  “What?!”

  Milagros beamed at her daughter. “I called him and told him to come. He should be here soon.”

  Rosita clenched her jaw, glad she hadn’t been standing or else she’d be sprawled on the floor from shock. She wanted to cuss someone out, but she wasn’t stupid enough to turn her ire onto her mother. She wondered how in the blue hell Milagros had gotten her hands on his number—

  She was going to kill Robbie!

  “I see the bloodshed in your eyes, mija. Don’t kill your brother,” Milagros commanded.

  Damn. There was no way she could ignore a direct order like that. She’d just have to maim him very well.

  “Is that why we’re baking a cake?” Rosita asked, setting aside her plan of vengeance for later.

  “Sí,” Milagros answered. “Tu novio mucho tendrá hambre.”

  Rosita snorted at that. As much as she wanted to correct her mother and declare Ulrich wasn’t her boyfriend, considering her current state, the denial would be laughable. Besides, Ulrich would eat anything within sight regardless if he’d just had a five-course meal five minutes earlier.

  “The cake will be cooled by then?”

  Milagros shrugged. “No sé, pero habrá comida a comer.”

  Rosita leaned back in the seat, her hand settling on her abdomen. Already toned from her daily capoeira routines, her stomach was even firmer now because of the life she carried within her. She forced herself to take deep breaths even as her heart rate increased. Maybe she should’ve called him, should’ve prepared him. She’d known this day would come sooner or later. While she didn’t contact Ulrich per se, she did get updates about him from Bevin, who would get calls from Tim whenever he could. Everyone was safe last update, which had been two weeks ago.
r />   Yeah, so safe he’ll be at my place at any moment!

  He’d only been here once…after his breakup with Patrice…during New Year’s no less. The girl didn’t have a sense of timing worth a damn. Patrice had been on her way back to Seattle to visit her folks; and when she hadn’t invited Ulrich to come along, well, that had been quite the death knell. Since Tim had encouraged Ulrich to come down to South Carolina to ring in the New Year with friends, they’d somehow ended up at Rosita’s condo, which made sense because having a wild party at Bevin’s parents’ house was nigh impossible—especially with little Kerry in tow. To be fair, however, the party hadn’t started crazy; but when one was friends with Courtney and Tamara, bedlam was only a tick-tock away.

  Rosita and Ulrich hadn’t slept together then, surprisingly, but they’d had one hell of a makeout session. Ulrich, despite his inebriation, had had too much respect for Rosita to treat her as a trampoline woman. But when she’d come up to visit Bevin and Tim during the Martin Luther King holiday, all bets had been off.

  And clothes.

  And all the hard-ass Rosita-ness she wore like a badge of honor. He’d coaxed that right off her with tender kisses, delicate touches, and succulent moans of pleasure in her ear.

  “Thinking about him, chica?”

  Rosita sat up abruptly, her knee hitting underneath the table. She cursed under her breath while her mother merely grinned.

  “You think you know everything,” Rosita muttered, rubbing the smarting spot on her knee.

  “Porque yo sé todo,” Milagros said with a wide smile, “acerca de mis hijos.”

  ¡Dios! Would Rosita be that kind of mother? Would she be able to tell her children’s mood just by the inclines of their heads or the inflections of their voices? Granted, Milagros had had twenty-nine years to learn about her, but was the learning curve shallow or steep?

  She wondered if Bevin could already do it with Kerry.

  So deep in thought, she jumped at the chime that echoed through the condo, knocking her knee on the table again.

  “Tu novio está aqui, chica,” Milagros predicted.