by Piper Rayne
“Fuck. What am I doing?” I mumble to myself.
“Being a jerk as usual,” Bill from production says as I follow Blanca.
When I return back to our cubicle area, she’s seated at her desk writing something down.
I lean on the wall, taking in her space again now that I know it’s hers. Somehow, I love that she’s taken something so bare and made it her own. But I probably acted like the opposite. Time to man up.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I start. “It just threw me, finding you here. I really liked you last night.”
She circles around in her chair. “And today you decide to treat me like a new step-sibling?”
I chuckle. “I don’t like to mix my personal life with my work life, and I’d hoped you might turn personal.”
Her face softens. “Oh.”
“I’d hoped to see you on the train again this Sunday and I had intentions of asking you out.”
A smile quickly forms before she has a chance to stop herself. “You were?”
I step closer, leaning on her two-drawer filing cabinet, my hands on either side of my hips. “What would you have said?”
Again, her smile. Seriously, it’s heartbreakingly beautiful. “You’ll have to ask me to find out.”
I shake my head and stand up straight. “I won’t.” Her smile falls. “I don’t date people I work with. It’s my rule.”
It’s a good rule, one I need to enforce. Even now when something inside of me says she’s different.
“Oh. Okay then.” She circles her chair back around to face her desk.
I spin the chair around so she’s facing me again.
“Tell me what you would’ve said.”
“Nope.” She giggles.
“Why?”
The nine o’clock meeting gets announced through the speaker in the phone and she stands up. “Because like I said, you have to ask me to find out.”
“I just told you my rule.”
She stops at the opening of her cubicle and turns one more time to face me. Crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes lock with mine. “Some rules are meant to be broken. Surely you know that.”
Before I can respond, she’s out of her cubicle and halfway down the hallway to the conference room.
Picking up my coffee and leaving my bagel for later, I follow knowing I’m screwed because she’s right. There’s an exception to every rule, and she just might be it.
Chapter Five
Blanca
*
When I’m at the outdoor entrance of my apartment building after work, someone screams my name from across the street.
I turn to find Dylan halfway out the doors of Ink Envy, waving me over.
Looking both ways like my mama taught me, I jog across the street. “What’s up?”
“Come on in,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk in and find Seth there, sitting down on a couch in the front of the tattoo shop with a giant Slurpee in his hands. He pats the seat next to him.
“Nice. What flavor?” I ask.
“Blue raspberry mixed with cherry and a squirt of Coke.”
I nod my approval. “So, why am I over here?”
“This is where we hang. Well, here or the rooftop.” He props his feet up on the table in front of him.
I glance around. The shop has soaring ceilings and the walls are covered in large picture frames filled with various tattoo designs the different artists have drawn. There’re a few artists at their stations, fewer clients.
“It’s early. Knox will be here shortly. So how was your first day of work?”
“Okay.” I shrug. “What do you do?”
He’s dressed in dark jeans and a Henley so I’m thinking he doesn’t work in an office of any sort.
“I’m a photographer.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. Like family portraits, weddings, landscapes? Have you been published?” I can’t stop the questions coming out of my mouth because I’ve always been intrigued by photography, but I never had the knack. My selfies still look horrible. Me and photography are similar to someone who wants to be organized but can’t get a handle on their clutter.
“Try boudoir.” Dylan comes over and sits down on the couch.
I take a seat on the couch opposite them. “Really? Like naked women.”
“No.” Seth looks offended, so I try to decrease my judgment. Not that I’m judging. I wish I had the guts to do it. Sadly, I know no one to give the pictures to. “Lingerie. And it’s just for experience and money until I can do what I really want to do.”
“He’s really good at it,” Dylan says.
He sips his Slurpee giving Dylan a pissed-off look like he was making fun of what he does for a living.
“Hey, Blanc.” I look over at Dylan surprised that he’s already shortened my name. “I wanted to apologize for last night. Sierra and I just don’t see eye-to-eye on the situation with her and her ex. You must’ve been really uncomfortable. Sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. I get it. After last night I think as long as you don’t talk badly about Prince Adrian Marx, you’ll be fine.”
“She told you about her crush, huh?” Dylan laughs. “That girl. God help her if she ever saw him face to face.”
“You mean God help the prince,” Seth adds, and we all laugh.
The doorbell rings and Sierra and Rian walk in. Dylan stands and holds his arms wide open. Rian looks to Sierra and joins me on the couch.
“You’re an asshole,” Sierra says, but she walks right into his arms. “You’re lucky I love you.”
He exaggerates the hug by keeping her in his arms longer and rocking them side to side.
“Okay you two,” Rian says, and I glance over at her. It’s then I notice that there’s a longing in her eyes. Not a jealousy per se, but almost as if she wishes she was in Sierra’s position.
Dylan releases his hold on Sierra and no one other than me seems to notice Rian’s comment or reaction.
