by Webster, K.
I drag a chair across the aged tiled floor, loving how the loud sound rankles her. She can’t help but look at me now. Her gaze roams up my bare, sweaty abs and along my chest before she settles her heated brown eyes on mine.
“What are you doing?” Her shiny lip curls up.
“Brought a peace offering.” I set the chip basket on top of the other one and then unscrew the lid to the Corralejo. “Drink?”
“Pass,” she grumbles, but based on the way she eyes the bottle, she needs a drink. “I’d wanted Hennessy or Chardonnay but apparently that request just gets you laughed at.”
I pour some into her empty glass before doing the same for both Kyle and Estefania. “We’re simple around here. What can I say?” I smirk at her. “So, what’s everyone up to?”
“We are three friends talking about—” Estefania starts but gets cut off by Sheridan.
“Idiot pilots.”
“Someone say my name?” Carter asks, pulling up a chair and sitting next to me.
I take a swig of the Corralejo straight from the bottle and pass it to him. “We’re outnumbered and not wanted here.”
Carter snorts. “Nonsense. Everyone loves a pilot.”
“They are handsome,” Estefania tries, making Kyle laugh softly.
“I’m more of a seaman lover myself,” Sheridan says, lifting her chin primly.
Carter chokes on his tequila and Kyle’s face blushes. Estefania’s eyes widen.
I grin at Sheridan and lean in. “Seaman? You’re a seaman lover?”
The ice that seems permanently formed around Sheridan’s being suddenly cracks. I notice the exact moment she realizes her error.
“Oh my…” she trails off, her neck blazing crimson. “I meant…well, I meant exactly what I said, but you children can’t behave!”
“We are behaving,” I argue with a laugh. “You’re the one telling us how much you love seamen.”
“I mean a man with a boat, you idiot,” she hisses, but her brown eyes are alight with amusement.
“I’m a man with many boats who also loves semen,” Damian crows as he prances up to us and plops down in my lap. He waggles his sculpted brows at me. “Oh, honey, is that an anchor in your pocket or are you happy to see—”
I playfully push him out of my lap. “Apparently, our abejita here loves seamen, not semen.”
“You’re a lesbian?” Damian asks, his face totally serious. “That explains a lot.”
“Wait,” Carter interjects. “Explains what? How does that explain anything?”
“I’m not a lesbian,” Sheridan grumbles.
Carter scratches his head. “I’m still wondering what makes you think Sherrie is into chicks. I mean, I know I didn’t misread the way she checks out my boy—”
“I most certainly do not check out your boy,” Sheridan huffs. “And it’s Sheridan, not Sherrie.”
“Sherrie-dan was not looking at the handsome pilot’s glorious abs,” Estefania chimes in, coming to her rescue, miffed on her behalf.
“Glorious abs, huh?” I ask, flashing Sheridan a crooked smile.
She rolls her eyes and sips her tequila. “Nothing I haven’t seen before and certainly nothing special. And I’ve seen a lot of abs because I like boys and not girls.”
“Girl, same,” Damian cheers out, holding his hand out for a high-five. “Even if you are a female Autobot—”
“What’s an Autobot?” Lawton asks, joining the growing fray of crazies.
“Metal robot. Basically a good guy, but kind of scary and hella tough,” Damian explains. “You ever seen Transformers?”
When Lawton says he hasn’t seen Transformers, Damian squeals and launches into a detailed explanation of his “favorite movies ever.” Kyle tattles and whispers that his favorite movie ever is Moulin Rouge, but no one calls Damian out. I’m chuckling as they drag another table over.
“I’m a good guy?” Sheridan mutters, her brows knitting together in confusion.
My smile is wiped from my face as I stare at her. For one brief second, her wall is down. She’s not sad or pissed. She’s lost. In unfamiliar territory. Desperately needing a lifeline.
I poke the proverbial bear to remind her she has claws.
The girl needs to be fierce in order to survive the world she’s created for herself.
