Penelope orders a blackberry margarita like she’s been waiting for it all day. Eloise asks for one too.
“Just a soda for me please, Claudia.”
Pitstop nods in approval, like maybe she appreciates the fact I’m not drinking anything while I’m her designated driver.
Plus, it doesn’t matter what I get points for, I want to collect them all. I’m determined, I’m going to melt the ice queen’s heart and show her that for every reason she has for hating me there are half a dozen reasons why she should love me.
Ares orders a mockolada—a piña colada mocktail—his commitment to his sobriety is so impressive.
“You’re super tall.” It’s Ares who takes the first shot when Claudia leaves us for a moment to decide on our food selections.
“You mean, for a woman, right? I’m only a few inches shorter than Tate, probably the same height as you.” She jerks her chin at our goaltender.
“Touché. You’re super tall, for a woman.”
“That’s quite the observation there, Ares. They don’t get much past you, do they?” She grins.
“Not when I’m on form.” He shakes his head. “Are we allowed to ask how you two met?”
“I threatened to beat him with my taco.”
It’s a vastly different account of whatactuallyhappened, so much so, I can’t help but laugh.
“Halloween party,” she continues. “I had a giant taco on my head.”
Ares groans. “Amigo, you didn’t compliment her taco.” He holds up his hand. “Don’t answer, I know you well enough to know the answer already.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “She didn’t fall for it. It’s taken her a year to agree to date me.”
Eloise’s eyes spring wide with curiosity, but she doesn’t say anything. And when Claudia returns, we order damn near everything on the menu. Their guacamole is state renowned, so we order a bucket of that with their trio of salsas. There are nine kinds of tacos on the menu, and we ask for an order of each of them.
I can’t wait to try the ancho mushroom one, it’s new, and I haven’t yet had the pleasure.
Eloise asks for the crispy cauliflower bites, they’re buttermilk-battered florets, with roast jalapeño aioli. My mouth waters when I read the description, so we get two.
We also get two orders of sweet patatas bravas. Though my girl goes back on what she said and offers to share with Eloise. I guess it’s Vagina Privilege or something. I’m pretty sure ifItouched those potatoes she’d stab me, just as she said.
Ares thanks Claudia, hands over our menus, and we get back to chatting. I haven’t yet told Penelope that he’s probably going to comp the food at the end of the meal. I have a feeling she’s ready to fight me to pay for her share—despite the fact this is a date, and she should just let me pay for her damn potatoes—she’s in for a shock when she discovers it’s Ares, not me, she has to battle with.
I can’t wait.
The meal is exceptional, as always. And when Abuelita de la Peña comes out with giant slabs of her tres leches cake, I have to get up and hug her. She grabs me by the cheeks and squeezes. “You’re too skinny, Tate. You’ve been gone too long. Abuelita needs to fatten you up.” She pinches my stomach making Pitstop giggle.
“All bones.” Abuelita tuts. “Nieto, this is no good.” She scolds Ares who shakes his head.
By the time we get back to the cars, the girls have a warm buzz from blackberry margaritas. Eloise and Penelope hug so hard they look like they might stop breathing. “Let’s do this again, okay?” Eloise wags a finger at me. “Get her home safe.”
I toss her a playful salute. “Yes ma’am.”
We’ve had a delightful evening together, so much so I’m using words like delightful. And when I open the car door to let Penelope climb inside, I’m half-afraid she’s hiding a shiv up her sleeve. It’s all been beyond civil, amicable even, and the whole way back to the dorm room I toss cautious glances her way like she’s a cobra ready to strike.
CHAPTER 13
Penelope
Tate keeps looking over at me like he’s expecting me to lurch for his jugular. It’s a little funny. Okay, it’s a lot funny. But I have to admit, I had a really nice time with Ares, Eloise, and as much as I’m loath to admit it, even Tate. It was a great meal, with a lot of fun. And the first-date butterflies even graced me with their presence as I stared across the table at my handsome, hockey-playingdate.
And those margaritas were... chef’s kiss.
