“A tattooed, unsteadily employed musician. Doesn’t sound much like Graci’s style. But she does seem happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.” He abandoned the engine and leaned against the car, facing Tara. “You think it’s serious, then? Like marriage serious? Graci just got out of an almost two-year engagement.”
“I know. The timing’s not great, but she seems to feel like Neal’s the one.”
Luis snorted and shook his head. “The one. Does anyone still believe that crap? You girls read too many fairy tales.”
Tara put her hand to her chest. “Hey, it’s not me saying it. That’s Graci’s thing. She’s way more traditional than I am. I believe a person can have a number of legitimate relationships in their lives. I know I’ve had a few.”
“I think my sister was always a little starry-eyed.” He cocked his head and studied Tara. “Not you, though. You looked at the world as it was and liked it anyway, and you always seemed so happy. That’s what I liked about you.”
Tara dipped her head and fanned her face in mock humility. “Go ahead. Tell me more wonderful things about me.”
“You’re a good kisser.”
Her face burned as she blushed in earnest. “Oh, hell no. You are not going there.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” He twisted the greasy rag he held between his hands. “Graci’s quinceanera. That was one weird night.”
Tara winced at the recollection of the way she’d thrown herself at eighteen-year-old Luis. Bree had snuck a flask into the party, and Tara had drunk more than her share of it. After giving Graci advice about acting on her feelings for a boy she liked instead of waiting for him to notice her, Tara had boldly decided to take her own advice.
“You marched up to me like you were pissed about something,” Luis remembered. “Grabbed my arm and dragged me outside.”
“I didn’t drag you.”
“I remember dragging,” he teased, “and you throwing your arms around my neck and attacking me.”
“It was one kiss. I was a tipsy fifteen-year-old with a crush. Can you let it go now?”
“Not when it’s still so much fun to tease you about it.” His brown eyes sparkled. “Besides, as I remember, it was more than one kiss.”
“So, two kisses.”
“More like a series of kisses and some touching of inappropriate body parts before I came to my senses.”
“Then you shoved me, and I about fell on my ass.” Tara still winced at the humiliating memory. “You practically ran away.”
“Because I didn’t want to be accused of child molestation!”
“Oh, come on, Luis. You’re only a few years older. It wasn’t a crime.”
“I was already out of high school. You were barely fifteen. It felt like a crime. Besides, I had a hard-on like you wouldn’t believe,” he confessed.
She lifted an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “You did?”
“Oh yeah.” He folded his arms and kicked a toe against the concrete floor. “I thought about you after that, you know. More than I should have.”
Tara couldn’t help the little lift of her heart at that news. It would’ve been nice information to have about ten years ago when she was so embarrassed she wouldn’t even go over to the Ramirezes’ house anymore. It had taken Graci worrying that Tara was pissed at her about something to make Tara get over it. She couldn’t let her relationship with her best friend suffer because of one stupid incident, which would never be repeated and she would never tell Graci about.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you thought about that kiss,” she said. “Afterwards, you acted like nothing had happened.”
“We both did, which is how things eventually got back to normal—me baiting you, you teasing me. Sympatico.”
Tara smiled and watched Luis’s worn shoe scuffing patterns on the floor. “We always did have a good rhythm.” She took a breath. “Might be fun to find out how good. Do you still think you’re too old for me?”
She looked into his face, and his smoking hot gaze burned into her like a laser. Her sex clenched hard, and she caught her breath. Only a few yards of space separated them. He could cross that distance in a couple of strides. And when exactly had she slipped off that shaky stool so she was standing instead of sitting?
“Not too old,” Luis said. “But too much like your big brother. Don’t you think it would be weird?”
“Maybe.” Weirdly hot!
“And anyway, don’t you have a date you’re late for?”
She waved a hand, dismissing Dre. He wasn’t her boyfriend and their relationship didn’t work that way. He might just as easily get caught up in something and stand her up. It had happened before.