“A good guy with good lips.” I smirk at her as I rake my gaze down her front. “And good tit—”
She tosses her drink at me. As soon as the tequila hits my eyes, I howl. Fuck. It burns. Holy shit. I totally deserved that, but still.
“Oh my God,” Sheridan cries out. “I forgot this wasn’t Sprite.”
My eyes are watering, and I can’t see, so I rub at them. Delicate hands grip my wrists. Everyone is laughing or talking over each other. It’s chaos and I can’t even see.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sheridan hisses, pulling me up and out of my chair. “Come on.”
Blindly, I follow my abuser to my death. Or the bathroom at Eddie’s, which may as well be death with how stifling hot and cramped it is inside. Like a hot coffin in hell.
“Lean over so we can rinse your eyes out,” she sasses.
“I can’t believe you blinded me, woman.”
“That’ll teach you to gape at my boobs.”
“They’re nice boob—”
She grabs a handful of my hair and pushes me toward the sink. “Hush.”
“You’re a mean little thing. I changed my mind,” I mutter. “Not a good guy. You’re the villain, abejita.”
“Villains always have cool cars,” she tosses back, splashing the lukewarm water in my face.
“What kind of car does my villain have?”
“I’m not your villain.”
“This is my story. You’re in it. You’re mine.”
She huffs, but it lacks her usual fire. “I have a pearl-white Jaguar F-Type.”
“Does it go fast?”
“Really fast.”
“Do you like to go fast?” I peek at her now that my eyes aren’t burning so much.
“I like to get there in one piece.”
I turn off the sink and rise to my full height. I love how she has to crane her neck up to see me. In the small space, she doesn’t have much room to escape. “You ever just enjoy the ride? Roll down the windows and let the wind mess up your hair a little?”
Her brows crash together. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I…because…I…” She sighs. “I don’t know.”
“I like your lips.”
She parts them. “I thought you liked my boobs.”
“I like those too,” I tell her with a smug grin. “I like a lot of things about you. Apparently I have a thing for villains.”
“I’m the good guy,” she tells me primly. “Damian already said so. You can’t change the rules.”
“Oh, I don’t change the rules.” I lift my hand and gently drag my thumb along her cheek. Her eyelashes flutter. Then, I reach back and tug on her hair tie. “I break them.”
She squeals in fury when I steal her hair tie and back out of the bathroom. I can feel her fire behind me as she follows. When I look over my shoulder to smirk at her, I’m caught off guard.
Blazing brown eyes.
Now messy chocolate-colored hair.
Pink cheeks from anger.
Fucking beautiful.
Damn.
A hurricane may be coming, but we have a storm right here with us. I’m struck in a single moment that makes my heart beat too fast in my chest that this girl is going to obliterate me.
Time to batten down the hatches and let her do her worst.
I’ve always wanted to ride a storm.
Sheridan
I’m warm.
Too warm.
It’s not because of the idiot pilot half naked and dancing. It’s from the tequila and the lack of air conditioning in this hot-ass restaurant. Definitely not the way he moves his hips.
Oh my God.
“I would
destroy that boy in bed,” Damian reveals, whispering loudly. “Absolutely wreck him.”
Camilo, totally oblivious, continues shaking his nice ass in his obnoxious yellow swim trunks. His back is muscular and tanned and sculpted with a black crow tattooed on it.
If I were a single girl like Estefania, I would totally get drunk enough to have sex with him. Totally. But I’m not a free bird, I am a Reid girl. I’m a tiger and I eat little crows like him for dinner.
“Those shorts ought to be outlawed,” Damian hisses, poking my arm. “You can see everything, honey.”
Oh my God.
Warmth blooms across my chest and up my throat. You can most definitely tell he’s packing something monstrously wonderful in his shorts. With every thrust of his hips to the music, we get a little preview.
I suck down my Sprite, er tequila, and try not to drool. After our little fight and subsequent bathroom encounter, I’ve tried to stay away from Camilo. He’s been dancing and talking and laughing. Terrorizing everyone in the near vicinity. Though they seem amused and entertained by him, especially Carter. They’re two obnoxious, hot as sin peas in a pod.
