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“His wife didn’t think so.” I snort, and that only causes her to laugh harder. Full-on belly laugh. “She ran him down the street with a flip-flop after he left a trail of spit down her cheek. He went in for a quick kiss and left a nasty mess.”
“That’s mean,” she tries to say with a straight face but fails and falls into another fit of giggles. “Why did you let him eat so much? Shouldn’t you have—”
“We warned him. The chef warned him.” Bringing the can of soda to my lips, I take a quick drink. “But Emiliano, being the stubborn mule he is, decided that a little venom couldn’t hurt and that the tingling feeling on his lips was fun. That was all on him.”
“Still messed up.”
“My turn.”
Her amusement dies and she juts out her jaw. “Hit me.”
“Favorite animal?”
“I’m a dog lover and miss owning one.” Sadness flashes in her eyes, but she looks away and finds whatever is above my head fascinating. “My Frenchie passed away six months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, doll. My condolences—”
“And you? Favorite animal?”
“Wild? Jaguar. Domestic? Dog.” Seeing we’re no longer eating, I pick up our trash and clean up, storing the leftovers in her fridge. I’m thankful now to have bought two containers of the green papaya salad, not knowing it was her favorite. “I have a Doberman back home.”
“Are you bringing him to the States?” Once again, those seafoam eyes meet mine and my skin prickles with electricity—this almost dominating force that makes me take a step closer. And closer. I don’t stop until I’m around the counter and sitting beside her curvaceous form.
Knees touching. Arms brushing.
Why am I so intrigued by you?
“No. Chulo is staying with my mother in Colombia.” Her expression is soft and inviting, and all I want to do is kiss her. Taste her. “I’ll miss my little Parcerito, but she needs him more. He’s a great dog and very protective of her.”
“Chulo? That’s a weird name.” That teasing tone does nothing but excite me, but I don’t fall into her trap, choosing instead to just roll my eyes. Something out of character for me, but that’s what she’s doing—breaking my normal behaviors and replacing them with childishness. She’s trouble. “What does it mean?”
“That he’s the most handsome good boy out there.”
“Doesn’t sound very threatening or protective.”
“It’s meant to be that way. Always confuse your opponent. What they see is never what you are.”
“Hmmm,” is her response before jumping down from her perch, the stool a little high for her, and I find the action cute. Adorable even. Walking around to her Keurig, she opens the pod holder beside it and peruses the contents. Seconds turn to minutes. Our breathing and the sound of plastic pods jiggling against each other fills the space before she huffs and turns. Green eyes on mine, she purses her lips. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you.” This is my cue to leave. Mariah is a difficult woman, the few interactions we’ve had prove as much, but I know when to back off. When to strike. There’s something hidden behind those eyes—a little wariness she fights to conceal—but I see her. All of her, and plan to erase every doubt with my actions. “I’ll be heading out.”
If she’s surprised by my words, her expression doesn’t show it, but body language never lies. Tense muscles, hands clenching, and the tapping of her right foot. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s unaware of these actions, but I’m loving every single one.
Fight all she wants; I’ve gotten to her.
“Let me walk you out.”
“No need. I know the—”
“That wasn’t a request,” she grits out, chin jutted out. Gorgeously defiant.
“Of course.” Without waiting for her, I turn and head in the direction of the front door. And I’m almost there when she sighs, causing me to smile.
I stay silent, though. Waiting to see what she does or says.
“By the way…why a jaguar?” Mariah asks suddenly a few seconds later. Her curiosity makes me pause and look back, causing the little beauty to bump into my back. “I never asked you to stop walking.”
“You asked me a question.” Before she can step back, I turn and hold her close. Breathe her in. “I’m being thoughtful.”
