by Webster, K.
Today, it’s clear as day.
I want to feel connected.
Not lost and orbiting around everyone else like some lonely god in the sky. I want to be around others who make stupid jokes and poke fun at each other.
Like Momma used to always say, “When life gives you lemons, toss them back, grab some limes, and make margaritas.”
“Right,” I say, adopting my best boardroom voice that snags the attention of everyone at our table. “First order of business. Do we have limes, salt, and tequila?”
Camilo laughs, deep and sexy. “Abejita, this is Mexico. That’s like asking if the county fair sells corndogs.”
Damian fans his face. “Don’t say corndogs in that sexy Mexi voice of yours, Mr. Pilot. I can’t be responsible for what’ll happen next.”
Kyle groans and Estefania laughs.
“Don’t do it,” Carter warns.
“I want to know,” Lawton pipes up. “Say it, CZ.”
Camilo leans in and murmurs, “Corndogs.”
And dammit if I don’t want to swoon as dramatically as Damian is right now, complete with an over-exaggerated sigh and fluttering lashes.
“You’re killing me, Mexican cowboy. Tonight I’m getting you drunk and stealing another dance.” Damian winks at him and then mouths to me, “But he’s totally yours, princess.”
The thought of having someone like Camilo as mine is not as horrible as I might have once thought.
In fact, it’s really enticing.
It almost makes me forget about the guy I’ve been relentlessly pursuing since I was a legal adult.
Camilo is worse than any hurricane, because unlike the storm that’ll blow through here, he is more daunting. He has the power to wreck me, I fear. What’s even more frightening is I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face just thinking about what that might entail.
I am so screwed.
Camilo
Seeing Sheridan ruffled has been amusing. But seeing Sheridan as she commands a room and makes things happen? Priceless. I’m so turned on by the way she barks out orders like we’re all on her payroll and she’s seconds from firing us all.
“Dude,” Carter says, “you have got it so bad. She’s literally telling you you’re a slacker and you’re grinning at her. You two should fuck and maybe that’ll kill some of the sexual tension that’s threatening to suffocate us all.”
Images of tearing off Sheridan’s sexy clothes, spreading her silky thighs, and driving into her are too hot for this badly ventilated restaurant. I’m seconds from ripping off my shirt, but I may not stop there and continue on my trek to this girl.
“Yo, are you a pole or are you the muscle around here? Don’t make Damian break a nail or you’ll be in deep shit,” Sheridan bellows, pointing at the giant, filled jug of water at my feet. “Pick it up, bird boy, and go.”
Bird boy?
Carter snorts and hefts up his jug so his ass doesn’t get reamed too. Damian flutters around Sheridan, petting her like she’s the queen and thanking her for not making him do “ick” work. I roll my eyes and pick up the jug.
“Having an attitude will get you in trouble,” Sheridan warns, her eyes narrowing at me.
“Trouble’s my middle name, Sher Bear.” I wink at her as I pass.
She sucks in a sharp breath and then I hear Damian calling for her. I frown, wondering what happened. After I deposit the jug in the back room where the cots are, I head back down the hallway to look for her. I find her in Eduardo’s office, her ear pressed to the phone as she dials. It must ring and ring, because she gives up and sets it down on the receiver. She turns on her heel and almost knocks me over when she plows blindly into me.
“Everything okay?” I ask, grabbing her hips to steady her.
“Yep.”
“Big liar.”
Her brown eyes snare mine. “Move, airplane boy.”
“And miss the way your words sting, little bee? Never.”
She challenges me with her glare, but I don’t relent. Instead, I reach up to run my fingers through her soft brown hair. Because of the heat in the restaurant, her hair isn’t sleek and straight. It’s slightly frizzy with a little body to it. I like how it looks on her.
“I can defend myself,” she threatens, swatting away my hand, “and I know how to take a man down who’s in my way.”
