4
Hector leaned his head back against the refrigerator door and closed his eyes. Yeah, he’d abandoned her to this hell for five years. If she’d done it to him, he’d never forgive her. s**t.
Closing his eyes didn’t help.
Now he wasn’t seeing her long flow of softly curling black hair with just a hint of her grandmother’s dark gold, framing that perfect face. He couldn’t see the proud curves above her slender waist that he had so loved to bury his face in. But he could smell her: rich, dark, spicy—overlaid with drying mole sauce on her tight jeans. Like a mix of the lush bounty of the goddess Mayahuel and the fierce and deadly earth goddess Tlaltecuhtli. She had seemed that way ever since they’d sat side by side in primaria school desks and learned about the ancient Aztecs.
And she was s
