by Sabrina Sol
Fury boiled from Amara’s head to her toes. It took everything she had not to yell back. Not because she was a coward, but because she knew it wouldn’t change anything. Her mother was right. It was her parents’ bakery. Amara only worked there.
She gritted her teeth. “Whatever you say, Mom.”
Consuelo didn’t respond. There was no need. That was the only answer she would’ve accepted anyway. She walked into the pantry, took the box of salt, and left out the back door. After she was sure her mother wasn’t coming back, Amara ran to the front and pulled Daisy away from the stack of tortillas she was pretending to fix.
“I need your help,” she told her.
“I don’t know, Amara. I mean, I totally support what you’re trying to do here but tia Consuelo scares me. A lot.”
“No, I don’t mean help with the bakery. I mean help with Eric.”
“Eric? What are you talking about?”
“You were right. I want Eric. I just didn’t want to admit it because that would mean admitting that I’m not going after him because of my parents and everyone else. Well, I’m sick of other people telling me what I can or can’t do with my life.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand.”
“I want you to help me seduce him.”
Daisy hooted and then pulled her into a big bear hug. You would’ve thought she’d given her permission to sleep with him herself.
“I love a challenge,” Daisy sang as she did a celebratory dance around the bakery.
“Ouch,” Amara replied.
“Sorry, prima. I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t need a huge makeover or anything like that. He’s already interested. Trust me, I know these things,” she added when Amara opened her mouth to argue. “He’s standing at the edge of the pool. All he needs is the sign from you that it’s okay to jump in.”
“But I already told him to jump in and sometimes he does but then immediately jumps right back out,” she explained. “How can I get him to get over whatever it is that’s making him stay away?”
Daisy shrugged. “Simple. Make it completely and utterly impossible for him not to give in to the temptation that is you. And if that still doesn’t work, there’s one trick us women have been using for centuries to get a man to fall to his knees.”
“And what’s that?”
“Get another man to do it first. In other words, make him jealous.”
Five hours later, Amara looked at herself in the small bathroom mirror and examined her newly cut bangs. Daisy had called her stylist and gotten Amara an appointment that same day. The salon had been fancier than the Supercuts she’d been going to for her regular trims. So she’d expected to pay a little more. But eighty-five dollars to cut less than two inches of her hair seemed a little ridiculous. Still, she had to admit she liked the way her new expensive bangs framed her face. Besides the trip to the salon, Daisy had also ordered Amara to go shopping and to come back to the bakery with some new outfits, shoes, and jewelry sets. Luckily, she’d approved all of her purchases and then left to go buy herself a pair of heels that Amara had found on sale.
She planned to show off her new haircut and her new “butt-popping” jeans (Daisy’s words) to Eric when she paid him a visit later that night. She even had the perfect excuse. Last night, she had baked a special surprise for his abuela. Even now she smiled, thinking about the expression on his face when she showed him what she’d made.
Hopefully, the night would work out to be as perfect as she had planned. Her parents were going to have dinner with Trina, since Miguel was working late and, as of yesterday, she was officially overdue. Poor Trina. She’d become Consuelo’s new project and Amara knew her mom was pulling out all the stops to ensure what she thought was her rightful place in the delivery room. That meant feeding and pampering Trina as much as Trina would let her. Amara figured she had at least three hours to implement her seduction plan. This phase included kissing. Lots of kissing.
Combining the cost of the ingredients for her extra baking projects and the cost of her handful of new clothes, plus the new bangs, Amara estimated her seduction of Eric totaled just over three hundred dollars. She’d almost reached the limit for her credit card. She could only afford to pay the minimum this month. It was the most she’d ever been in debt since her cupcake shop closed.
Seduction, it turned out, could be very expensive.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she told herself, “He’d better be worth it.”
Jingle, jingle.
She blew up a breath that rustled her bangs. “I’ll be right there,” she called out, hoping this customer would buy everything in the bakery so she could run home and get ready for tonight.
But the sight of Eric standing at the counter called for a change in plans.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” she told him back. He looked extra good to her. Something seemed different about him. It pulled her toward him as she came around the counter.
“Are you the only one here?” He moved closer.
“Yeah. Daisy just left, and the parents are heading over to Miguel and Trina’s.” Was it his hair? No. Was it his clothes? She didn’t think so.
He took another step toward her. “Oh, is she…?”
“In labor? No, not yet.” She studied him more. Something was definitely different. “Why are you here, Eric?”
What was it about him today that raised the tiny hairs along her arms?
“I came to see you. I needed to…” His voice trailed off as he studied her face. “Did you get a haircut?”
The heat rushed to her cheeks as she nodded. Bracing for his next words, Amara didn’t expect to feel his fingers brush some strands from her cheek. His touch left an exquisite sear along her skin and she ached for more.
He wants you, Amara. That’s what this is. Show him that you want him, too.
