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  Connor glanced over at me with amusement. “You had an awful lot of beads. However did you get so many?”

  I tried to glare at him from the kitchen. “How do you think I got them?”

  He patted his pockets. “I think I might have a pair of beads on me somewhere,” he murmured.

  I threw a pot holder at him. He dodged it, chuckling.

  “You better be nice if you want any of my amazingly delicious, mouthwatering, knock-your-balls-off, homemade nachos.”

  He held his hands up.

  “I don’t want any trouble, ma’am.”

  “You are the trouble. And by the way, I’m from the south, and you live in the south. I’m no ma’am. I’m Miss Darla to you.”

  He moved on to the next item of interest, a snow globe—from Mexico of all places—and shook it.

  “Actually, I am your elder. I don’t have to call you Miss anything. You, however, should call me Mr. Connor.”

  My nose scrunched up. “That makes you sound like a high school teacher.”

  “Teacher-student relationship, huh? How taboo.”

  I shook my head and focused on chopping the onion on my small cutting board. I didn’t want to chop off my hand.

  “What am I going to do with you?” I asked more to myself than to him, but he answered anyway.

  “I have a few ideas.”

  I dared to raise my eyes. I found him looking at me with devilment in his eyes.

  I cleared my throat and went back to what I was doing.

  “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get in here and help me? And don’t forget to pick up the pot holder on your way.”

  I put Connor to work shredding cheese. We practically stood on top of one another, but he didn’t get in my way like Cherry did when she was in the kitchen with me. It was actually rather pleasant to work with him while an alternative rock station played on the living room stereo. There was a little flirting, but not much. Just mostly fun conversation and laughter.

  My nerves were beginning to settle. I was just starting to believe that Connor and I could have a nice, friendly afternoon together when the apartment door burst open and Cherry strode in.

  “Y que sucia!” she called out, looking down at her phone.

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t been expecting Cherry. She was supposed to be in New York for the weekend visiting with some other friends. It’s not that I didn’t want to see her, I was always happy to see her, but I just wanted to hang out with Connor, have a quiet, fun afternoon with Connor. Cherry…well, Cherry would be Cherry…Any pleasant ideas I’d had vanished.

  “I thought you were staying in New York,” I said, frozen in place holding a pot of cheese sauce.

  “Pablo’s abuela dropped dead this morning. It kinda killed the fun.” She finally looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw Connor. “You little ramera,” she purred. “No wonder you don’t want me here.”

  She sashayed the few steps to the counter and reached across it, hand extended. Smile wide. Cat eyes batting. I wanted to slap her.

  “Hola. Me llamo Cherry.”

  Connor shook her hand as he gave her his most dazzling smile.

  “Hola. Mi nombre es Connor. Como estas?”

  “Estoy bien y usted?”

  Connor rubbed his stomach. “Hambriento. Ella me tiene pasando hambre.”

  I looked at them with an open mouth. I had no idea that Connor could speak fluent Spanish.

  “Darla!” Cherry said admonishingly. “He said that you’re starving him!”

  “I am not! I was just about to pour cheese on the nachos when you broke down the door with your big Cuban boobs.”

  “She made me chop things,” Connor said to Cherry, pouting. He held up a bandaged finger. “I cut myself because she made me chop things.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re the only person in the world to cut your finger on a tortilla chip. You should really be ashamed of yourself. I am actually ashamed to have you in my kitchen.”

  He attempted to look dignified. “Yeah, well, you didn’t kiss it to make it better. So, I’m not really sure how our relationship is to proceed from here.”

  I opened my mouth to remind him that we weren’t in a relationship, but Cherry jumped in before I could speak.

  “Listen, I have some good news. It actually works out very well that you were already making tacos.”

  I made a face and hugged my pot of cheese sauce. “Nachos. Not tacos.”

  She shrugged. “A nacho is nothing but a deconstructed taco. It’s the same thing.”

