A Proposal They Can't Refuse (Vega Family Love Stories, #1)

by Natalie Caña

At some point Liam had turned into a whole snack, and she was feeling decidedly peckish.

Peckish? For Liam? No. She’d put that all behind her after her prom night when he’d left her confused, hurt, and unfulfilled. Just like she had when she’d yanked the hem of her dress from around her hips and hopped down from the bed of his grandpa’s truck, Kamilah pushed down all the emotions Liam Kane made her feel. She tugged at his hold on her wrists with enough force to let him know she was serious about being released, and Liam opened his hands instantly.

The only problem was that for the life of her she couldn’t think of how to get the two most iron-willed men she’d ever known to back down. It wasn’t in their nature. They didn’t concede. When they couldn’t dominate outright, they charmed and manipulated. They loved to play games, and they loved to win. The only way Kamilah saw this working was to cheat.

“I’m not saying that we give in. I’m saying that it’s time to beat them at their own game.” He crossed his arms over his spectacular chest, completely unimpressed with her declaration. “And how do you plan to do that?” “We outfox them. We play dirty, just like they are.” Liam looked at her as if she’d just thrown up on his shoes, part astonishment but mostly disgust. “You want to scam our sickly eighty-year-old grandpas?”

“What if we tell them that we will do it, but we just hold off.” Liam shook his head. “That will never work. They’re as impatient as they are uncooperative.” “I mean, there is going to have to be some waiting involved. Unless they expect us to elope to Las Vegas.” She snorted at the thought. “As if I would ever be forgiven for denying my parents a wedding for their only daughter.” Kamilah gasped. “That’s it. We’ll tell them that we can’t just suddenly get married because my parents would know something shady is going on and flip out. Instead, we have to be dating for a while, before we can even think about getting married. Of course, we aren’t really going to be dating or get married. We just hold them off while we get done what we need to get done.”

“I got it.” Kamilah clapped. “We will make Killian getting treatment a condition of our acceptance.” Liam’s eyes widened the tiniest bit. He opened his mouth, closed it, tilted his head back, and looked into the branches of a tree while he thought.

The consequence was clear. If Killian didn’t get treatment, there was a good chance he wouldn’t see whether their hard work paid off. He wouldn’t get to finally put his son to rest, and Liam would have the expectations of yet another ghost to live up to. Her chest tightened at the thought.

“We can fix this. My plan will work. We all get what we want,” she said. Then she thought better and added, “Maybe not exactly what we want or in the way we wanted to get it, but no one is left empty-handed.” He shook his head. “This is a terrible idea.” “Liam, trust me.” She smiled. “When have I ever steered you wrong?” “My entire childhood.” He paused, then blew out a deep breath of resignation. “Fine. We’ll do it.”

“What would they think if Kamilah and I just got married out of the blue? Everyone knows we can barely stand to be in the same room. There’s no way they’d think we had the sudden urge to get married. So unless you plan to tell them what’s up...” Liam trailed off. Kamilah took his silence as her prompt to jump in. “Regardless of us having differing views of El Coquí, my parents do love me, and they would go postal if I just up and married someone. They would start to ask questions. If they found out about this blackmail scheme of yours,” she said as she used her finger to motion between their grandpas, “they would quit and leave. Everyone else in the family would find out. People would start taking sides. It will be like Tía Flaca moving to New York with Eva and leaving her other girls all over again.” It was clear by the way his face fell at Kamilah’s comment that he did not want to cause another rift in the family. “You’re right,” he told Kamilah. “They can’t find out about this.”

“No,” Papo said. “That’s not good enough. The point is to prove you can balance work and personal life. Going on a few dates doesn’t prove that.” “It has to be something that requires more commitment,” Granda added.

“Fine. We’ll get engaged. Does that make you happy?” Liam gave her a look he hoped conveyed his plan to kill her as soon as they were alone. It must not have, because the look she gave him clearly said What are you mad about? This is what we agreed to. Fine. If she thought she could do this any better than he could, let her try.

“I plan to tell them that Liam and I spent a lot of time together when we were with you two, and then we started hanging out by ourselves. Things just sort of progressed from there, and now we’re engaged.” “¿Qué qué?” a woman’s voice yelled from directly behind them. Suddenly everything became clear. It wasn’t Jonel’s car that had caused that optical illusion. It was the distorted reflection in the window of Kamilah’s parents standing in the doorway. They’d just been completely played by the grandfathers.

“God heard our prayers, Santos. Our only daughter is engaged. She’s getting married. Finally. And not to some comemierda like the last one. I never thought this day would come. I thought she was going to give us nothing but grandcats.”

