I take a step closer. Our eyes lock, and we’re engulfed in a magnetic field, drawn together. He takes a step forward, causing me to lift my chin. As his face lowers, heat rises in my stomach.
Warm breath ghosts my cheek, mingling with my rapid breathing. Am I going to do this?
Blinking my eyes closed, my heart says Yes…
My head grows light as warm lips cover mine. My fingers curl on the rich material of his blazer. His fingers tighten, holding my arm.
Our lips part, and I feel the lightest touch of his tongue against mine, so delicate. Energy surges in my belly, and a bird is caught there, fluttering and beating its wings.
He lifts his head, and his blue eyes hold mine. A real smile lifts my cheeks, echoed on his face. We both exhale a little laugh at this powerful thing we just shared, so simple, yet so overwhelming.
His voice is low, as he makes me a promise. “I’ll see you again.”
Then he turns and leaves me, walking backwards a few steps before waving, confident and graceful.
I’m still watching, my head spinning, my heart flying, when my cousin Valeria’s voice breaks the spell. “What did he want?”
He’s gone, and I turn to face her. “Nothing.”
But my heart says different. My heart says, Everything. He asked without saying a word, and I said Yes.
“Carmie.” Her voice is sharp, and she grips my arm, giving me a little shake. I meet her eyes, and she’s blinking fast. “You are never to speak to that boy again. You understand?”
No. “Why?”
“Because he’s bad.” She looks up the way he left. “Promise me.”
“Promise you why?” Defiance is in my tone.
Her jaw tightens. “That boy is our enemy.”
“Our enemy?” I actually laugh. “What does that mean?”
“That boy’s grandfather cheated ours. He stole all his land, he sent our grandfather, Papa Luis to prison. He left us beggars in the street.”
She’s right. I don’t understand. “But we’re okay now?”
“You didn’t grow up here, Carmie. You don’t understand these things.”
Valeria is ten years older than me. She takes care of me now that both my parents have passed, and my brother is back in Mexico. I have nowhere else to go if not here.
Still… My throat is tight as I force the words. “Whatever. I promise.”
But my fingers are crossed in the pocket of my hoodie.
Valeria is wrong. Deacon is not my enemy.
My heart is full of light, and I can’t hate where love is already starting to grow, what my heart already knows. He’s going to change my life.
1
Deacon
Present day
When I step into the warm-beige interior of La Frida Java coffee shop from the blazing heat of late May in Texas, I have two things on my mind—air conditioning and the girl behind the counter.
Slim and petite, her hair hangs down her back in tight, spiral curls. She moves like a dancer, spinning to fill the coffee dispensers, hitting the brew button, then starting another order. My eyes drink her in, the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her glossy lips, and every second we’ve been apart aches in my bones.
It’s been a month since I’ve seen her. I went back to Harristown to finish my degree, and now I want to sweep her into my arms, cover her mouth with kisses, plunge into her depths.
“Welcome to La Frida. What can I get…” Her amber eyes blink up, and as soon as they meet mine, she lets out a little gasp. “Deacon!”
Her smile grows so big, the little dimple at the top of her cheek appears, and my stomach tightens. I love that dimple. I love tracing my lips along it when I hold her body next to mine.
Angelica Treviño is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She has been since the day she slammed into me walking on the sidewalk near a park on the south side.
I’ll never forget that day. She had the saddest face, and I only wanted to give her a smile. I had no idea when she did, I would also give her my heart.
We never had time to do anything about it back then. I left for Phillips Academy, an exclusive all-boys boarding school on the East Coast, and she stayed here. For four years, our relationship existed in emails and texts, sometimes the occasional handwritten letter. Until the summers, when I’d organize my life around finding her.
I’d “accidentally” bump into her at the park, at the fair, at the baseball field. I’d slide up beside her, and thread my fingers with hers briefly. I’d make her laugh and steal kisses, but she never let it go farther… until the summer after we graduated high school, right before I left for college. It was the greatest night of my life, and the worst, as it turned our time apart into torture. Nights lying in bed dreaming of her beautiful body, her soft sighs…
Reaching across the counter, I lace our fingers. “Can you take a break?”
“I wish. Staci called in sick, the new girl never showed up… We’re completely short-handed.” Her eyes move to the small line forming behind me. “Do you want coffee?”
I’m still holding her hand, sliding my thumb along her soft skin. I’ve missed her so much. Our eyes hold, and her cheeks flush as if she can read my thoughts.
She smiles, tilting her head to the side. “You’re holding up the line.”
Tearing my eyes from her gorgeous face, I scan the menu on the wall behind her. “How about… a tall Frida Latte and dip your little finger in it.”
She rolls her eyes, and I wait as she quickly starts my order then helps the next person in line. I watch her move, skimming my eyes down her back, over her cute little ass and down her long legs.
When she hands me my coffee, our fingers touch, and she smiles up at me. “Are you working today?”
“Lourdes asked me to stop by New Hope.” I provide free financial advice to displaced women at a shelter near Garland. Angel’s best friend Lourdes is the administrator there.
Her smile reappears. “I have an art class at four, but I can meet you there before.”
“It’s a date.”
She’s gone just as fast, rushing to the next customer in line. I back toward the door, taking one last look at her pretty face before stepping into the heat.
“Cater-waiter is good. The pay’s decent and you’ll get work references.” The young mother across the table from me bounces her toddler boy on her lap, watching me with worried eyes.
Her dark hair is slicked back in a tight bun with kiss curls above each of her temples. “I need something with better hours.”
“You don’t have credit card debt, which is great.”
“I don’t have a credit card.” She just looks at me.
“Right.” I return to her spreadsheet. “Can you put a little into savings each month? Maybe five percent of your paycheck?”
“Five percent!” Her eyes are round, and you’d think I’d suggested five million.
I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “It doesn’t have to be five percent. Even five dollars will build over time. Think of it like running a marathon—”
“I can barely cover my bills. I have to feed Chuy.” The little boy squirms in her lap.