“Being a server was fun most of the time.” The sky-blue pottery plate he put in front of her held three wrapped tamales and a generous helping of refried beans. “But there’s always that one entitled customer.”
“And they’re the ones who don’t tip.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took his seat. “We’d come home complaining about it, and Dad would say just remember it sucks to be them.”
“What a great response.” She surveyed the feast he’d laid before her. “And what a great lunch! Thanks so much. You’re spoiling me.”
“Con gusto, senorita.”
My pleasure. Her skin tingled. Did he remember saying that whenever she’d thanked him for an amazing time in bed?
She made the mistake of glancing up. Oh, yeah, he remembered. The simmering heat and subtle invitation in his dark eyes combined with that dimpled smile created havoc in her lady parts.
She should have kept her focus on her plate. Now she couldn’t see anything but her dream lover and the arched doorway over his right shoulder. Who cared about tamales?
“I’d forgotten.” His soft murmur deepened the spell. “When you want me, you glow.”
“It’s the red umbrella.”
“It’s not the umbrella. It’s you. It’s us.”
She struggled to breathe. “We can’t….”
“No, we can’t.” His voice grew husky. “But I want to. So do you.”
She had no response. He was right.
Holding her gaze, he reached for his beer.
Then she remembered something else. They used to toast some random thing before taking their first sip. Nothing noble or sentimental. Silly stuff. She picked up her bottle, the chilled glass sending a shiver through her overstimulated body.
He cleared his throat. “To Fudge’s right front hoof.”
Worked for her. “To Fudge’s right front hoof.” She tapped her bottle against his and took a sip.
He chose differently. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he took several long swallows.
She couldn’t look away. The blatant sensuality of that move sent her pulse into overdrive and dampened her panties.
Setting the bottle down with a sigh, he picked up one of the corn-husk-wrapped tamales. “Be careful with these. They’re super-hot.”
“Thanks.” The tamales weren’t the only super-hot thing around here. She took another sip of her beer to steady her nerves. Then she carefully unwrapped a tamale and picked up a fork. “You must have been thirsty.”
His soft chuckle sent another shudder of longing through her. “Oh, I was. Still am.”
“Damn it, Luis.”
“I just responded to your comment.”
“You also confirmed that you knew exactly what you were doing, drinking like you were making love to the bottle.”
“It was either that or kiss you. We both know what would happen next. Monty wouldn’t say anything if we were gone a couple of hours, but I predict you’d be awash in guilt.”
“A couple of hours?” That image made her shake so bad she put down her fork.
“At least.” He hadn’t even picked up his. “It’s been five years.” The gleam in his eyes held her captive. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
His assumption that it was a done deal challenged her to push back. “Or not. I haven’t agreed to anything.”