She gasps but doesn’t fight me when I grip her hips and push her ass up against the nearest wall. I roam my palms up her ribs and then down her back, settling them on her ass.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
She scowls before letting out a huff. “I just wanted to talk to my dad. Happy?”
“No. Why did you want to talk to him?”
“When you called me Sher Bear like he always does, it made me think of him. I miss him.”
I understand that feeling all too well.
“If Eduardo isn’t your dad, where is yours?” she asks, a rare moment of vulnerability in her eyes.
I’m caught off guard by her question. Stunned frozen. Everyone just knows. And they know not to talk about it. “I, uh…”
“It’s a simple question, Camilo,” she grits out. “If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. Just move out of my way.”
She pushes at my chest, but I grip her wrists, keeping her from leaving.
“He’s in the States.”
Her eyes narrow. “And?”
“And nothing,” I growl. “That’s it. Stuck there until he dies.”
A burst of anger—aimed all at myself—swells up inside me. This time, it’s me who wants to get away. She stops me by standing on her toes and brushing a kiss across my lips. Time stands still for a second and then I pounce on her. My palm gently grabs her throat as I back her against the wall again. Her mouth parts with a needy mewl that makes my dick achingly hard. Our lips meet in a desperate, frenzied kiss. She tastes like orange juice and something I want more of. Her tongue is needy and dances with mine in a way that I wonder how she’d use it for other tasks.
Her fingers thread into my hair and she pulls on it, forcing me to end the kiss all too soon. I want to strip her down and continue this naked while inside her.
“There’s a story and I want to hear it.” She gnaws on her bottom lip. “Please.”
It’s hard to tell her no when she’s being fucking human.
“Not much to tell. Dad gave up everything for my dreams, including my mother. He took me to the States and gave me opportunities I may not have had otherwise. My dad was my best friend…”
“Until?”
“Until a stroke took him from me a few months ago. He’s in a nursing home in Florida now. Doesn’t speak or know much of what’s going on. He requires full-time care.” I close my eyes, hating the lump in my throat. “I’m off living my dream and he probably wishes he were dead. He wasted his life for me.”
“Hey,” she whispers in the softest voice I’ve ever heard her use. “I bet it wasn’t a waste to him.”
I study her pretty face up close. Steal a quick kiss. Rake my fingers through her hair. She’s so damn captivating.
“It’s hard to live my life, flying all over the globe, knowing he’s trapped to a wheelchair and relies on someone to take care of him twenty-four-seven. It should be me.”
She shakes her head. “He’d hate that.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know dads. If it were my dad, he’d hate that. They want their children to be happy, even at their own expense.” She frowns. “For so long, my dad didn’t date because he was afraid of upsetting me. My mom died when I was nine. It was hard to get over it. Not sure I ever will.” She expels a heavy sigh. “But I want Daddy to be happy. Now he’s getting married.”
Now that she’s not being a supreme bitch, I feel fucking terrible. “You’re missing the wedding?”
“He said he’d wait for his little girl.” She smiles, looking much younger and sweeter. “I’m his princess.”
“You? A princess? I never woul
d have imagined.”
She laughs, giving me a playful shove. “You’re a dick.”
“Good thing you like dicks and seamen, though it’d be better if you liked pilots too.”
“Pilots are arrogant,” she sasses. “I definitely don’t like pilots.”
“Pilots like you,” I growl, nipping at her bottom lip. “A lot.”
“Is everything okay? Sher—ohmigod, you’re tonguing my boyfriend,” Damian squawks from the doorway.
I laugh, releasing her to turn toward him. “First of all, I’m not your boyfriend, just your incredibly talented dance partner with…what did you call it? Bitable buns?”
Damian fans himself, pretending to sway on his feet. “Don’t tease a sex-starved queer with buns talk. I can’t be held responsible for what my tongue might do.”
“Secondly, scram Rainbow Brite.”
He cackles. “I’m telling everyone that you two were in here making babies!”
His heels clomp loudly down the hall as he leaves us alone. I smirk at Sheridan and offer her my hand.