“I told you, Dre and I are friends. Casual friends,” she amended.
Good Lord, one of her shoes had taken a step toward Luis without her permission. Damned if she’d be the one to make the first move again after ten years. She had some pride after all. If Luis was honestly interested, let him be the one to—
Suddenly, he stood right in front of her, his gaze nearly level with hers. Luis had never been tall. She liked that she didn’t have to tip her head back much to be able to meet his eyes. She’d never before noticed the light flecks in his dark brown eyes, or how extraordinarily thick his lashes were.
“Casual friends, huh? Well, you and I are old friends,” he said, “so I guess it would be okay to do this.” He touched her face, just the tips of his fingers grazing her cheek, leaving little trails of heat. His attention focused on her mouth, and he leaned in.
Tara closed her eyes and parted her lips. Of all the turns this day could have taken, she never would have guessed this one. An earthquake or lightning strike couldn’t have been more unexpected, although honestly, this felt a little bit like both of those. A slight tremor and buzz of electricity passed through her as Luis’s mouth covered hers. Soft and warm, his lips pressed briefly against hers, leaving behind a tingling impression.
That was it? Just one kiss? Just enough to make her lean in for more?
Tara opened her eyes to see Luis’s face close up, the smooth brown skin marred by a scar she didn’t remember him having before above one eye, the upward tilt of his eyebrows that gave him a permanently quizzical expression, the eyes that regarded her with nearly as much surprise as she felt.
“This is probably a really bad idea,” he said, and then he pulled her against him fast and hard and really kissed her.
Tara stumbled into him. His arms caught and held her, his chest solid beneath her palms, his mouth hot as he stole away her breath. His tongue swept over hers, invited it to dance, and Tara responded as playfully. She let her body go, melting against him, and sliding her hands up around the back of his thick neck. Her passion matched his as she kissed Luis with the fervor of a fifteen-year-old girl’s first crush and the skill of the woman she’d become.
A lot of time and a number of lovers had come and gone since she’d secretly pined for her best friend’s brother, but all in a moment, those memories and feelings came rushing back. Her breasts ached softly, longing for more stimulation than being mashed against his chest, and her pussy felt wet and slippery, open to an invitation. It wouldn’t take much to move from a few simple kisses to her lying spread-eagled on the hood of her car. She craved way more than his kisses, and that was…alarming and unacceptable.
Tara pulled back with a gasp at the same moment Luis suddenly released her, and for the second time in their history together, she lost her balance and nearly fell on her ass.
Luis shot out a hand and grabbed her arm to steady her. When she regained her equilibrium, he immediately let go. “Sorry about that. Uh, maybe I’d better just work on your car now.”
“Mm,” Tara agreed. “Well, now, we did that, so we can mark it off our bucket lists. Something we both always wondered about. Now it’s done.”
“Yep,” he said succinctly, then dove back under her hood to finish replacing the battery or alternator or whatever the hell he was doing.
Tara stooped to pick up her jacket, which had fallen off the stool, and put it on. She took her phone out of her purse. “I’ve got to make a call and use the restroom.”
“Over there.” Luis pointed without looking at her.
Inside the tiny, dirty room, Tara took a moment to splash her face and dismiss all fantasies about garage sex that she might be entertaining. She refocused her mind on Dre—hot, sexy, hulking Dre with the mammoth muscles and the simple personality. He was just what she needed tonight to release her sexual tension and drag her back from the edge of whatever weirdness she’d started to stir up with Luis.
Why not Luis? an insidious voice enquired. Tara had to firmly remind it that he was still one of her best friend’s brothers, and that somehow made him off-limits. But why? the voice demanded like a sulky child.
Because that’s just the way it is, Tara offered as an unsatisfying answer. Too much potential drama lay in that direction. It wasn’t worth it.
After she dialed, Tara stared at her reflection in the streaked mirror and rubbed at a grease smudge on her cheek, left behind from Luis’s fingers. She swore she could still feel their heat imprinted on her face.
