“Oh, yeah. I’ve noticed you on your gym tip. The weight loss looks good. You went from Rod Wave to a bald Marshawn Lynch.”
“Oh, you clownin’?” He grinned. “Trust me, a big belly never stopped shit. I switched things up for my health. I couldn’t let my parents bury another child.”
“Hmph. I never knew you to be so mindful.”
“That’s because you don’t really know me. Now, let’s go get some real food.”
The small line outside of the Mexican restaurant moved fast. We had to show identification to enter, which annoyed Loso, but I squeezed his shoulder, instantly chilling his heated demeanor. From the outside, the business appeared to be a restaurant, but once inside, I noticed there was a dancefloor in the center of the room. Holiday jams blasted through the spot, and a mixture of folk art and Christmas decorations covered the walls. When a hostess ushered us through the crowd, Loso grabbed my hand and tucked me at his side as we walked to our table.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” Loso announced after confirming I was comfortable.
“Okay. I’ll order usrealtequila. Not that fake shit the S.O. Es splurge on in the club.”
His eyebrows jogged up his forehead. “Fake? You took one trip to Mexico, and now you’re an expert?”
I lifted a shoulder and cut my eyes to the ceiling. “Maybe?”
“All right then, Essen. Teach me something.”
Since I didn’t know what Loso liked, I ordered everything from tacos to shrimp cocktails. In the back of my mind, I thought about how he trusted me to order for him instead of feeling the need to assert his dominance. I appreciated a man who was confident in allowing me to lead.
By the time Loso returned, our bottle had arrived, and I had it cracked opened. We toasted to a good partnership, and I added in a Christmas wish that Loso would find his love for the holidays. He claimed my wish was immature, but the smile on his face made me believe he was optimistic.
During our first hour at the spot, we drank, ate, and talked about the eclectic crowd. When the second hour hit, I was one drink from drunk and staring at my text thread with Caleb.
“You stay in that phone,” Loso slurred from the other side of the table. “What’s the deal with you and the dude you’re messing with?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He sucked his teeth. “Get out of here with that shit. Your brothers may think that pussy is on a pedestal, but I know a little better.”
Tickled by his vulgar comeback, I giggled as I raised my glass to my lips.
“Anything you say stays between us,” he suggested. “Go ahead. Tell Santa what you want but ain’t getting.”
“Ugh. Shut up.” Heat touched my cheeks. “I’m not telling you all my business, but I will say . . . I’m seeing someone. If you want to call it that.”
“Why are you unsure?”
“I’m sure,” I debated. “I’m also certain a man is supposed to chase me. He isn’t running fast enough.” I shrugged. “Anyway, we’ve been sitting here for two hours. When are you going to ask me to dance? This is one of my favorite Christmas songs.”
“‘Let it Snow?’”
“Yep, especially the Boyz II Men version.”
Loso’s heavy-lidded gaze widened when I smiled. He didn’t say anything, just rose from his seat and offered me his hand. I danced out of my chair and followed the giant to a spot close by our table. Now that I was on my feet, I couldn’tdeny I was beyond tipsy. My two-step was weak, yet my senses were heightened. My nipples rubbed against Loso’s chest as he anchored us from side to side, damn near rocking me to sleep. Something about being close to a man who smelled good and held me tight made me loose. When his hand settled above the curve in my spine, I didn’t dare check him.
“Look at me, Essen.”
My eyes found his before I could dismiss his demand.
“You grew up around niggas who move when you say so, and you fell for the nigga who won’t. You’re too smart and pretty for that. The men around you guard you with their life because you’re precious, not just because you’re Shiloh and Church’s little sister.”
“Ain’t nothing little about me,” I sassed, dropping one arm from around his neck and cuffing my ass. “I may not be your type, but I promise, I’m a lot of nigga’s dream girl.”
He unchained a breathy laugh. “That liquor got you feeling yourself. I’ve never said you weren’t my type. I just think you’re precious. You need to be handled with care.”
My lazy two-step slowed a few paces. “You don’t think you can handle me?”