“Want to continue this…talk…later, abejita?”
“Talking with you is dangerous.”
“Because your heart might get involved?” I toss back, grinning wide.
“My heart is unavailable.”
“Fine, I’ll just have to get involved with your puss—”
She punches me playfully in the gut and leaves me with a stupid smile, a boner, and determination to understand why her heart’s unavailable. I’m not sure I’ve ever put forth this much mental thought toward pursuing a woman.
She’s not just any woman, though.
She’s a hot villain robot girl who stings like a bee.
Goddamn, that makes me hot.
I’m fucked with this girl.
“Mijo,” Mamá calls out when I enter Eddie’s holding onto Doris’s arm so she doesn’t slip. “Is that everyone?”
We’re all soaked because the rain is really coming down in buckets now. Carter and I were tasked by Mamá to round up any stragglers. Since Doris wasn’t feeling well, she was in her room with Dale.
“The last two. It’s going to be crowded,” I say with a groan, surveying the big group.
Everyone is here. Even Alejandro and Toro. That damn dog may have missed me, but we both know he found a new amigo while I was gone. We have around thirty cots in the back, and nearly as many people. It’ll be a rough night for sure. Especially with Toro’s rank ass in there with us, dropping fart bombs in the close quarters.
I walk Doris over to my abuela, who’s sitting with a few other old folks. She immediately starts in on her son Henry, pointing to Damian, who blushes at the attention. I stop Dale before he can join them.
“How come you never correct her?” I ask, frowning.
Dale’s usual smile falls and he seems older. “We lost Henry in the Gulf War. It’s been thirty years since we buried him. Lately, Doris doesn’t remember that he passed. Always asks about him.” He looks over at Damian, who is playfully trying to kiss Carter. “For some reason, she thinks Damian is Henry and I can’t bring it in me to watch her heart break again.”
Oh.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a gruff tone. “For your loss.”
“Henry’s gone.” He smiles at me. “I’ve learned to live my life without him, because I’ve had to.”
His comment hits me in the gut. My chest aches as I think about Dad. The last time I spoke to him, it was probably five months before his stroke. I stopped in for a few days to visit in between flights. He asked a lot about Mamá and the hotel. It would always make me feel guilty whenever he would ask about his ex-wife, knowing I was the reason for their split. They fought over my dreams. Dad won. Mamá moved on.
When he had his stroke, I expected him to bounce back.
He never recovered.
“How do you learn to live without someone who meant everything to you?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.
“You let go of the guilt, son,” Dale says, reaching up to squeeze my shoulder. “It gets easier after that.”
Sheridan
“You’re doing it again.”
“Mmm?”
Damian cackles. “Well, at least tell me if it’s good. Is he hung? Does he taste delicious?”
Snapping out of my fantasy, I jerk my head to glower at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I don’t know every shade of pleather pants ever made.” He snorts. “You can’t fool me. We’re besties now, Sherrie, so spill.”
“Sheridan,” I grumble, which only makes him laugh. “And I wasn’t thinking of sucking his dick.”
His grin grows wide and wolfish. “Bet you are now…”
Ugh. Damn him.
“I know I am,” Lawton complains. “I have to work with him. It’s best if I don’t have to actively think about his yummy dick.”
Oh, God. These two are insane.
“On a scale of average Joe to holy-shit-it’s-the-king-of-cocks, what do you think he is?” Damian taps at his ruby red painted lips with a rainbow fingernail. “I felt it and he’s totally packing a monster. But the king of all cocks? I’d need to inspect it closer.”
When he licks his lips, I roll my eyes at him. “You’re such a spaz.”
“Do you need someone to help take a look because I’ll volunteer if his girlfriend says no?” Lawton asks Damian, sending them both into a fit of laughter.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I grumble, but neither of them listens.
The lights flicker and Kyle groans from the booth he’s sitting in with Estefania.
“Don’t take that tone with me, mister,” Damian calls to him. “You know the rules. I don’t make them, I just abide by them.”