He had every intention of bullying her into wearing that ring. “Eimear told me long ago that this ring was for her grandson to give to his future wife. That’s you.” Kamilah floundered. “But I’m n—” Granda jumped in before she could put her foot in her mouth. “I know you’re worried it won’t fit, but I know it will. Liam got it sized.” Liam worked hard to keep his face carefully blank. It seemed like the Dynamic Doddering Duo had thought of everything. It was enough to make his blood run cold. What else was in store from them? Just how far was this going to go? Granda had no boundaries when it came to getting what he wanted. Liam could only hope Papo was more merciful. Then again, the fact he was blackmailing his own granddaughter proved he was willing to go pretty far.

Liam tugged the ring out of its resting spot in the box. It slid on as if it were made for her. Something about it being on her finger fit in a way that didn’t just have to do with circumference. The ring sat prettily right between the faded white line of a knife cut and a tiny oval-shaped scar from a burn. Without thinking, Liam brushed a calloused thumb over all three, her skin soft against his. Something tightened in his chest.

“This doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the woman you love as much as Killian loved your nana.” Liam met Granda’s gaze from where he was standing close enough to hear their whispered conversation. The look on his face said If only she knew, huh, lad?

Lucia and Eliza—Lucy and Liza to family and friends—lived. They had met in their sophomore year when Kamilah’s cousin Lucy had gone on one of her trademark rants about the plight of Latinx women, and Liza had chimed in about the battles Black women face. Their conversation became a debate, the debate got heated, that heat eventually had them burning up between the sheets, and they’d been together ever since.

“Let us not forget that after years of close friendship, he turned his back on you.” “He was a kid who’d been through trauma,” Kamilah said. Sofi ignored that. “Then he treated you like you had skunk mouth for years.” “Okay, but—” Sofi was on a roll. “Then he took you to prom but bailed before it was even over.” Yeah, that was after their ill-fated make-out session in the back of Killian’s truck, so she could understand why he’d wanted to get away. However, no one knew about that. Not even Sofi. “Since then, he’s been a cold, dismissive asshat, who doesn’t appreciate any of the things you do to help him and his grandpa.”

“Made in Taiwan. Really, Benji?” Ben smiled and shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about getting it tattooed on my forehead. Then maybe people will stop asking me what kind of Asian I am, like I’m some flavor of chip they were deciding whether or not to try.” “Try being Black and Asian,” Dev said while climbing to his feet. “People literally ask me if I’m Blackanese.” He reached down and offered a hand to Rome. Rome grabbed on. “The worst part is that they think they’re so clever.” He got to his feet. “Like, bro, that shit was old in the nineties when Chris Tucker was saying it.” The trio of cousins shook their heads in unison.

“Dude, you’ve had it bad for Kamilah since you were kids. Don’t act like you didn’t jump at the chance to come to her rescue and win your way back into her life.”

dropped back onto the seat next to him. “Liam, all I’m saying is there were other options available to you, and yet you chose the one that includes faking an intimate relationship with your childhood sweetheart.” “We weren’t childhood sweethearts. We were friends, and then we grew up and grew apart like most childhood friends do. If I’m doing this now, it’s only because I had no other option.” Ben gave Liam a disbelieving look and purposely drawn-out “Mmm-hmm.”

Her family was proving what they thought of her. She was nothing but a funny anecdote—the butt of a joke. She couldn’t be taken seriously or trusted to complete a task the right way. She could argue her case until she was blue in the face, and they still wouldn’t trust her with anything real. That hurt.

like there was something wrong with her and she wasn’t good enough. She swallowed the thickness in her throat and willed the tears forming in her eyes to disappear.

All she wanted was to fix up El Coquí and put it on the track to success. That was all. Yet everyone and everything conspired against her. Why was it that she was expected to jump whenever anyone else wanted her to, but when she wanted to do something, everyone acted like she was being unreasonable? Now she had to play this stupid game with Abuelo and Killian just to do what her family should already be supporting her in doing.

The distillery had always been Liam’s place to simply be himself in whatever form he happened to be. It was his haven. His true home. A sense of serenity and belonging enveloped him.

She was wearing more clothes than some of the women on the tours that afternoon, but the sight of Kamilah in a pair of black workout leggings and a gray sweatshirt affected him in a way the flirty sundresses and backless rompers had not. Everything about her, from her lush figure and pouty mouth to her mass of dark springy curls and big bright eyes, brought to mind one word: bountiful. Kamilah was a bounty of beauty, energy, and affection, and to be in her presence was to desire to feast.

He knew it would be so good, but the fact of the matter was that Kamilah was the type of woman who needed love and happily-ever-after. And sure, he’d loved Kamilah since they were kids, but it wasn’t the right kind. His love was dark and resentful and needy. It was unhealthy, and the last thing he’d ever do was force it on her. She deserved better. She always had.