A few weeks ago, heck, even a few days ago, she’d try to make a joke in order to lighten the heaviness of the moment. Today, pure carnal lust overrode any lingering fear. She took a deep breath and walked past him to the front door. She lowered the shade on the window, turned the lock on the door, and then faced Eric.
“What are you doing?” he asked as she approached him.
“Giving you permission.”
“Permission for what?”
“To do what you came here to do.” This time, she reached out to touch him. His damp hair cooled her fingers as she threaded them through it.
“Goddamn it, Amara,” he groaned and closed his eyes. “I came here to tell you that we couldn’t kiss again but now all I can think about is kissing you again.”
She waited for him to touch her in return, but he didn’t. She was about to ask him what he was waiting for when the theme song to the movie Halloween started blasting from her pocket. She jerked her hand away.
Eric opened his eyes. “Your phone is ringing,” he finally said.
“I know.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
The ring tone alerted her to the very aggravating fact that it was her mother calling. Did she have some sort of Spidey-sense when it came to her daughter’s hormones? But she refused to let Consuelo ruin this moment.
The phone quieted.
“It’s just my mom. She’ll leave me a message. Now, you were saying something about kissing me?”
He opened his mouth but his own phone interrupted him. He glanced at the screen. “It’s your dad.”
And just as she was about to tell him to let it go to voicemail, the bakery’s phone started ringing, too.
Deep down she figured it was her mom again, but she couldn’t take a chance in case it was a customer. She jogged to the cash register and answered the black cordless phone sitting on the counter. “Robles Panaderia, how can I help you?” she asked, trying hard not to unveil the irritation and frustration prickling at her skin.
“Amara!” her mother shrieked. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I, uh, I
was helping a customer,” she lied. Across the room, Eric was on his own phone.
“Well, it’s time! It’s time! Trina is on her way to the hospital.”
“Oh my gosh! Is she okay? Is Miguel okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine. We’re driving her right now. But we left in such a hurry that we forgot her bag at the house. I need you to go there and pick it up and meet us at the hospital.”
“Right now?” She looked at Eric who had joined her at the counter.
“Yes, of course, right now. She needs her bag. Just close up the bakery and meet us at the hospital.”
“All right, I’m on my way.” The line clicked.
Eric had already hung up his phone. “Sounds like you’re about to become a tia.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Listen Eric…”
He put his hand up. “Your dad wants me to get some tarps from your garage. He says you have the key. Can I get that from you and I’ll give it back after you get back from the hospital?”
“Don’t you think we should talk?”
“No. I think you need to be with your family and I need to get those tarps.”
The coolness of his voice deflated her. If he’d been thinking about kissing her before, he sure as heck wasn’t now. And she wasn’t about to throw herself at him only to get rejected all over again. She grabbed her keys from her pocket and shook them at him. “I have no idea which key it is, plus their garage is like an episode of Hoarders. I’ll go with you.”
“Fine,” he said with a shrug.
“Fine,” she said.
As she left the bakery, all she could think of was how not fine things had suddenly become.
…
They said nothing as the crossed the street. Or as they walked up steps to the detached upper level garage located behind the Robles’ main house. He still didn’t know what had come over him back at the bakery. He’d been so close to giving in to his constant and unrelenting urges to take what she’d been trying to offer him.
Then he got the call from her dad. Like he told Amara, her dad had wanted him to get the tarps. But what he didn’t tell her was that her dad had also decided that he wanted the remodel done in two weeks.
It had been the reminder he needed that anything with Amara would only be temporary. He had to focus on getting his shit together. A good reference from Señor Robles could be just what he needed to get more jobs, which would lead to more money, and more connections to start his business back up. He had to keep it in his pants until he finished the bakery job.
Once they reached the top, he tried opening the padlock on the garage door with one key after another. “Your dad said they’re going to be staying at Miguel’s house for a few days and Daisy’s going to stay here with you?”
Amara scoffed. “Not if I can help it. Just because I’m chained to the bakery doesn’t mean she has to be.”
He heard a click and successfully turned the key until the padlock popped open. She helped him raise the rolling door. What he saw made him laugh.
“You were right. This is Hoarders.” The tiny one-car garage held no automobiles, but towers and towers of cardboard boxes, plastic tubs, and bursting garbage bags. It was…chaos. Luckily, the blue tarps he needed were near the front of the mess, folded neatly on a plastic lawn chair.
Amara rummaged through a cardboard box she’d somehow extracted from the cluttered mess. “Look what I found! It’s stuff from when Miguel was in high school!” As she thumbed through papers, Eric noticed his senior yearbook. He pulled it out of the box and they moved closer together to take a look. He opened it to a photo that showed him, Miguel, Trina, and Mariah at some rally.
“Look at how skinny he was,” said Amara, with a laugh. “Good thing he’s not that skinny anymore. I mean could you imagine if he had a baby back then? He wouldn’t even be able to carry it!”
