Her sigh spills through the line, the weight pressing into my chest the way it always does. “I’ve been calling. Are you busy?”
Before I can answer, he leans closer. “Don’t let me audition on an empty stomach. You should at least buy me dinner first.”
My breath catches so hard it sounds like a gasp, and my cheeks go nuclear. Of course, my mother hears him.
“Alycia.” My mother’s voice sharpens, suspicion cutting clean. “Was that a man’s voice?”
Panic spikes so fast it’s dizzying. My mind sprints for an escape route it can’t find. Before I can talk myself down, I’m already digging into my bag, yanking out my wallet, and slapping a fifty into his palm.
“Congratulations, you’re my boyfriend now.”
His brows shoot up, but that way-too-pleased-with-himself grin spreads like I’ve just made his entire day. He twirls the bill between his fingers beforetucking it into his pocket as if I’d handed him a trophy.
“Fifty?” he echoes. “That’s all I’m worth?”
“Take it or leave it.” My tone is like the one I use when rookies test me, but the warmth pooling low in my stomach betrays me.
“Oh, I’ll take it.” He leans in a fraction, heat radiating from him as he pats his pocket, eyes glinting. “And the job.”
The elevator jolts as it continues its ascent, and I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop a smile from escaping. My brain is shrieking that this is a disaster. The type of mistake rom-com heroines spend three hundred pages untangling. But my body has already signed the contract, and that terrifies me almost as much as it thrills me.
“Mija,” my mom snaps through the line, suspicion slicing sharp.
“That was my boyfriend,” I blurt out, pulse pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
The lie leaps out before I can stop it, tasting completely insane on my tongue, but before I can come up with a single follow-up, her voice sharpens.
“Well, let me talk to him.”
“Mamá, no—” I blurt out way too fast, panic flooding my chest as he reaches for the phone.
No. Absolutely not. Abort mission. I jerk the phone back on instinct, but before I can yank it away, he plucks it from my grasp and presses it to his ear.
“Este hombre…” I mutter, disbelief punching through my voice.
“Hello,” he says, voice warm and confident, like he’s been waiting his whole life to play this role.
I nearly choke as he lounges back against the wall, answering my mother with the ease of a seasoned actor and the confidence of someone who’s never once second-guessed himself.
“No, ma’am,” he responds quickly, winking at me before focusing his attention back on his conversation with my mother. “We, uh… met a little while back.”
Shit.I didn’t even think about what to say to my mom about how we met. Bribing him with fifty bucks in an elevator at work isn’t the best first meeting. I feel the heat climb my neck, but he doesn’t miss a beat because, of course, he doesn’t.
“A small town called Redwood Falls, just outside Portland. My family still lives there. I came to the city to visit your gorgeous daughter and my brothers.”
My heart trips over itself so fast it hurts. Brothers? Redwood Falls? He’slying through his teethand sounding better than any crisis-trained rookie I’ve ever coached. Worst of all, he does it with this effortless confidence that makes me want to scream and laugh at the same time.
He tilts his head, listening to her next question, eyes flicking to me with a spark that should not make my stomach flip.
“Oh, college?” He chuckles, low and rich. “Graduated last June. Business economics with a double majorin something fancier than I usually say out loud. Let’s just call it numbers and leave it there.”
I slap a hand over my mouth, equal parts horrified and impressed. He’s way too good at this. He pauses, listening again, with that damn grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. I can’t hear a single thing my mother is saying, but I know that tone. She’s moved from suspicion to something even worse: interest.
“Ay, no, no, no…” I groan quietly, dread curling tight in my stomach.
“I’d love to come to dinner one night,” he adds, eyes gleaming with mischief as they meet mine. “I’ll even bring my mom’s world-famous apple pie. Alycia’s been talking about it nonstop since the last time my mom made it for her.”
What? No, I haven’t. I don’t even like pie that much.The lie is so absurdly specific, I know exactly what’s coming next. My mom is going to latch on to it like a bloodhound, digging for every detail. She’ll want to know when I ate this pie, and how it compares to the apple cobbler I claimed was my favorite in high school. Then I’ll be forced to tell her the entire story, front to back, and she’ll keep pressing until my flimsy answers collapse like a badly built Jenga tower.