“Since you’re not a lez, you totally should ride that Mexican cowboy. If you don’t, I’m gonna borrow one of Estefania’s dresses and make that happen.” Damian sighs. “Lord, look at those buns.”
Above the music playing from an old jukebox, I can hear the wind picking up. A prickle of worry washes over me. I haven’t exactly waited for a tropical storm to hit before. I’m supposedly in the path of one and Daddy’s not even here to assure me everything will be okay.
Thinking about Daddy makes me think about David.
Smart. Educated. Rich. Brilliant.
Boring.
I cringe at that thought. David’s not boring. He knows a lot about architecture and historical stories and wine. He once explained to me over dinner the importance of farmers in a booming technological world. David is interesting.
We’ve kissed a few times, mostly when he’s had a little too much wine.
The one time we had sex, I’d been thrilled. It was sloppy and over quick. I’d been a little disappointed, but Daddy didn’t raise a quitter. I figured it would get better with age. The next morning he surprised me with room service before driving me home. It wasn’t awkward after. I didn’t think about how I wanted passion and heat and love but was given three minutes of sweaty thrusting. It was the wine. The next morning, my David was charismatic and a gentleman.
But not my boyfriend.
I try not to let that bother me. I really do. He’s a busy man. Simply needs a little nudging in the female department, I think.
“Oh hell no,” Damian grumbles. “Mexican Barbie is mackin’ on your man!”
Mexican Barbie?
I glance over at Estefania, but she’s in deep conversation with Lawton and Kyle. The restaurant is now full of people who seem to be very familiar with one another. The Barbie in question is prowling over to Camilo. A little burst of jealousy shoots up my spine.
Jealousy.
No way.
But as I stare at the way she dances smoothly to the music, her dark brown hair swaying with her hips that are wrapped in a tight dress, I do feel irritated. He smiles at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not like when he smiles at me.
Triumph fills me.
“I’ve got you, boo,” Damian whispers, playfully tugging at my hair before standing. “Girlfriends have to have each other’s backs.”
Oh no.
He prances—yes, he prances like a runway diva—right in between Camilo and the beautiful woman. Once he’s at the jukebox, he bends over and wriggles his bubble butt as he chooses a song.
Two seconds later, “Lola” by The Kinks starts its familiar guitar twang. Damian, already falling into the character of Lola, starts dancing toward Camilo. He bats his lashes at Camilo and gives him the come-hither look.
“Cuervo is a great dancer,” the cook says to me, patting a meaty hand on my shoulder as he starts clearing off the table of empty glasses. “I taught him when I was wooing his mother, though he’ll argue it.”
Cuervo.
My attention is drawn back to the way Lola tries to seduce her man just like in the song. Camilo is a good sport and laughs, matching her antics with his own. They dance well together, both their hips moving in tandem with the beat of the song. Their silliness and over-the-top singing and dancing is…refreshing.
Not the word I was looking for, but it’s true.
Daddy or David wouldn’t be caught dead dancing with Damian, who’s barely held together by expensive spandex. Yet, Camilo is on his knees, just like the guy in the song, singing to his Lola. Carter is riling everyone up and cheering them on. Estefania’s giggles poke their way right into my heart that I thought had long been hardened.
Lola does some fancy little dance move that makes her junk bounce and I lose it. I just lose it. A laugh bubbles up. Then another one. I can’t stop it and it feels so foreign. Tears well in my eyes as I fight for control. When Estefania realizes I’m laughing, she starts to cackle even harder.
The song finishes all too soon and Lola gives Camilo a big smooch. Camilo squirms, but Lola’s a man after all, and easily steals the kiss he wanted. Camilo swats him away, grinning. His nearly black eyes latch on to mine and something shifts in the air. I blame the change in barometric pressure, which is all Rodrigo’s fault. Regardless, Camilo makes his way over to me, no longer interested in the pretty brunette who was moments ago trying to make conversation.
“You should put on a shirt,” I tell him, only mildly irritated I can see all his glorious abs as Estefania puts it. Good God are they glorious.