Sierra takes a seat, and everyone rehashes their day. I’m quiet because they all know each other so well. Their conversations weave seamlessly from one to another. I sit back and become the observer instead of an active participant.
Sierra had to report a story about a thirty-year-old being evicted from his parents’ home by a judge. Rian wrote an entire chapter of math problems for the fifth grade textbook she’s working on right now. I always wondered what kind of people wrote those math problems. Seth had two clients, housewives who wanted to bring the fun back into their marriage. Dylan sits quietly and listens along with me.
My phone buzzes inside my purse and when I pull it out ‘Unknown Caller’ is on the screen, so I click deny and let it go to voicemail.
A second later, a text pops up.
Unknown Caller: How about dinner?
I smile already knowing who it is but wondering how he got my phone number.
Me: I thought there were rules?
*
Unknown Caller: I’m asking for professional advice. So technically it’s a business dinner.
*
Me: Oh well, that might change my answer.
*
Unknown Caller: To?
*
Me: Sure.
*
Unknown Caller: I feel as though you’d be disappointed if we did Italian because it wouldn’t live up to your mom’s cooking. How about Mexican?
*
Me: Okay. When and where?
*
Unknown Caller: Las Tacos 6:30?
*
Me: See you then.
*
Unknown Caller: Wait? What would you have said if it wasn’t business?
I laugh, my two thumbs already typing out my response.
Me: You have to ask to find out.
Three dots appear and then disappear.
“Who’s making you smile like that?” Sierra asks. Everyone’s head turns my way.
I tuck my phone back into my purse. “No one.”
“Liar.”
It vibrates inside my purse again, but I ignore it. “Just a guy from work.”
“Oh. Day one and he already has your phone number,” Dylan says. “I like the guy already.”
“It’s not like that, it’s work related. He wants to talk over an article.”
Seth straightens in his seat. “What do you do again?”
“I went to school for business, but I started this blog in college that did pretty well. Worked in finance for a bit and now I’m trying to get into journalism. It’s hard, so I’m stuck writing fluff pieces until I prove myself.”
Seth opens his mouth to say something and Dylan kicks his foot, causing his slushy to almost spill into his lap.
“Smooth,” Rian mumbles from next to me.
I look around hoping someone fills in the missing piece for me.
Sierra sighs. “Sigmund was a journalism major. That’s what Seth was going to say.”
“Oh.”
“But he works for some tech magazine,” Sierra says. “I doubt that interests you.”
I laugh. “Beats having to write about how to keep the sex alive in a long marriage.”
“Don’t get married,” Dylan says. “Problem solved.”
I’m pretty sure Rian whimpered next to me.
“My parents have been married for almost thirty years,” Seth chimes in. “It works for some people.” Seems the guy with the all-American looks comes from the all-American family.
“Do you really want to bring this topic up?” Dylan cocks an eyebrow.
Knox walks in and waves to someone at the back of the shop, taking the chair across from Dylan. “What’d I miss?”
“We’re just talking about how happily married Seth’s parents are,” Dylan says with mirth, though I don’t know why.
The other girls sigh.
“Someone has to fill me in,” I say.
Knox’s chuckle is deep as is his voice when he says, “Seth’s mom asked…” He glances across to Sierra. “A mutual… someone for a vibrator recommendation.”
Dylan bursts into laughter. Seth rolls his eyes, slurping up his drink. “You guys are assholes.”
I give him an exaggerated frown. “If it makes you feel any better, my mom asked me about masturbation once. Imagine that conversation.”
“At least she asked you and not your friend,” Seth grumbles.
“Oh, come on.” Dylan knocks him with his shoulder. “Your parents are happy, it just means exactly what I thought.”
“And what’s that?” Sierra asks, though I think she’s asking more for Rian than any of us.
“That your sex life dies with those two little words.”
“What two words?” Rian asks.
“I do.” Dylan leans back into the couch with smug satisfaction.
“My parents had four kids. Three boys and they still had me. Their sex life was healthy,” I argue. I’m not sure about the family dynamics of anyone else here except for Sierra and since her mom died so young, it might be a topic she’s uncomfortable talking about.
“You said yourself your mom was asking about clicking her kitty,” Dylan says. I ignore the visual that brings to mind.
“Masturbation has nothing to do with not having a healthy sex life,” I counter and the girls all nod in agreement.
Dylan’s feet fall to the floor and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “How do you figure?”
“Well, even if I’m in a serious relationship, I continue to masturbate.”
“Why would a girl do that?” Seth looks me dead in the eye like he can’t wrap his head around what I’m saying.
“Easy. She’s not getting it the right way,” Dylan says, a cocky smirk on his lips.
Sierra laughs and touches his arm and makes a loud buzzing sound. “Wrong answer.”
I lean forward and high five her.
The three guys look at us and then each other as though we’re full of it.
“It must be the same for you guys? Sometimes you just need to release some tension and five minutes or less is all you need,” I say.