That was impossible. There was no way Liam could even be in the same room with her and not know she was there. He was too aware of her every movement. Her every breath.

It was a horrible idea. But the temptation to sleep with her, even platonically, proved too strong to resist.

Okay, fine. She’d always had affection for Liam. It was impossible not to. They were best friends for their entire childhood. Just because their friendship ended, it didn’t mean that those feelings had. Even on his part, she could tell that he still felt some sort of fondness for her.

“Abuelo is your best friend?” “Sí.” “You married your best friend?” At Abuela’s nod, Kamilah’s jaw dropped, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Why would you want to marry your best friend?” “¿Por qué no?” “Because a best friend is one thing, and a person you marry is another,” Kamilah explained. Abuela smiled at her and shook her head. “No ojitos, son la misma persona. You should only marry your best friend. Remember that when you grow up.”

“Buenos días,” he murmured in the Puerto Rican accent he’d picked up from her family. She’d only heard him speak Spanish a handful of times, but she knew Liam understood a great deal of the language, and it never failed to make her feel warm and fuzzy. She wasn’t sure why, since it was mostly a testament to the frequency with which they’d been railed at by their elders, who tended to revert to their first language when excited or angry. They’d got into tons of trouble as kids—well, mainly she, her brothers, and cousins had. Liam usually ended up guilty by association, the poor, quiet observer. Yet he’d never complained or turned his back on her. Now look at them: engaged yet barely friends.

Maybe that was what she had to do in order to be heard and appreciated: buy her way into the restaurant. Of course, she was broke as hell, but she did have some money saved. Maybe that would be enough to get her parents fully on board instead of grudgingly following Abuelo’s dictate that they let Kamilah try.

“You want us to help each other with our projects,” Liam said. “Yes,” Killian said around a bite. “You each have the skills the other one needs right now, so why not?” “But this is another rule, right?” Kamilah asked. “You aren’t really asking us if we want to do it. You’re telling us this is what you expect.” Abuelo scratched at his eyebrow. “If you want to call it that.” She looked at Liam, who simply waved a hand in a sort of Well, what are ya gonna do? manner. He wasn’t wrong.

That was the problem right there. She did like spending time with Liam. She liked it too much. He just never seemed to like it as much as she did.

She created the coquí to call for him, because she hoped in her heart of hearts that she would find him and they could reunite. It’s why the frog means so much to us. It represents the never-flagging hope for something better and the resilience to keep fighting for it even when all seems lost. If we call out to each other, then we are never alone.”

Kamilah sighed. “This is Chase’s restaurant.” He swallowed wrong, coughing and sputtering as the name took him by surprise. “Chase...as in your ex?” Liam hated that guy. He was a pretentious poser. She nodded. “I thought he was in Hollywood being a douche.” “Apparently not,” she responded. “Apparently, he’s buying old Puerto Rican restaurants in the neighborhood and turning them into hipster hangouts.” She gestured around them and then picked up the menu on the table. “And he’s made a fucking menu using recipes he stole from me.” That sounded on-brand for the douche. “I take it the duck tacos were your creation.” Liam’s hands fisted. “Don’t you see?” Her leg started moving faster as she got more and more worked up. “Ese hipócrita comemierda is trying to rub it in my face.” Her palm met the table with every syllable she said. She was gaining the attention of the people around them, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Why else come back to Chicago, and Humboldt Park specifically? Why else use my recipes?” Liam ignored the little twinge of pleasure he got out of hearing Kamilah call her ex a hypocritical shit-eater. Her entire family used the phrase to refer to his snobbery, but something about hearing her say it pleased him irrationally.

Here he was gazing at her all afternoon, fantasizing about kissing her...and she was using him.

Oh she’s good. She was really good, and he was a fucking eejit for having enjoyed the sight of her bare shoulders every time the neckline of the sweater had slipped. Worse than a fucking eejit. He was an insanely jealous fucking eejit, because he wanted her to put that effort in for him. He didn’t care if she wore makeup or not. He didn’t even care that he was about ninety percent sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. How could she, with such a sweater? It was the thought that she wanted to look her best for some other guy that made him want to gnash his teeth. Not just any guy, but the douche in chef’s whites who was currently weaving through tables when he should’ve been in the kitchen.