  “A taco salad is a deconstructed taco. It is not the same thing.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. The bangle bracelets on her wrist clanged together. “Just work with me. You’re ruining my surprise.”

  “This can’t be good,” I murmured.

  She opened her large purse and slowly pulled out a paper bag that clearly held a bottle inside.

  “Do you know what this is?” she asked with a big smile.

  “A paper bag?” I responded dryly.

  “Is it a cat?” Connor asked. “And are you going to let it out of the bag?”

  Cherry laughed. “You didn’t tell me he was funny, Darla.”

  His surprised gaze dropped on me. “You talk about me to your roommate?”

  I opened my mouth, but once again, Cherry spoke first.

  “Yeah, yeah. We had a discussion about her lame note, but I still have to reveal what’s in the bag. It’s not a cat.”

  “I said her note was lame, too,” Connor said, turning his attention back to Cherry. “We’ll have to talk later, Cherry. What’s in the bag?”

  Without any further dramatics, she pulled a bottle of Jose Cuervo out of the bag. She looked at me, nodding. “You know what it means when I bring home the tequila.”

  “Taco Margarita party,” I sighed.

  “What’s a taco margarita party?” Connor asked.

  “We invite people over,” Cherry started.

  “Everyone has to bring something,” I added. “More Jose, maybe taco ingredients, or ice.”

  “Darla makes sexy tacos, and I make sexy margaritas,” Cherry said. “Good food. Good drinks. Good music. Good company. Taco Margarita party.”

  I loved Taco Margarita parties, just as much as I loved Steak and Blow Job Shots parties, and our Chips, Dips, and Beer Pong parties, but Connor was there, and there were so many things wrong with that situation. For starters, the man still had to drive back to his sister’s before the day was out.

  “Maybe Connor and I will skip this one,” I said apologetically. “I’m sure he wasn’t planning on getting drunk while he was here.”

  “Actually, it sounds like a good time,” he said, grinning. “I can stay in a hotel and drive back tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cherry said, smiling slyly. “You can stay here. Darla and I will sleep in my bed.”

  Connor looked down at me and studied my face. His grin slipped away. “If you don’t want me to stay, Darla, it’s fine. Really. It’s not like you were expecting me to visit anyway.”

  Aw, damn. Of course, I couldn’t just send him away. Since I hadn’t stayed at his house as I had promised, the least I could do was let him stay at mine. I just wouldn’t be able to drink more than one or two margaritas. I would stay lucid and stay out of the arms of trouble, which was what the night could end in if I weren't careful. And Connor was that trouble.

  Cherry saw the resignation in my face and cheered.

  “Taco Margarita party!”

  She put the bottle of tequila down on the counter and danced off to her room.

  I looked down at my cheese sauce and sighed. I put the pot back on the stove and turned the burner on low.

  “Really, Darla,” Connor said, coming to stand beside me. “I don’t have to stay. I don’t want you to feel obligated to—”

  “No, I want you to stay,” I said, and I meant it. Cherry was on the phone in her room, not paying us any mind, but still, I lowe
red my voice. “Look, there’s gonna be a hell of a lot of drinkin’, and I just wanna be on the same page with you. I can’t offer you anything more than friendship, Connor. I was going to tell you that anyway, but I thought I should put that on the table right now before the alcohol starts to flow.”

  “You don’t have to put me in the friend zone, Darla,” he said with a small smile. “I’m already there. I think I’ve been there from the beginning.”

  Before I could say anything to that, Cherry came out of her room. It was the last time we were alone until hours later.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I scowled at the sound of the loud laugh in the living room.

  “Why did you invite her?” I mumbled to Cherry.

  She looked up from the glasses she was rimming with salt and followed my line of sight. “Zee? I always invite Zee.”

  We weren’t whispering, but between the other eight people in the apartment seemingly talking all at once and the Hip-Hop music blasting from the stereo, our words were well covered.

  “Why does she have to laugh like that?” I snapped. “She sounds ridiculous.”

