Cocksure Ace

by Webster, K.

  “My momma used to always tell me when life gives you lemons, toss them back, grab some limes, and make margaritas.” I sniffle and shiver. “I owe you both a margarita and an apology. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” Damian says.

  “I will practice saying your name,” Estefania offers.

  I pull away, shaking my head at her. “I like the way you say it.”

  She grins at me. “Sherrie-dan it is!”

  “Ew,” Damian whines. “Are you two going to make out? Because I’ve been told I have a horrible gag reflex. I can’t watch. My eyes!”

  We all laugh at his dramatics. Then, my best friends and I walk through the rain, feeling happier and lighter than moments before.

  God, I’m going to miss them.

  After spending the night on a cot and then getting soaked in the rain, napping on the bed in the small villa was heaven. Estefania must be asleep in her room on the other side of the villa and there’s no telling where Damian ran off to. All I know is it’s blissfully quiet. I haven’t had a quiet moment to myself in days.

  Someone raps on the door and I cringe.

  I’m hoping it’s not Rosita or Eduardo. When they delivered my things, it’d been awkward. Eduardo tried to be the perky hotel host, but Rosita’s dark mood put a damper on things. I managed to take the soaked luggage without getting slapped by Rosita or going off on her. Crisis averted.

  Groaning, I slide out of bed and head for the front door. A part of me hopes it’s Camilo coming to apologize. It’s girlish and silly. I’m smarter than that. Where Damian and Estefania are true friends, Camilo just wanted in my pants. Or panties in my case. Ugh. Gross. He’s gross. I’m gross. We’re all gross.

  I fling open the door, a sour look on my face, prepared to send him on his way. Instead of finding the hot pilot who pisses me off, I find his grandmother. Lovely. She has a bag over her shoulder, mutters something in Spanish, and pushes inside.

  Um, okay.

  “Can I help you?”

  She ignores me, or doesn’t understand me, and makes her way into my room. When she starts unpacking her bag, I tense up with irritation.

  “Ma’am,” I grumble. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s been a long couple of days and I need a breather.”

  She points to my bed, a look of impatience on her wrinkly features.

  Fine. This lady wants to watch me nap? Cool. I’ll add it to the obnoxious list of weird stuff that’s happened to me since I got on that plane.

  As I walk past her, she tugs at my shirt, trying to pull it off.

  “Hey!” I cry out. “Don’t touch!”

  She huffs, shaking her head, and mimics massaging. It’s then I’m reminded she’s the hotel masseuse. Oh, dear God. This is awkward. I’m not about to let an ancient grandma rub me down with her arthritic fingers. Pass. That’s just mean. I’m a lot of things, but making this old lady massage me when it should be the other way around is not one of those things.

  When she smacks my bottom, I cry out in shock. She’s serious. I guess I’m not getting out of this. With a huff of frustration, I pull off my shirt and lie face down on the bed. I can hear her unpacking things and then she sets something down on the nightstand. A few seconds later, familiar music starts playing.

  I tense up.

  “Rocket Man.”

  I’d overheard she was an Elton John fan after I played for everyone on the piano, and now it’s confirmed. Hearing a song my momma taught me to play when I’m already in a fragile emotional state hits me right in the gut. I’m tense as I will the tears away. Something warm squirts out onto my back and I jump. She smacks my bottom again and then starts rubbing my back. At first, it’s gentle. Then, she puts incredible strength into pushing on the knots in my shoulders. I gasp in shock. Who knew this little old lady had it in her? I groan in half pain, half pleasure as she works me over. This is quite possibly the highlight of my horrible trip.

  As I begin to relax, I can’t help but think about Momma.

  I don’t even remember what she looks like anymore. Sure, we have pictures, but it’s not the same. Her face is a fuzzy memory. Her scent is something I no longer can recall. All I have left is the way she made me feel. Loved. Happy. Safe. All the things Daddy had to double down on when she died. It’s not fair to him the way I clung to him once she died. I never gave him any room. I embedded my life so deeply in his that I’d never be alone again.