“Hey, baby, what’s up? You still coming?” Dre’s deep voice rumbled. “’Cause if you are, I will.” He paused then added, “Make you come, I mean.”
“Yeah. I got that.” Tara shook her head. Dre could never let a punch line lie. He always had to make sure she “got it.”
The smudge on her cheek was nearly gone now, and Dre was there for the taking. All she had to do was tell him she’d be right over. So, why did it feel like she was somehow poised at an intersection, trying to decide which direction to go? Her love life didn’t need to be that complicated.
The last few times she’d “fallen in love,” those relationships had ended badly, and she’d vowed to avoid drama in her life and embrace easy hookups. Dre was the easiest.
“My car’s almost done. I’ll be there in twenty,” she promised.
Chapter Three
“Ladies, I’ve been missing you like crazy! I can’t wait for all of us to be together again. We’ll have the baddest bachelorette bash LA has ever witnessed,” Bree gushed. She combed her fingers through her long blonde hair, a habit as familiar as her blue eyes and unblemished skin. Even in high school, the girl had never had an issue with acne.
Teen Barbie, Tara used to taunt whenever Bree got to be too much to take. But she’d learned early on that Bree had hidden depths. She wasn’t completely the sunny Princess Sparkle she appeared to be. She’d revealed a few truths to Tara that to this day Tara didn’t think the others knew.
“You tell me some of the things you want to do, and I’ll plan it all,” Corinne promised.
Graci hadn’t been able to attend this convo, and Adya was still out of commission, a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Bree, Corinne, and Tara made a uniquely contrasting Brady Bunch of squares as they video-chatted from separate sites; Corinne’s dark shiny hair and exotic eyes, courtesy of her Korean heritage, Bree’s sun-streaked blonde hair and blue eyes, and Tara’s coffee-colored skin and mass of black braids.
As different as each of them might look or approach life, these women were almost sisters. Time and distance might separate the group, but when they spoke again, the banter and teasing, the easy familiarity resumed.
Tara interrupted the party plans to focus on the aspect she found more interesting. “So, Bree, you’re really in love. Tell us about Tony. How’d you meet?”
“On the set of Fallow Fields. It’s coming out in the fall. You should see it. The film’s gorgeous. It’s sort of a Capra-esque tale of the heroics of small-town life.” Bree rushed on. “Anyway, as the cinematographer, Tony weighed in on my costumes. Let me tell you. I hated the man. We argued about colors, fabrics, my style choices, and how they would look in the overall picture he was trying to create.”
She laughed. “At the end of three days of conferences and compromises, he asked me on a date. I gave him a ‘fuck you’ for vetoing my favorite design, but said yes to the date. Outside of work, we’re as smooth as silk and satin. He’s my—you guys are going to laugh to hear me say this but—he’s my soul mate. My other half, you know? I truly believe it. I’ve never felt like this before.”
Corinne’s eyes squinted as she clasped her hands together at her chin. “That’s so sweet!” she exclaimed with utter sincerity.
Tara pretended to gag. “Sooo sweet,” she echoed. “But seriously, Bree, I’m happy for you and wish you years of bliss.”
“Does this mean Michael Knox is free to be my husband?” Corinne asked, referring to her and Bree’s girlhood feud over a boy band singer. “I mean, since the HeartThrobs disbanded and he’s gone through rehab and become a minister of some sort, I think he and I are finally ready to meet and marry.”
Bree burst out laughing, throwing her head back and letting out a peal of joy that no one could hear without smiling too. “OMG, I’d forgotten all about us fighting over the absolute hottest of the Throbs, and who got to ‘have’ him. Yes, Corinne, I give you my blessing and any stock I may have had in that has-been singer.” She smiled. “God, I’ve missed you guys. Now if we can just get Adya to come for the wedding, everything will be perfect.”
“I’ll be working on that too,” Corinne promised. “After I visit you next week, I’m flying up to Seattle to check in on her. Find out what the scoop is.”