“Damian, you totally made the rules. Like literally an hour ago.” I shake my head in exasperation when he waves me off.
“That was forever ago, honey, and I’ve had way too many shots to remember something so ancient.” He prances around pouring another shot of the cheap tequila that sort of grows on you into the five of our shot glasses. “Now drink. Every time the lights flicker, we drink.”
I suck down the third shot I’ve consumed this hour. Camilo has been making his rounds with Carter, talking to everyone while we slowly drink ourselves into a stupor. I’m thankful I have the alcohol because the hurricane is barreling our way and it stresses me out.
“Okay, girlfriends, I don’t know about you two, but I need to fix my makeup. Come on, girls.” Damian stands, clapping his hands at me. “Chop-chop.”
I laugh at his antics. Lawton just shakes his head as he slides from his chair and walks over to where Carter and Camilo are now standing. All three men absently pick food off a plate on the table as they talk. As Damian begs Estefania to go with us, I get caught staring at Eduardo. I don’t think he’s sat down the entire day. Just worked his ass off in the kitchen to feed everyone and fuss over them. My heart does a little squeeze in my chest. I’m not used to these squeezes. It’s uncomfortable.
Eduardo nods at me and I flash him a warm smile that’s probably fueled by the tequila. He straightens and beams at me, pride shining from him. Camilo arches a brow and smirks. I roll my eyes at him, trying not to think about how good he tasted when we kissed and follow after Damian and Estefania.
That kiss was incredible.
Hot and passionate and intense.
And wrong.
As soon as we’d pried ourselves apart, all I could think about was how I was ruining things with David. Had the hurricane never happened, I might very well have been in his hotel room at this exact minute.
I think back to when we had sex months ago. I’d been so sure it was the beginning of our future. Sure, it’d been lacking, but it was more than he’d ever offered me before. If I were in his room right now, would it have evolved into more? Could I have finally gotten his undivided attention?
I’m trying hard to recall his kisses. I know he tasted familiar, though I can’t
recall the exact flavor. All I know is it felt safe and warm.
Camilo’s kisses are terrifying and hot.
“Get in here,” Damian urges, tugging me into the tiny bathroom.
It’s a tight squeeze with the three of us. Estefania starts to giggle at the ridiculousness of it all, which is contagious. Soon, the three of us are laughing until we’re crying.
“Lord, the things I would do to this bathroom,” Damian says, once his laughter has faded. He pokes his finger into a hole in the sheetrock.
“What? Ew. New low, bro,” I tell him, nudging his shoulder.
“I’m not a bro, honey, I’m a glowworm. And I wasn’t going to put my glittery cock in it. I was talking about a revamp.”
“A revamp?” I ask as Estefania says, “Glittery cock!”
He snorts and fingers the hole. “Keep up, drunk divas. I would work my Damian Birch magic on this bathroom. Turn it from blah to ooh-la-la!”
We all giggle.
“I have never seen a glittery cock,” Estefania tells him. “In fact, I have never seen a cock at all.” She gasps and slaps her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Lordie in the sky above us,” Damian screeches, jumping up and down in his heels. “You did not just tell us your goddess self is a freaking virgin. Hellllo, your pussy is as magical as my glitter stick!”
“I think it’s sweet.” I smile at her. “You’re sweet.”
“Ew, Sugar Tits and Sherrie Berry, I am gay, but I’m not into watching two girls make out.” He pouts and then digs around in his bag for something. Lipstick. He leans in to reapply. “Now if I were in here with the two sexy-as-sin pilots…” He makes a little squealing sound. “Yum. So much yum.”
I want to tell him Camilo is my yum, but then decide I’m not drunk enough for that declaration. The lights flicker overhead. Perhaps I soon will be.
“You two owe me a drink,” Damian says and then pokes at the hole in the wall again. “Seriously. How hard do you think it would be for me to convince Eduardo to let me redo this bathroom?”