  Is this why I want David?

  Because not only is he Daddy’s best friend, but it would mean more time together?

  God, talk about being the ultimate daddy’s girl.

  I’m pathetic.

  If Momma were here, though, she’d laugh and tell me I’m over the top. Not in a bad way. In a good way. The kind of girl who loves too much, too hard, too intensely. It’s not a bad thing when all that love is being directed your way. Right? Daddy adores me and never once acted like I was a nuisance.

  I realize I’m crying. I don’t try to hide it as the song leads into “Tiny Dancer.” I just cry quietly, missing both my parents. I cry for the way I treat people. It makes me want to try harder. And ultimately, I cry for Camilo.

  He’s just so…something.

  Something I was given a tiny taste of but don’t think I’ll ever have a chance to fully indulge.

  Camilo

  Last night, albeit in my own comfortable bed, I slept like shit. Everything Carter said to me kept bugging me. If Sheridan was some girl I wanted to fuck and move on from, like every other girl in my life, this would be easy.

  It’s not easy.

  It’s maddening.

  I can’t stop thinking about her. Now, just next door to my villa. When we came back from the airstrip, Mamá informed me Estefania and Sheridan had been moved. I wanted to visit Sheridan to talk—about what, I haven’t figured out yet—but the lights were out.

  There’s always today.

  In fact, all we have is today.

  Carter got confirmation we’re back on schedule tomorrow now that the electricity has come back on. Rodrigo was all bark and little bite, thank God. I’ve seen hurricanes that have stripped the coast bare. We’re lucky we came out unscathed since this one was a direct hit.

  “Where are you going looking like a snack?” Carter asks from the couch, the remote flipping through the channels until he settles on a dramatic telenovela.

  “A snack? Who even talks like that?”

  “A grumpy snack. Maybe you need a Snickers. Unless that’s against some snack code. Like cannibalism, but for snacks. Snackibalism.”

  “Shut up,” I say with a groan, unable to stifle my laugh. “I’m going to see her.”

  He sits up, his brows high. “Grand gesture?”

  “Only way to win the girl.”

  “So you’re winning her? Forever?”

  “I only need one day.”

  “Spoken like a true romantic.” He grins and waves me off. “Go on. Get the girl and if you know what’s good for you, keep her.”

  I leave him to his Mexican drama and step outside. The sun is trying to come out today, chasing away the last of the rain. Hotel Zaragoza took a beating, but Mamá already has her staff working. Someone hammers nearby, echoing loudly. Soon, this place will be as good as new. At least I hope. Mamá loves this place nearly as much as she loves me. I’d hate to see her lose it altogether.

  The walk next door is short and muddy. My tennis shoes are already ruined. They’ll get worse before the day’s over. I was smart enough to wear my board shorts and an old red T-shirt. Mud is inevitable today.

  I reach the villa door and knock. Feminine voices can be heard before the curtain moves at the window by the door. Then, I hear hissing as they talk. While they’re trying to decide if they should let me in, I roll my eyes and walk inside.

  “Camilo!” Sheridan barks out. “You can’t just come inside without being invited!”

  “I’m not a vampire and my family owns this hotel. I do what I want.”


  Well, shit.

  Not exactly how I planned to woo the girl.

  Her brown eyes flare with anger and her neck turns splotchy red. She’s wearing some fancy robe thing over her pajamas, but her hair is flawless and smooth.

  “Get out,” she snaps. “Now.”

  “Yes!” Estefania chimes in. “You are not welcome here, handsome pilot!”

  “Stop calling him handsome,” Sheridan grinds out. “It’ll go to his head.”

  “Too late,” I reply. “She said it and I’m feeling rather handsome.”

  Sheridan rolls her eyes. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  Both women grow silent, stunned by my answer.