“Fantastic. I’d do it myself, but I absolutely can’t get away from work right now,” Bree said. “At least we know she’s not dead, since she sent that text to all of us, but I can tell something’s up.”
“We all can,” Tara agreed. “If I wasn’t so broke, I’d fly out with you, Corinne. Right now I can hardly afford to pay the Ramirez brothers for fixing my car.”
A hot flash, and not the menopause kind, shot through her at the memory of the other night in the garage, the quietness and sense of intimacy between her and Luis—alone in that big empty space, their shared memory, and the kisses that followed. Over the past few days, she’d done her best to wipe it from her mind. Hooking up with Dre for a few hours of athletic sex that same evening had helped. But after she’d returned home, it had been Luis she thought of in bed that night.
“How’s work going, Tara?” Bree asked. “Anything new to report?”
“They hired a new cook at the restaurant. He sucks, and they’re losing patrons. Don’t know how long I’ll be working there.”
“I meant your other job.”
“We’re rehearsing a new drama at the Sonic, written by a local playwright. I have a chorus part in that. And I just did a gig for Mattress Town. That’s about it.”
“Don’t forget the vegetable thing,” Corinne chimed in. “Tara might be the new face of Nature’s Goodness soups.”
“Um. I forgot to tell you. That didn’t really pan out.” Actually, Tara hadn’t wanted to text the news. For some reason, a disappointment just wasn’t as much fun to announce as a success.
“You should come out here with Corinne,” Bree said. “I can send you a ticket. That way you can check out the scene and see what you think. I know your dream was always Broadway, but Hollywood has more acting opportunities, plus you’d have a place to stay out here. Tony’s house is huge and has a guest cottage. I’d love having you stay with me.”
Tara had to admit, it did sound good. An expenses-paid trip and a possible future away from Cincinnati. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so resistant to Bree’s pleas for her to come to LA up to now. Maybe it had something to do with how badly burned Tara had been by New York. Dreams go poof and Tara slinks home with her tail between her legs, spanked by the Big Apple. She’d hoped her hometown would prove friendlier, even if the opportunities were sparse, and to some extent, it had. She now had several acting credentials under her belt, some commercials, voice-overs, and plays. At least she had something professional to put on a résumé. Maybe now was the time to see if she could tackle Hollywood.
“
I’ll think about it,” she promised. “I could get someone to cover my shifts at the restaurant, but I do have responsibilities at the theater. I can’t simply walk out on rehearsals.”
“Only for a couple of days. You’ve got to come with me, Tara. It would be so much fun! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” Corinne said. “And Graci too, if she wants, although I suppose she can’t get off work now and again for the wedding.”
“I’ll think about it,” Tara repeated, and her two old friends knew her well enough to leave it at that.
***
Tara held her position, arms flung dramatically toward the sky, as the lead actors spoke their dialogue in front of her. The perks of being in the chorus—few or no lines to learn. The disadvantages—scenes where you were so much window dressing, either holding a tableau pose or making silent small talk while reacting to the main action. Both tasks were harder than they appeared. The audience didn’t notice you if you did it right, but all eyes judged if you messed up.
Sweat trickled down her forehead into her eyes. An itch on the back of her head drove her nuts, and then her calf began to cramp. But she was a professional, so she maintained her pose, not so much as blinking while her fingers went bloodless and numb from being held above her head for so long.
And then her phone began to sing in her back pocket. I can’t get no. Satisfaction. Damn! She never forgot to either turn it off or, at the very least, put it on vibrate. That was common theater etiquette that even a novice performer would know. She reached for the phone and hurriedly shut it off. Meanwhile, all heads turned toward her.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“Well, since Miss Rambeaugh has disrupted everyone’s concentration and apparently has more important concerns than acting, I suppose now is as good a time as any to take five.” The squirrelly director stared at her with beady eyes. A few cast members glared too.
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