  I watched as Azeena, Cherry’s old college friend, laughed again and touched Connor’s arm.

  My scowl deepened.

  “And why is she all touchy all of a sudden. Why can’t she keep her hands to herself?”

  Cherry gave me a look. “What’s going on between you two anyway? Why did he come up here?”

  “Oh, now you want to know,” I snarled at her. “You didn’t bother to ask any questions before you came traipsing through the door announcing a Taco Margarita party. Maybe—before you invited him to stay in my bed—you should have spoken to me first.”

  “You were cooking for him,” she argued in a whisper as she began to fill the glasses. “How was I supposed to know that it wasn’t like that?”

  “You didn’t ask!”

  A few heads, including Connor’s, turned toward us. I dropped my gaze back to the tray of tacos I was preparing. Cherry, being a true hostess, delivered the tray of margaritas to our friends, and I followed close behind with the taco tray.

  “Enjoy!” Cherry said and then snagged my arm. “We’ll be right back.”

  She smiled widely until we were in her bedroom and the door was closed. Then she put her hands on her hips and stared at me expectantly.

  I sighed. “Okay, he texted me this morning out of the blue. We sent a few texts back and forth, but they were no big deal. It was just about brownies, I swear. Then he didn’t answer for a while. Next thing I know, he’s in the bakery.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow. Then what happened?”

  I pulled on my braid. “We went for a walk and talked. I told him where my head was when we…”

  “Fucked. Go on.” She motioned for me to hurry.

  “Right. Well, anyway, he basically said he missed me. Well, not exactly. Anyway, the point is, that I bought him here because I thought that we would be able to talk without interruption, and I was going to tell him that I just want to be friends. But then you came in,” I added scathingly. “I had to tell him in a hurry when you started making your phone calls.”

  Cherry’s slanted eyes watched me skeptically. “The vein on the side of your head was about to pop when Zee touched him. You looked like you wanted to stuff a taco down her throat and watch her die.”

  Exasperated, I said, “Just because I told him I only wanted to be friends doesn’t mean I want to watch him hook up with another woman.”

  “If he is the kind of guy that would hook up with one of your friends at your party after he drove up here to see you and basically—but not exactly—told you he missed you, then he’s no guy worth being jealous about. Personally, I don’t think he’s that guy. Do you think he’s that guy?”

  Slowly, I shook my head. I didn’t believe that Connor was that kind of guy.

  “I didn’t know I was the jealous type,” I said with a small, embarrassed smile.

  “I don’t think you’re the jealous type. I think you’re just…confused. No matter how you look at it—whether it be from a friendship standpoint or something more than that—you and Connor are still…new. That makes it even harder to know what you want with him.”

  “I knew what I wanted with Cade right away,” I muttered.

  She shrugged. “Cade is different. That was at a different time in your life. A lot has happened since then. You aren’t the same person you were when you first started dating Caden. Don’t try to compare the two. Look.” She took my hand. “Let’s just go back out there, have a few drinks, eat some tacos, and have a good time. If you want to drive yourself loca about Connor, don’t do it during a Taco Margarita party. You’ll never be able to think straight anyway. Let it go, cut loose, and have fun. Think about it tomorrow.”

  Hesitantly, I nodded. She seemed satisfied with that and opened the door.

  Two more people had arrived, nearly maxing out the capacity of the apartment. Connor and Zee were still standing where we had left them, but when I stepped out of the room, he looked away from her and met my eyes. He turned to her, said something quickly, and then left her to come to me. I couldn’t help feeling mollified by that as I made my way to the kitchen. Connor and I reached it at the same time, but before either of us could say anything, Cherry handed me a fresh margarita.

  “I put an extra shot in there for you,” she said and then murmured close to me, “You need it.”

  Then she left us as alone as we could be with ten other people only a few feet away.

  “Are you okay?” Connor asked, concern drawn on his face.