  “You can’t have me,” Sheridan finally says, her voice cold as ice. “I’m unavailable.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the story. You ready to go see all of Tahueca? I may be partial, but I think the state of Oaxaca is the most beautiful.”

  “I need to wash my things.” Sheridan shrugs. “Raincheck.”

  “I could wash your things,” Estefania offers. “Kyle will keep me company.”

  Estefania is Team Handsome Pilot.

  “I only need today,” I urge Sheridan. “That’s all we have, Sher. Just today. Our flight leaves in the morning.”

  A multitude of emotions pass over her features. Relief. Sadness. Happiness. Regret.

  “I’m not going because I like you,” she tells me in a prim tone. “I’m going because I’m a world traveler and I would like to see these beautiful places you speak of. There will be no funny business. No kisses. No…other things.” Her face burns red. “One day to see the sights as friends.”

  “Friends, huh?” I arch a brow at her. “That’s it?”

  “Take it or leave it, buddy.”

  “Fine. As friends.” I step close to her and stroke my knuckle along her jaw. “But it’s not my fault if you fall in love.”

  “We’re more likely to get hit by another hurricane than for that to happen.” She smirks and then high-fives Estefania.

  “Stranger things have happened,” I say with a grin. “And, Sher, I think you just issued a challenge. I never back down from a challenge.”

  “I always win them,” she tells me in a smug tone. “Not falling in love with you. You’re lucky I’m even agreeing to do this. I’m only using you to see the sights.”

  “I’ll show you some sights…”

  “Get out of my villa while I get dressed, asshole!”

  I laugh all the way out the door.

  “I still can’t believe you have a car.”

  We bounce along the road and she has to hold on so she doesn’t fly out of the Jeep.

  “Pilots can’t have cars?” I ask with a smile.

  “You have planes.”

  “I fly them for a living, but I certainly don’t have planes. They’re fucking expensive.”

  I hit another pothole filled with water and it sprays inside the Jeep. She wasn’t thrilled when she saw my vehicle didn’t have doors.

  “Maybe you need a better job,” she grumbles, flicking off a clump of mud from her bare thigh. “One that will allow you to buy doors for your Jeep.”

  “And miss seeing my girl with mud on her sexy ass legs? Not a chance.”

  “I’m not your girl.”

  “For today you are.”

  Her lips twitch like she might smile, but I don’t get to see. The road is a mess from all the rain. At least the debris has already been cleared from whenever Ramona and her brother took Araceli and Rodrigo to the hospital to make sure they receive proper medical treatment now that the hurricane is gone.

  “Where are we going?”

  “An early lunch. A little place that has the best view. Thought we could swim a little after.”

  She seems okay with this, so we continue our journey. There’s a restaurant that’s up the coast a bit between the hotel and where Marco lives. It makes me wonder if Araceli told him yet that the baby was born. He’s a deadbeat, so I’d be surprised if he actually made good on a promise and came to see them.

  Getting to Casa en la Cueva takes longer than usual, but eventually, we pull up. Because the bulk of the restaurant is nestled in the side of the cliff, it usually remains unscathed by storms. We hop out and I take Sheridan’s hand. She stiffens, shoots me a wary look, but doesn’t remove her hand. Progress. I walk her to the cliff’s edge and we stare out at the beautiful Pacific Ocean. It’s extra windy today and the waves are out of control. Still gorgeous, though we won’t be swimming out in it. Luckily, Casa en la Cueva has a small lagoon that is usually safe from waves and storms.

  “The stairs are over here.” I guide her to the steep stairs carved into the rock and we make our descent. There are several hut-like structures in each cave. The scent of something salty and decadent fills the air.

  “Smells good,” she says. “How do we get to it?”

  “This way.”

  We pass the kitchen part and head down another level to where there are some tables and chairs set up. I pull out a chair and motion for her to sit. The sea smells like rain still. At least the breeze is warm and the sun is out.

  A waiter comes by and hands us some menus. It’s all in Spanish. She squints, trying to figure it out. I simply smile at her.

