Remarkably, our conversation went better than I’d expected.
I make another call to Davey, who informs me Maria is off at eight. He also warns me not to hurt her or he’ll kick my ass, which I don’t doubt. Davey’s a crazy motherfucker. He did time for manslaughter after he caught some guy assaulting his girlfriend, which is how he ended up a raging alcoholic. Needless to say, he’s not a guy I want to piss off.
After I shower and change, I drive to the restaurant and wait out front for Maria to come outside.
A t eight, I remove my apron, clock out and gather my things. I’m exhausted, as another waitress called out sick tonight, and I had to pick up the slack. All I want to do is shower and remove the smell of food from my skin, and then crawl in bed and sleep until noon tomorrow.
“You heading out?” Davey asks.
“Yep. Please tell me you have interviews tomorrow.”
“Five tomorrow and five the next day,” he says, wiggling five fingers in the air.
“I’m off tomorrow, but no bimbos, right?”
His deep laugh makes me smile. “None. I promise.”
“Thank, God. I’ll see you later. Goodnight.”
The warm Santa Ana wind caresses my skin when I step outside. I turn down the street where my car is parked and see Tug walking across the street toward me.
“Wait up,” he calls out.
I stop, and my stomach performs somersaults, my palms sweat, and worse, my heart aches.
“Davey’s inside,” I tell him and continue walking.
His soft smile is adorable. I should run. “I’m not here for Davey.”
“Oh.”
“I was hoping we could talk. I’d like to start over with you. Maybe we can be friends.”
He used a similar line before, and I foolishly fell for it.
“I can’t stay. I have to pick up Javier from the sitter and get to bed. He has school tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you,” he offers, his voice shaky. Is he nervous?
“I don’t know.” Why didn’t I say hell, no ? I’m angry, or I should be, but there’s a side to him that draws me in, a kind, funny side that’s impossible to resist.
“Okay. It’s cool.” He shifts on his feet, giving me a moment to change my mind. When I don’t, he turns in silence and strolls away from me.
“Wait.” This may be the worst decision I’ve ever made, but part of me believes this is a guy I could be friends with. Who am I kidding? We skipped the friend phase entirely, but I’m curious what he has to say. “You can follow me. That way you have a car if I need to send you packing.”
His lips curl into a smile so sweet, I melt. “Deal.”
W e park at my apartment, and Tug takes my hand as we walk towards my sitter’s, who lives in the same complex. He smells earthy, and clean—masculine, the scent familiar, only attached to a memory I don’t want to think about, and now that I am, I regret agreeing to let him come home with me. I release his hand when we reach the stairs to Del’s apartment and knock softly on the door.
Del answers, wearing a loosely tied bathrobe. She opens the door without shame, even when she sees Tug. We worked at the club together. A lack of modesty is a job requirement, but I wish she’d try to cover her breasts before they fall out of the robe in front of Tug. I’m positive her not doing so is intentional. Del’s a whore and not just in the literal sense of the word.
“Hey, he’s in the back bedroom,” she says quietly as we step inside.
“Thank you.” She eyes Tug, batting her lashes. “Oh, this is my friend, Tug.”
As I glance at Tug, I expect him to be staring at her chest, but he seems uninterested.
“Aidan,” he corrects me, and extends his hand.
There are very few people he allows to call him Tug. The nickname is obviously reserved for people he cares about. His allowing me to use it delights me.
“Hi. I’m Delfina, but you can call me Del.” Her giggle is over-the-top as she shakes his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Del,” Tug says politely. “I recognize you from the
I make another call to Davey, who informs me Maria is off at eight. He also warns me not to hurt her or he’ll kick my ass, which I don’t doubt. Davey’s a crazy motherfucker. He did time for manslaughter after he caught some guy assaulting his girlfriend, which is how he ended up a raging alcoholic. Needless to say, he’s not a guy I want to piss off.
After I shower and change, I drive to the restaurant and wait out front for Maria to come outside.
A t eight, I remove my apron, clock out and gather my things. I’m exhausted, as another waitress called out sick tonight, and I had to pick up the slack. All I want to do is shower and remove the smell of food from my skin, and then crawl in bed and sleep until noon tomorrow.
“You heading out?” Davey asks.
“Yep. Please tell me you have interviews tomorrow.”
“Five tomorrow and five the next day,” he says, wiggling five fingers in the air.
“I’m off tomorrow, but no bimbos, right?”
His deep laugh makes me smile. “None. I promise.”
“Thank, God. I’ll see you later. Goodnight.”
The warm Santa Ana wind caresses my skin when I step outside. I turn down the street where my car is parked and see Tug walking across the street toward me.
“Wait up,” he calls out.
I stop, and my stomach performs somersaults, my palms sweat, and worse, my heart aches.
“Davey’s inside,” I tell him and continue walking.
His soft smile is adorable. I should run. “I’m not here for Davey.”
“Oh.”
“I was hoping we could talk. I’d like to start over with you. Maybe we can be friends.”
He used a similar line before, and I foolishly fell for it.
“I can’t stay. I have to pick up Javier from the sitter and get to bed. He has school tomorrow.”
“I’ll go with you,” he offers, his voice shaky. Is he nervous?
“I don’t know.” Why didn’t I say hell, no ? I’m angry, or I should be, but there’s a side to him that draws me in, a kind, funny side that’s impossible to resist.
“Okay. It’s cool.” He shifts on his feet, giving me a moment to change my mind. When I don’t, he turns in silence and strolls away from me.
“Wait.” This may be the worst decision I’ve ever made, but part of me believes this is a guy I could be friends with. Who am I kidding? We skipped the friend phase entirely, but I’m curious what he has to say. “You can follow me. That way you have a car if I need to send you packing.”
His lips curl into a smile so sweet, I melt. “Deal.”
W e park at my apartment, and Tug takes my hand as we walk towards my sitter’s, who lives in the same complex. He smells earthy, and clean—masculine, the scent familiar, only attached to a memory I don’t want to think about, and now that I am, I regret agreeing to let him come home with me. I release his hand when we reach the stairs to Del’s apartment and knock softly on the door.
Del answers, wearing a loosely tied bathrobe. She opens the door without shame, even when she sees Tug. We worked at the club together. A lack of modesty is a job requirement, but I wish she’d try to cover her breasts before they fall out of the robe in front of Tug. I’m positive her not doing so is intentional. Del’s a whore and not just in the literal sense of the word.
“Hey, he’s in the back bedroom,” she says quietly as we step inside.
“Thank you.” She eyes Tug, batting her lashes. “Oh, this is my friend, Tug.”
As I glance at Tug, I expect him to be staring at her chest, but he seems uninterested.
“Aidan,” he corrects me, and extends his hand.
There are very few people he allows to call him Tug. The nickname is obviously reserved for people he cares about. His allowing me to use it delights me.
“Hi. I’m Delfina, but you can call me Del.” Her giggle is over-the-top as she shakes his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Del,” Tug says politely. “I recognize you from the
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