Chase was almost upon them, and Kamilah was still ripping Liam a new one. A fact he knew would embarrass her if her ex overheard. Liam did the one thing he could think of to salvage their pride. He muttered a quick “Quiet.” Then he pushed their dishes to the side, leaned forward, wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, and dragged her mouth to his. The instant their lips touched, some part deep inside himself sighed as if relieved of endless torment. Finally, it seemed to say. He kept his mouth soft and light, coaxing and subduing her. He kissed her from one corner of her lips to the other, stopping only briefly to sweep the tip of his tongue down the crease at the center of her plump bottom lip. Meanwhile, his brain yelled at him to stop. Warning signs flashed in his mind. Danger! This way lies certain death. Liam had known for a long time how dangerous Kamilah was. Already a flickering light bulb ready to burn out, adding Kamilah’s insanely high voltage was a recipe for disaster. All that would be left of him was a jagged husk of broken glass, and poor Kamilah would be sliced to ribbons by the damage. Liam started to pull away, but she reached up and pulled him closer. He forgot everything else, savoring her in the same way she’d savored different foods all day long—slowly, methodically, missing nothing, and enjoying everything.

“Next time you’ll have to tell me what you think of the place,” Chase said to her in a smart-ass way that made Liam want to punch him in the nose. Liam answered as if the invite were directed at him. “I think it’s exactly the kind of place that would be owned by un hipócrita comemierda.” Kamilah gasped. Liam ignored it and started tugging them to the exit of the fenced-in outdoor seating. “Congratulations on figuring out how to feed off someone else’s ideas for the last five years,” he threw over his shoulder. At his side, Kamilah burst into scandalized laughter.

She’d fucked up big-time. She could admit it. She should’ve told him beforehand that Chase’s restaurant was on their list. She should’ve asked if their agreement extended to exes and if he were willing to back her up in front of hers. They were partners, and she’d just made a decision for him. If the shoe were on the other foot, she’d be pissed.

The truth was that Liam had come up a lot during her seven-year relationship with Chase. Every time they’d got home after a get-together where Liam was present, there would be an argument. Chase would accuse Kamilah of harboring romantic feelings for Liam. He’d tell her, “You’re like a child poking and teasing the boy you like.” At which point Kamilah would have to remind him of Liam’s all-around apathy toward her. Then the argument would start all over again with Chase accusing her of flaunting herself to get Liam’s attention. Never mind that every time Mia, her tall and trim, blond-haired, blue-eyed cousin, was around, Chase salivated like a starving man.

“Chase was always needlessly jealous of you,” she told him. In response to that, an eyebrow rose. “Needlessly?” Kamilah realized how that sounded. “Not needlessly like he’s better than you in any way. He’s human trash, and you’re obviously not,” she clarified. The eyebrow crept higher. “I meant needlessly in that Chase created false narratives in his head. Like, he would say that I tried too hard around you or that you would stare at me when I wasn’t looking. He always wanted to make it seem like there were secret feelings between us.” Kamilah left out that she was starting to believe Chase might have been right. Two people who felt nothing for each other didn’t kiss like that. “He was just using you, the only male nonrelative he ever saw me around, as a scapegoat to justify why he flirted with Mia all the time.” “Mia...your cousin Mia?”

“Hey, that’s my cousin you’re talking about.” A small smile appeared in the corner of his lips, and he shrugged. “I’m just saying she’d never have the balls to take part in a Shakespearean farce directed by two troublesome octogenarians in order to make her dreams come true.” A strong and heady warmth wove its way from her heart through the rest of her body. She loved that he saw her as interesting and ballsy and not imprudent or immature. Her smile emerged full force.

“It’s just interesting to hear you think aloud. Your brain works exactly how I thought it would.” She couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t think that was a compliment. “Yeah, it’s like dropping a box full of bouncy balls off a balcony.”

MOOD LOL

“It’s not that bad,” he said once his laughter had subsided. “It’s just energetic and a bit topsy-turvy. It’s like in cartoons when they pop a cork and it goes ricocheting around the room until someone finally catches it.” She wasn’t sure that was much better. “Those corks always do a lot of damage before they’re stopped.” That was her biggest fear. That her ideas or her efforts would ruin everything instead of help. She wanted to lighten burdens, not add to them. Change wasn’t comfortable. It required getting in there and getting dirty. But how much change was too much?

That was the problem. He knew too much, so he shared too much, and people got bored and annoyed.

Once again Liam was left staring at Kamilah in awe. She was so animated in almost everything she did that it was easy to mistake her passion for chaos and confusion. But she knew what she was doing and what she was talking about. Her brain simply worked faster than she could communicate calmly. The problem wasn’t with her abilities but with people constantly trying to block or subdue her.

If he were honest, he’d been guilty of underestimating her too. But no more. Between listening to her think aloud as she broke down the pros and cons of neighborhood restaurants and the way she kept throwing out insightful ideas about his own business, Liam had come to realize that he could learn a few things from her.