  “Give up yet?”

  “I get the gist.” She huffs. “I’ll have that.”

  I arch a brow at where she’s pointing. “You like frog leg stuffed sea urchins?”

  “What? No!”

  “I’m kidding. But, may I suggest my favorite?”

  She relaxes and smiles. “Yeah. I want what’s good.”

  “Tlayudas. Oaxacan pizza. Enough for two people. It’s seriously the best thing they make and what they’re known for.”

  “Pizza? In Mexico?”

  I smirk. “Not like you’re used to, City Girl. This is a huge tortilla glazed with asiento and then layered with refried beans, tomatoes, avocadoes, and in this case tasajo. They serve it open face and cook it on the charcoal grill. That is what you smelled coming in.”

  “Sounds so good.”

  The server returns and I order our meal, including a couple of local beers so they’ll bring us beer snacks for free. She lifts her brow in question.

  “Don’t worry,” I say with a grin once he walks off. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  “You better.”

  A smile tugs at her pretty plump lips as she watches the ocean waves crash against the shore. I take the time to admire her profile. Cute little upturned nose. Creamy skin. Straightened hair that’s starting to frizz slightly from the humidity. She put on a short summer dress over her swimsuit and the orange looks good on her. I like looking at her.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was a dick and that was unfair.”

  Her brown eyes dart to mine and she narrows them. “It came out of left field.”

  “Not really,” I mutter. “I mean, I heard you talking to him. David.”

  She cringes at his name and I wonder why. “You heard that?”

  “Yeah. You miss him.”

  “Not like you think,” she admits in a whisper that nearly gets lost in the wind.

  “Like an uncle?”

  Her face sours. “I slept with him. Definitely not like an uncle.”

  Irrational anger churns in my gut imagining her sleeping with some guy who’s friends with her dad. How does one fuck someone like her and not keep her? Furthermore, how the hell someone like her is chasing after this guy and not the other way around is beyond me.

  “I just…after what happened with us in Eduardo’s office, it pissed me off.” I level her with a no-nonsense stare. “I like you, Sher.”

  Her stiffness fades and she looks up at me with a shy, pretty smile. “You can’t like me. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “I can still like you.” I flash her a smug grin. “I do what I want.”

  “It hurt my feelings.” Her lip quivers once before she bites down on
it. “It embarrassed me.”

  Well, fuck.

  I feel like an asshole.

  Reaching across the small table, I take her hand in mine. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you today. Then, when we’re forced to part ways tomorrow, you’ll have nothing but good memories of me. The handsome pilot with a big dick.”

  She laughs, loud and unladylike, tugging her hand away and shaking her head at me. The waiter returns with a couple of beers and our beer snacks. It’s basically a plate loaded down with smoked meats, cooked carrots, and potatoes. He also delivers some nachos and salsa. Our small table is filled to the brim.

  As we eat, I ask her about her company. She’s clearly a badass boss babe. It’s interesting to see her speak of acquisitions and merges. The fierceness in her voice makes my dick hard. It also makes me sad. Her entire persona hardens. The soft, laughing girl from moments ago is gone.

  “I lost you,” she says after a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m boring you.”

  “Boring me?” I chuckle. “Never. Not you, abejita. I was just wondering if you’re happy.”

  Rather than answering me, she tosses a piece of meat in her mouth and chews, her brows furled together. When she finally washes it down with the beer, she shrugs.

  “I get to hang out with my dad every day and make lots of money. What’s there to not be happy about?”

  I lift a brow. “There’s more to life than chilling with your dad and making money. Take it from someone who knows about that explicitly.”

  “You avoid your hometown,” she bites out, growing hostile. “Abandoned your mother. And yet now you want to lecture me on happiness. You wouldn’t know what happy was even if it bit you in the ass!”

  “Put the claws away, tigress. I’m not shaming you. Jesus, woman,” I growl. “I’m only saying you deserve more.”

  All the fire is snuffed out in an instant.