Dylan winks. “Call me next time, I’ll get you off in three minutes.”
Almost everyone laughs, but the one person not joining in is sitting to the right of me. Now I’m sure Rian has a crush on Dylan.
“You can’t tell me that you guys don’t ever just play with your joystick for a minute and voila.” Sierra takes her time to look at each one of them. “I’m sure you prefer that over foreplay anyway.”
“First of all, not a joystick,” Knox says, his voice rumbling deep.
“If you’re gonna describe the manhood, at least make it a side stick like in the fighter planes,” Seth says.
“I like foreplay.” Dylan crosses his arms with a smugness on his face.
“No guys like foreplay,” Sierra argues.
“I do.” He shrugs.
“I thought those two words together weren’t in your vocabulary,” I say with a cocked eyebrow.
“Don’t you have a date?” Dylan asks.
I pull my phone from my purse to see it’s already six.
“Shit, I have to get ready.” I stand up and swing my computer bag and purse over my shoulder. “And it’s a work meeting, not a date.”
“I don’t get a smile like that on my face when I have to meet with Sargent Joe.” Knox raises his eyebrows up to his hairline.
Forgetting them, I push the doors of Ink Envy open and run across the street to our apartment building.
There’s no harm in me looking good for a work meeting. I mean, I can’t show up in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. What kind of message would that send?
Chapter Six
Ethan
*
The Modelo beer rests between my hands and my eyes are glued to the television, but I have no idea what soccer teams are playing.
This is a bad idea.
I’ve repeated that same mantra minutes after I sent Blanca the text while I was in the shower, again when I picked out jeans and a T-shirt that make it look like I’m not trying too hard, and just for good measure again when I perfected my hair with gel.
It repeated in my mind like a bad commercial jingle while I swiped the keys off the counter and pocketed my cell phone on the way out the door.
Still, here I am at Las Tacos, waiting for Blanca to arrive.
At least I didn’t suggest picking her up from her apartment. I deserve points for that.
Tossing back another sip, my foot taps on the rail of my bar stool.
After Sierra, the last thing I wanted was to get involved in a relationship. Things went from cloud nine to the depths of Hell in a week’s time with us. We rushed things by moving in together so we tried to make it work, probably longer than we should have.
If only this pull on my heart that says Blanca’s different would stop tugging and demanding attention. Then maybe I wouldn’t be at a restaurant with the lame excuse about our articles wanting to share my new fascination with her—Mexican food. Sierra hates Mexican, so after we broke up, I only ate Mexican for a while. Less of a chance I’d run into her.
“Are we eating at the bar?”
Blanca’s soft voice pulls me away from the memories of my nightmare of a last relationship.
I swivel on the bar stool. “Nah, we can grab a table.”
But she’s already sliding onto the stool next to me. “There’s a line.”
I look back. When I got here, the hostess station was clear. But she’s right, there’s a line formed now.
“This is fine and I’m hungry, so I say we stay.” She takes off her jacket and hangs it off the bar stool along with her purse.
“Sure.”
In my mind, I tell myself not to compare her anymore to Sierra, but I can’t help it. Sierra always wanted to eat without any televisions around. Said I always got too distracted and didn’t listen to her.
She grabs the drink menu from the holder and flips it over, perusing it.
Maybe I’m not the only one who has something tugging on their heart, saying there’s something different between us. Something good here.
“Just a beer?” she asks. “You’d fit right in with my brothers.” A small laugh falls from her lips and my eyes zero in on her lip gloss. Usually lip gloss or lipstick annoys me because kissing her isn’t an option without coating my own lips, but I don’t give a shit with Blanca. Let me look like a drunk clown if it allowed me one taste of her.
“Speaking of. Do they know you’re here?” I grin.
She shakes her head with a smile and puts the menu back down. The bartender stops in front of her. “Margarita, rocks, salt on the edge.” She turns back to me after the bartender walks away. “The answer to your question is no.”
“What would they say about being on a date with a stranger?” The word date was a slip, but I notice that she doesn’t correct me.
I swivel my chair in her direction and she crosses her legs, positioning herself my way too.
“You’re not a stranger. You’re my co-worker.”
“True, but you just met me.” I flick my wrist to check my watch. “Not even twenty-four hours ago.”
She grabs my wrist like she needs to see the time for herself. Her fingertips on my skin bring a rush of heat right to my groin. “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life.”
She’s right. Somehow it feels like we’ve known each other all our lives. There’s a comfort level between us normally only there after time and proximity. I’m a lucky guy for finding her on that train.
The bartender breaks up our conversation, placing Blanca’s margarita down in front of her. “Menus?” he asks.
“Please,” she says. Not one glance my way to see if I’m on board. Her confidence is sexy as hell.
Maybe it’s because my mom always catered to my dad. Nothing was final until he ruled on the decision. Ever since I can remember, a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t looking to me for permission is an aphrodisiac for me.