Memories, painful ones, surged through Eric’s head. He shut the book and threw it back in the box.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes I forget, you know…” Her voice trailed off.
“That I was almost a dad,” he finished her sentence. He didn’t mean to sound so bitter, especially not to her. “It was a long time ago. It’s fine.”
“Do you ever think about it? I mean, the baby?”
A faded sense of loss tugged at his insides. He shrugged it away. “Not so much anymore. I mean I was sad when she lost it, but now I know that it was for the best. Besides I’m no one’s role model, right?”
He laughed but Amara didn’t look amused. “Why do you say things like that about yourself? You’re not that bad.”
“Yeah, that’s what you think.” He guided her out of the way so he could pull down the garage door and then handed her the keys.
“That’s what I know. You’ve made some mistakes, we all have. So what? Get over it.”
“It’s not that easy, Amara, especially when people around here like to remind me every chance they get.” He rolled the tarps under his arm and headed for the street.
“Why are you walking away from me?”
“I’m not walking away from you, I’m walking toward the bakery.” They made it to the bottom of the stairs in one piece. Not a small feat, considering he was practically running down them. Once it was safe to turn around, he looked at her. “Why is it so important to you whether I’m bad or good?”
“Because I think it’s time to forgive yourself and stop worrying about what others think of you.”
She touched his arm, probably to soothe him. It only reminded him that he couldn’t—shouldn’t—touch her back. Bitterness stung at his throat. He let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Really? This is the advice you’re giving me? Trust me, Amara. You don’t want to have this conversation.”
He darted across the street to get away from her before he said something he’d regret. His neck muscles tightened and his head pounded.
She’d forgotten to lock the door when they left so nothing stopped him from barreling into the bakery. He threw the tarps in the corner with his other supplies and spun back around, reaching for the door just as Amara pushed it open.
“You’re in my way,” he said.
She shook her head and crossed her arms. “I’m not moving until you tell me what you meant back there.”
“Amara, please. I don’t want to do this.”
“I can see the vein on your neck throbbing. Just tell me why you’re so angry!”
All of his frustration finally erupted. “Fine! I’m angry at everyone in this fucking town who thinks they’re better than me. I’m angry that the only reason I have a job is because my former best friend begged his parents to give it to me. And I’m angry that his sister thinks she knows everything about me when, in fact, she doesn’t know shit!”
She stepped to the side to let him pass. But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
“I can’t believe you have the nerve to tell me that I shouldn’t let others decide how to live my life when you’re doing the same goddamn thing! Why are you here, Amara? Huh? I heard you had a fancy job and your own apartment back in Chicago, but now here you are, helping your parents and not making a single damn decision for yourself.”
She looked away from him. “You don’t understand. It’s complicated.”
“Bullshit! You’re twenty-six and you still let your parents run your life.”
“And what about you? You still live with your mom!”
“I had nothing in Vegas! Nothing! I had to come back. You had a life in Chicago and you chose to leave it. So don’t compare my situation to yours. We’re not the same.”
“You know, Eric, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to be your friend. Maybe I should just stop trying so hard.”
Her words gutted him. “I never asked you to be my friend. And since we’re never going to be anything else, maybe it’s time to put an end to this silly dance once and for all.”
He grabbed her shoulders and moved her until her back pressed
up against the bakery’s door. Then he leaned into her, bracing his hands on each side of her body. His mouth hovered near hers, though he didn’t kiss her. The wild look in her eyes and the flush of her face told him she was as turned on as he was.
It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
“I’m not blind, woman, and I’m certainly not dead.” He moved in closer, dragging his open mouth along her throat. Her gasp threatened to snap his control. “You’ve been doing your best to tempt me into finishing what we started the night of the baptism. I’ll admit the last few times I’ve seen you it’s taken everything I have not to push you into that pantry and fuck you senseless.”
She arched against him and whimpered. “Eric…”
It’d be so easy to give in to what she wanted. What he needed. Her nipples beaded, and even through the layers of clothes separating their bodies, the sharp points brushed against his chest. What he wouldn’t give for a taste. No, more than taste. He wanted to devour her.
He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair and heaved out a breath. “But like I said before. You and me are a bad idea.”
She sagged against the door, anger flaring in her eyes. “There you go again, telling me what you think is best for me. What about what I want?”
His hands dropped to his sides. “Exactly what is it that you want? A quickie in the pantry? A screw on the counter? I get that you want to fuck, but why, Amara? Why me?”
If his harsh words shocked her, she didn’t let it show. She blew up instead. “Forget it!” she shouted, pushing off of the door and crowding him so that he had to take another step back. “I’m done throwing myself at you. You don’t want me to be your friend. Fine. I’m not. You don’t want to sleep with me. Fine. Don’t. You’re not the only churro in town.”
He would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so pissed off. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I may not be all confident and sexy like the girls you’re used—”