  My own face pinched as I took my first sips of my drink. I was pretty sure that Cher had put more than one extra shot in it.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to smooth my features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone with a bunch of people you don’t know.”

  He glanced at the living room. “It’s okay. I’m not a shy guy. Everyone is pretty cool.”

  My eyes landed on Azeena. I probably should have bitten my tongue, but I said, “Zee is nice, isn’t she? And beautiful. And very single.”

  Zee was indeed beautiful. Her Pakistani roots were made apparent by her pale brown skin color and dark hair. She was better poised than anyone I knew, thanks to her strict upbringing. Sometimes I thought she was too good for us, but she never thought so, and maybe that was one of the reasons I liked her. Even as I considered it, I knew that even if she did like Connor, she wouldn’t sleep with him. Even though Azeena had rebelled against her parents and refused to marry the man she had been betrothed to since she was a small child, she still kept her legs closed. A man had to earn his way into her bed, and most didn’t, but I wondered if Connor was the type of man to be patient for a woman like her.

  “She is very pretty,” Connor said contemplatively.

  I looked away from Zee and found Connor looking at me, not at her.

  “But I’m not here for Zee, or Cherry, or tacos or margaritas. I’m here for one person. I’m going to go back in there and talk, laugh, and maybe even flirt a little. But no matter what I’m doing or who I’m talking to, I will be watching that one person all night. I’ll watch her serve up her tasty tacos with that smile of satisfaction she has when someone eats and enjoys her food. I’ll watch the way her nose scrunches and her eyes squint when she laughs. I’ll listen to her as she tries to school her accent and sound like a Yankee instead of sticking to her charming Southern roots when she talks. I will look at the long, blonde braid of her hair and remember what it looked like when it hung loose down her bare back and over the slopes of her breasts. I will repeatedly burn her face to my memory at every glance. I’ll feel her when she is near, soak her up and absorb every second she gives me, even though I am just her friend.”

  He held my gaze for long seconds before he finally turned away and went back into the living room.

  With a trembling hand, I lifted my glass to my lips and drank swiftly, so that I could swallow m
y wildly beating heart before it choked me.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Connor did talk and laugh with my friends, and—much to my chagrin—flirted. He even flirted with the one gay couple in the group. He fit in with our friends easily, as if he had always been one of them. I didn’t have to keep looking and listening to see if he would say something wrong and insult someone or piss someone off, leaving me to make apologies on his behalf. He didn’t hang back and stand off to the side as if he were bored with the company we kept.

  I felt his presence all night, felt his eyes on me. It was as if his gaze could physically touch me, and as if his desire for me was a tangible, living thing that floated lazily in the air between us. When I found myself close to him, my skin tingled, and goosebumps popped up on my arms.

  Our Taco Margarita parties usually started off innocently enough, but somehow we always ran out of everything except for tequila, limes, and salt, the perfect recipe for body shots. I typically didn’t participate in that activity, but that was when I was Cade’s girlfriend. I hadn’t been comfortable with it then, and he would have gone berserk if he’d found out some guy not only licked me but practically kissed me to take a lime. Caden wasn’t the kind of guy that would find it hot if I’d done it with a woman either. For him, I was off limits to both sexes.

  But I was no longer Cade’s girlfriend. Whatever we were to each other in that moment of time, it wasn’t boyfriend and girlfriend. I was twenty-three years old, at a party with fun people, good drinks, and good food. I wasn’t going to sit there and ponder over the details of my relationship with a man I had indeed broken up with, for all intents and purposes. With three shots of tequila, I drowned those thoughts. There would be plenty of time later to poke at and analyze my feelings and life with Caden.

  When the body shots first began, I was just a voyeur. It was fun to watch the various ways drunk, horny people did shots of tequila. Connor was also just an observer at first, but when Anthony, one-half of the gay couple, shook the salt shaker in Connor’s direction, he shrugged and stepped forward.

  “I’m confident enough in my sexuality,” he said, but then wriggled his eyebrows at Anthony. “Make it memorable, handsome.”