“Shelby. What are you doing out here?” he asks.
“People are asking where she is, Blue. If Eduardo catches you with his seventeen-year-old daughter—”
Before she can say more, his sharp gaze hits me. “You’re seventeen?”
“You need to escort her back before someone comes,” the woman says, then turns and walks away.
“Who was that?” I whisper.
“My president’s ol’ lady. Why didn’t you tell me how old you are?” His voice hardens.
“I thought you knew.”
“Hell, no. I didn’t know.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
“I turn eighteen soon.”
“I’ve got to get you back,” he says, ignoring my reply and grabbing my upper arm, but I jerk it free.
“I can find my own way.” I don’t know why I’m so angry, but I am, and I stomp away. I don’t get two steps.
“Luisa, stop.” Blue grabs my arm again and spins me around to face him, but I turn my head away, refusing to meet his eyes. “Look at me, beautiful.”
I take my time, but finally give in.
“Don’t be pissed. This was nice, and you’re a sweet girl. As much as I liked being your first kiss, I’m not the kind of man for you. Surely you know that, right? Hell, your father would kill me if he found out—or try, anyway.”
I lay a palm on his leather vest, feeling the patches under my skin. He covers my hand. His head stays tipped down, but his eyes lift to mine, and in them I see the same desire I feel reflected back at me. As much as he’d like to pretend, he’s as affected by me as I am by him. I may not know much about men, but even I can read that much in his expression.
He brushes the hair from my face, his big hand calloused and yet somehow so gentle. “Luisa, I—” he begins.
But I cut him off. “Guess we’ll never know if you’re the kind of man for me or not, will we, Blue?” With that, I hurry down the lane toward the music, tears in my eyes. I blink them away, swearing I won’t waste them on a man who doesn’t believe I’m worth the chance.
I hear his footsteps behind me, staying close, and when I get to the tent and glance back, he’s stopped on the edge of the patio.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, but his eyes remain on me. He’s giving me time to return without being seen with him. I suppose in a way he’s looking out for me, or perhaps it’s his own skin he’s worried about.
We lock eyes for one final time, and he winks at me. It shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. That wink says so much. We share a secret.
When I return to my friends, they surround me.
“What happened?” Ramona hisses.
“Where’s the man you were with?” Carmen asks, craning her neck toward the entrance. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re about to cry. Did he hurt you?” Ramona demands.
“No, he didn’t hurt me, but he wasn’t happy when he found out I was only seventeen.”
“Why in the world did you tell him that?” Carmen hisses.
“I didn’t.” I search the crowd and find the table where his club sits. “That woman over there did.”
The three of them exchange a look, and I know immediately they know something.
“What?” I demand.