“You should take yours off.”
“Ass.”
He smirks, flexing his pectorals. “I prefer ace.”
Cocky asshole.
Our arguing is cut short as the cook gets everyone’s attention. It’s then I realize he’s set up a long table nearby with all sorts of pans of food. I don’t do buffets. Ew. But, damn does it look good. My stomach, because of the heavenly smells, has been growling for an hour.
Damian comes up behind me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and leans in to whisper, “Totally saved you, girl. You owe me one.”
“Henry,” Doris says, walking up to us. “Son, that pink is bright.”
Damian whines, because he clearly doesn’t like being remembered as this woman’s son. “Bright is the new black.”
“What?” she yells.
“I said—” Damian starts, but she cuts him off as she whispers loudly to the bitchy maid from earlier.
“That’s my son Henry. He’s a great dancer. Takes after my Dale.”
The maid smiles warmly at her. “And that’s my son, Camilo. He learned how to dance from my Eduardo.”
The two begin talking and I dart my eyes to Camilo. His mom is the bitchy maid? Of course she is.
“Your mom’s the maid and your dad’s the cook?” I ask, frowning.
His lip curls up. “Eduardo isn’t my dad.”
I note his suddenly pissy attitude as he stands and stalks over to the buffet table. Eduardo, with his big mustache, proudly explains all the dishes. He keeps swiping the sweat off his brow with a filthy kitchen rag and I want to gag.
No way in hell I’m eating that food.
Don’t they have health inspectors around here?
I watch as Camilo goes through the line, now cheerfully chatting it up with Carter. I guess I was the cause of his bad mood. After he has an obscenely high pile of food on his plate, he walks back over to me.
“Come, abejita.” He sets the heaping plate in front of me.
“I beg your pardon—”
“It’ll be a long night if you don’t put some food in your stomach with the way you’ve been sucking the Corralejo down. Eat, little bee.”
My stomach grumbles angrily, arguing the case along with him. Finally, I give in and take an exaggerated bite of a taco. As soon as the flavor hits my to
ngue, I moan. Oh my God, it’s the best taco I’ve ever tasted. I shoot Camilo a surprised look, but he’s already headed back up to make himself a plate.
“This is going straight to my ass,” Damian says as he sits beside me. “The world can thank me later. This bootylicious booty doesn’t come without effort. Right, Kyle? Kyle!”
His normally exasperated assistant is in line, smiling at Estefania. He seems like a nice kid, so I’ll allow it. But if he looks at her wrong, I’ll go give that boy the what for.
“You’re hissing,” Damian says. “Is it because the lioness in heat is stalking our sexy Mexi in the buffet line?”
It takes me a second to decode all his confusing lingo.
Then, I zero in on the girl from before. She has her palm on Camilo’s back, turning her head up to talk to him. I don’t like the way she looks at him, which is stupid considering I have no claim on him. I don’t even like him.
Definitely don’t like him.
“If Kyle messes with Estefania, I’ll make him regret the day he ever met me.” I smile sweetly at Damian.
Rather than being shocked, he cackles. “Perhaps you’re a Decepticon.”
“A what?”
“Villain, honey. You’ve got villain eyes.”
At least the villains have cool cars.
Camilo
I manage to avoid Ramona through dinner. I’d been oddly thankful for Damian rescuing me from her, even if he did make me dance and rubbed his spandex body on me. Still better than having to talk to Ramona. There’s nothing particularly wrong with the girl, but there’s nothing right, either. She’s a local who sometimes helps out at the hotel during our busy seasons.
A local I’ve taken to bed a few times while in town.
The last time, she got clingy and I decided to cut ties. Mediocre sex isn’t worth having some girl obsess over you and start hinting at shit like a relationship. I don’t have time for relationships. I fuck and fly. The end.
I’d love nothing more than to take Sheridan to bed with me, though. She puts up this hard-ass front, but I bet I could get her to melt under my touch. I’d wipe that sour look off her face while I licked the sweetness between her thighs…