Page 16

He balked before quickly covering up the reaction. “Spicy candy? How is that even candy, then?”

God, he was adorable.

“Wait ’til I tell you I put hot sauce on my popcorn and lime on my fruit,” I said, leaning forward and lowering my voice like I was letting him in on a secret. Really, I just wanted to be closer to him since our impromptu one-time date was coming to an end.

Our time was slipping away, and the thought of the night ending felt like a knot in my chest.

This must have been what Cinderella felt as the clock approached twelve—as if reality loomed at the edges of the fantasy, threatening to steal her from the bubble of temporary freedom. Maybe that’s why I let the next sentence tumble out. I wanted to experience the freedom of that moment.

“I start a new job next week, and I’m so nervous.”

I hadn’t admitted that to anyone. Not even my family…especially not my family. Maybe it was easier with Dalton because I wouldn’t see him again, or maybe it was because I sensed that he wouldn’t judge or make me feel small. “It’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m confident I can do my job, it’s just that…”

“Just what?” he asked, our foreheads nearly touching, his green eyes steady on mine as he pulled my hand from where I subconsciously picked at my callouses. “You’re going to make them bleed,” he said gently, brushing his thumb over the rough skin. “Go on, tell me what you’re worried about so I can help alleviate those worries.”

Heat pooled low in my stomach.

Indecision churned inside me. Each thought colliding with the next.

Letting anyone in on my insecurities felt like a cardinal sin, like admitting defeat. I’d always handled things on my own. Had to. Seeking help usually carried the same shame as failure. It meant I wasn’t strong enough. That I couldn’t carry the weight I was meant to shoulder. But for one night, with someone I’d never see again…maybe I could let the wall fall.

It didn’t mean I couldn’t handle life on my own.

“Pinky promise you’re not gonna tell anyone?” I asked, holding out my smallest finger. My heart lurched when he wrapped his around mine, the sensation far more intimate than it should have been.

“Pinky,” he said, low and sincere.

I took a breath, heart hammering as I unloaded some of my worries. “It’s in a field that’s not known for having women, and there are going to be a lot of men. I don’t want them to think I don’t know what I’m doing. I have to keep this job. I worked too hard for too long to get out of my ho—to get here.”

Dalton’s whole body went still, but he didn’t interrupt or try to offer a quick fix—he just let me talk.

“And my family…” I trailed off, chewing on the thought. “They already don’t think this is a good career path. They keep waiting for me to realize it won’t work out.” My throat tightened. Saying it out loud made it feel so much heavier. They wanted me to settle down and start a family, to find a good Catholic Latino who would take care of me and the babies I gave him, like my mom and all my tías.

But the thought of giving up on everything I wanted felt like drowning on dry land.

Dalton brushed his thumb across my callouses. The caress was like a pressure release valve, allowing the weight on my chest to lessen. “I get that. But I think it’s a sign you’ll do a kick-ass job.”

He gave me a lopsided grin, but I saw the flicker of something darker in his eyes—something heavy. “I still get nervous in my profession. Constantly going over everything I did right or wrong and where I can improve. Hell, I get the added bonus of working for my dad, which…” He glanced away, his jaw tightening for just a moment. “Let’s just say it takes a lot to make him proud."

Dalton let out a humorless laugh, staring down at our joined hands with an intensity that told me he was mentally somewhere else. “I’m not entirely sure I ever have…” he said, so quietly I would have missed it if I weren’t so wrapped up in him.

The comment made me frown.

My parents didn’t get what I did for work, but I’d never thought of them as not being proud of me. It was more like they were proud I was trying, but waiting for me to realize it wasn’t going to work out the way I’d always thought. And outside of that, there were plenty of things my parents had been proud of me for. Surely he couldn’t mean his father had never been proud of him.

I didn’t get to ask because Dalton lifted his head, throwing on one of the curated smiles he’d had on at the sports bar, and that told me all I needed to know. We were moving on from the subject.

"Those nerves mean this matters, Ari. You’re gonna prove to them—and yourself—that you belong. Give ’em hell."

Dalton stood, tossing a few bills on the table despite my protests. “Don’t argue,” he said, that soft, confident grin slipping back into place. “It’s already done.”

I rolled my eyes. Already done my ass.

From my purse, I grabbed enough cash to cover my plate and overpriced spicy water, adding it to the pile. The rest could be the tip, a thank you for dealing with us at this hour. Dalton shook his head but didn’t look surprised—smart man didn’t argue either.

We walked out beside each other in comfortable silence, the muggy night air hugging my skin. For a moment, we stood on the curb under a flickering streetlight, both knowing what was coming but neither willing to address it.

“This one’s yours,” he said softly, nodding toward the RideOrder that had pulled up.