“I like foreplay.” Dylan crosses his arms with a smugness on his face.
“No guys like foreplay,” Sierra argues.
“I do.” He shrugs.
“I thought those two words together weren’t in your vocabulary,” I say with a cocked eyebrow.
“Don’t you have a date?” Dylan asks.
I pull my phone from my purse to see it’s already six.
“Shit, I have to get ready.” I stand up and swing my computer bag and purse over my shoulder. “And it’s a work meeting, not a date.”
“I don’t get a smile like that on my face when I have to meet with Sargent Joe.” Knox raises his eyebrows up to his hairline.
Forgetting them, I push the doors of Ink Envy open and run across the street to our apartment building.
There’s no harm in me looking good for a work meeting. I mean, I can’t show up in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. What kind of message would that send?
Chapter Six
Ethan
The Modelo beer rests between my hands and my eyes are glued to the television, but I have no idea what soccer teams are playing.
This is a bad idea.
I’ve repeated that same mantra minutes after I sent Blanca the text while I was in the shower, again when I picked out jeans and a T-shirt that make it look like I’m not trying too hard, and just for good measure again when I perfected my hair with gel.
It repeated in my mind like a bad commercial jingle while I swiped the keys off the counter and pocketed my cell phone on the way out the door.
Still, here I am at Las Tacos, waiting for Blanca to arrive.
At least I didn’t suggest picking her up from her apartment. I deserve points for that.
Tossing back another sip, my foot taps on the rail of my bar stool.
After Sierra, the last thing I wanted was to get involved in a relationship. Things went from cloud nine to the depths of Hell in a week’s time with us. We rushed things by moving in together so we tried to make it work, probably longer than we should have.
If only this pull on my heart that says Blanca’s different would stop tugging and demanding attention. Then maybe I wouldn’t be at a restaurant with the lame excuse about our articles wanting to share my new fascination with her—Mexican food. Sierra hates Mexican, so after we broke up, I only ate Mexican for a while. Less of a chance I’d run into her.
“Are we eating at the bar?”
Blanca’s soft voice pulls me away from the memories of my nightmare of a last relationship.
I swivel on the bar stool. “Nah, we can grab a table.”
But she’s already sliding onto the stool next to me. “There’s a line.”
I look back. When I got here, the hostess station was clear. But she’s right, there’s a line formed now.
“This is fine and I’m hungry, so I say we stay.” She takes off her jacket and hangs it off the bar stool along with her purse.
“Sure.”
In my mind, I tell myself not to compare her anymore to Sierra, but I can’t help it. Sierra always wanted to eat without any televisions around. Said I always got too distracted and didn’t listen to her.
She grabs the drink menu from the holder and flips it over, perusing it.
While she’s not watching, I allow myself permission to soak her in. She’s curled her hair from earlier and she’s wearing a cute blouse and jeans with flats along with some gold bracelets, and a gold necklace. She looks over and I shift my vision away but not before noticing that she’s got fresh makeup on.
Maybe I’m not the only one who has something tugging on their heart, saying there’s something different between us. Something good here.
“Just a beer?” she asks. “You’d fit right in with my brothers.” A small laugh falls from her lips and my eyes zero in on her lip gloss. Usually lip gloss or lipstick annoys me because kissing her isn’t an option without coating my own lips, but I don’t give a shit with Blanca. Let me look like a drunk clown if it allowed me one taste of her.
“Speaking of. Do they know you’re here?” I grin.
She shakes her head with a smile and puts the menu back down. The bartender stops in front of her. “Margarita, rocks, salt on the edge.” She turns back to me after the bartender walks away. “The answer to your question is no.”
“What would they say about being on a date with a stranger?” The word date was a slip, but I notice that she doesn’t correct me.
I swivel my chair in her direction and she crosses her legs, positioning herself my way too.
“You’re not a stranger. You’re my co-worker.”
“True, but you just met me.” I flick my wrist to check my watch. “Not even twenty-four hours ago.”
She grabs my wrist like she needs to see the time for herself. Her fingertips on my skin bring a rush of heat right to my groin. “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life.”
She’s right. Somehow it feels like we’ve known each other all our lives. There’s a comfort level between us normally only there after time and proximity. I’m a lucky guy for finding her on that train.
The bartender breaks up our conversation, placing Blanca’s margarita down in front of her. “Menus?” he asks.
“Please,” she says. Not one glance my way to see if I’m on board. Her confidence is sexy as hell.
Maybe it’s because my mom always catered to my dad. Nothing was final until he ruled on the decision. Ever since I can remember, a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t looking to me for permission is an aphrodisiac for me.
As though already prepared, the bartender hands us two menus and heads down the bar to serve other patrons.
“Have you been here before?” she asks, her eyes never leaving the menu.
“Yeah, the carne asada is fantastic.” I place my menu down.
She eyes the movement and flicks her gaze to me. “That’s what you’re getting?”
I sense judgment in her tone. “Um… yeah?”
“This place is called Las Tacos, right?”
“And?”
“Have you had the tacos?” She flips through the menu, gaze darting from one side of it to the other.
“I’m not a taco kind of guy.”
She gasps like I said I don’t like cake or something. “If they think highly enough of their tacos to name the entire restaurant after them, I say you should try some.”
I pick up the menu to peruse it some more but think better of it and place it back down. “Okay, how about you order for me?”
Her eyebrows crinkle and she shakes her head. “No.”
“I’m not a hard guy to please, don’t worry.” I wink and she smiles for a second.
“You already said you aren’t a taco guy.”
I shrug and grab my beer from the bar top. “I’m willing to try anything once.”
“You’re serious?”
I nod and tip my beer back for a sip. Once I place it back down, I set my gaze on her. “Very. Order for me something I’ll dream about tonight. Something no other meal in my life will ever compare to.” I grin.
Her attention moves to the menu and all I can think of is how cute she looks when she’s thinking really hard. I caught her earlier today at her desk when I made the lame joke from Office Space about Mondays and she had a pen wedged between her teeth while her hand was on her mouse scrolling and clicking.