“So what’s Nina getting ready for?” My voice was flat, but I knew better than to think she’d miss the edge under it.
Her eyes gleamed. “For her date.”
The word cracked like a knuckle. I didn’t move, didn’t even blink, but my jaw locked. “Date.”
“With my brother,” Carmen added, rifling through a different bag. “Diego’s a sweetheart.” She looked straight into my eyes, teasing. “I’ve been told he’s hot. She’ll thank me later.”
My teeth ground together. “Your brother.”
She gave me one of those smiles of hers, half sweetness, half grit. “It’s just dinner.”
Just dinner. A date. A fucking date. Nina, who’d just danced with and wrapped her arms around me, getting ready in my apartment for another man. Nina, stepping back into the kitchen in a high-waisted skirt that landed just above mid-thigh. Nina, inan off-shoulder top that showed a hint of a flowery lace strapless bra. Nina, gorgeous, kind, and very muchnotmine.
Carmen flicked her gaze to me. “Relax, Carter. It’s just harmless fun. Especially since you’re spending so much time with Nasty Tasha.”
Carmen’s sly smile shone. As if it wasn’t her idea for me to play buddy-buddy with the viper. I clenched my jaw. I almost said Nina didn’t need fun. The poison gathered behind my throat. The words tempting.She doesn’t get to live with me and date around.That’d be asshole Lincoln though. I exhaled.
And I poured my stupid heart into making the fluffiest foam I could. Carmen laughed, sharp and amused, as if I’d just confirmed everything she already suspected. Down the hall, the sound of Nina’s laugh slipped under my skin. She was happy.
It took a date. Just not a date with me.
14
Nina
Lynnie parked and faced me. Her eyes darted between me and the entrance to the restaurant across the street.
“Is that him?” she said, pointing at a guy leaning against the brick wall.
“Probably not.” I was a few minutes late, so he would be waiting inside.
I adjusted my jacket, fingers tugging at the hem, nerves firing under my skin.
“You gonna be all right, Nins?” Lynnie asked. “Want me to stick around for a minute before I head back to meet up with Carmen?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. I know what to do on dates.”
Did I, though? I couldn’t remember the last first date I’d had. Did Kevin’s visits count as dates? Lincoln’s expression—smiling ruefully at me over gnocchi—flashed in my mind. I clicked my tongue to push the image away. That hadn’t been a date.
I opened the door and stepped out of Lynnie’s silver hatchback, muttering for her to wish me luck. Her car didn’t move. Apparently, she was having her five minutes of playing stakeout cop.
The restaurant, La Luna, sat on the corner—sunbaked walls painted a golden ocher, catching the last traces of evening light. The name of the restaurant was etched in multicolored letters across dark-blue trim. A large neon arrow glowed pink and turquoise, spelling out the promise of tacos and tequila. Music floated from the open windows, mingling with the scent of lime, grilled meat, and warm tortillas.
A man about a half head taller than me approached me, hands shoved in the pockets of a leather jacket. His dark-chocolate hair was pulled into a half bun, the rest falling around his face in soft waves that curled just an inch below his earlobe. It looked damp, as if he’d showered right before this date. He stopped right in front of me, and I couldn’t help fixating on the roughness of his skin, the shadow of a beard prickling along his sharp jaw. He smiled brightly, full lips pulling wide, with no trace of smugness—though a glint in his eye gave away how much he enjoyed being looked at.
He extended his hand to me, and when I took it, I felt the calluses on his palm and fingertips. My hand, much smaller and paler, wrapped around his warm-terracotta skin, richer than Carmen’s.
“I’m Diego,” he said. “Nina?”
I nodded. He tugged gently on my arm until I stepped into him. His warm-brown eyes flicked to the side, where I spotted Lynnie’s silhouette in the car. Her phone was tilted toward us.
A sheepish smile tugged at Diego’s mouth. “Are you up for giving your friend a bit of a show?” His voice dipped low, his breath warming my jaw.
There was a confidence in his tone, a rasp that hinted at late nights and laughter. I smirked and nodded, but he didn’t move. Only after IsaidI was down for whatever did he kiss my cheek. Just as smoothly, he draped his arm over my shoulders, his fingertips brushing over my collarbone.
His head dipped and he whispered, “That’ll give her—and my sister—something to talk about for the night.” Then he lifted his head. “You ready to eat? Does this place look okay to you?”
“It looks great. Carmen picked well.”
