“Oh, I love Mexican.”
“Then I’m already ahead. Any particular dish you’re partial to?”
“I do love Enchiladas Verde.”
I mentally thank my Abuelita for all the things she passed on to not only my mother, but me and my siblings as well. Proud of her heritage, she passed along so much knowledge it insured her legacy would live on. The Rodríguez family has a Verde sauce that could win awards.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I open the car door and take her hand as she steps in.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
Yes, you will, beautiful.
“Yep. Text me when you get home, so I know you made it okay?”
“I will.”
I step back. She blows me a kiss, starts the car, and drives out of the parking space.
I should’ve gotten her to the aquarium sooner. I laugh at myself as I retrace my footsteps, mentally making a list of the things I would need to make her a traditional meal. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Maybe it works the same way for women.
Chapter Five
Efia
With a full belly and a slight buzz from the white wine, I’m content and relaxed as I rest against Edgar’s side. He hadn’t exaggerated his cooking skills. The man threw down in the kitchen. One bite of his enchiladas and I was in heaven. The Verde sauce that came from an old family recipe rivaled what I’d eaten at restaurants. After helping do dishes, we migrated to the living room to watch television.
His arm around my shoulders is nice. I toy with his fingers as the movie winds to a close. His hands, like the man himself, are a contradiction of hard and soft. The callouses on his fingers come from cutting hair and woodworking.
“Edgar?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Can I see your shop?” I ask curiously.
“Sure. It’s in the back. I converted a shed. It has electricity and enough space for me to pursue my interests. It’s nothing fancy.”
“That’s okay,” I say with a shake of my head.
Standing, he offers me his hand, and I take it. The invisible sparks fly as the air between us crackles with possibilities. He drops my hand, and I feel the loss intensely. His jaw ticks and his nostrils flare; his dark brown eyes darken to nearly black.
Waves of desire crash against me, and I lick my lips.
He’s been the perfect gentleman so far, which I appreciate. Only, I’m daydreaming about watching him come undone. He places his warm hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the house to the back door. His heat sears my flesh. My breasts swell, and my nipples tighten as desire builds inside of me. There’s no relief to be found when we step into the muggy night air.
We walk to the tan structure. After unlocking the lock, he lifts the door and flips the light on. I drink in the space. My eyes dart from left to right, trying to take everything in. The shelves are filled with miniature sculptures. Drawn to it, I walk toward the left side of the structure which has been set up for whittling and woodwork. I run my fingers over tiny horses. The smooth finish and exact detail speak to his talent.
“These are amazing.”
“Thank you.”
I continue my exploration. The right side of the shed looks like a mad scientist’s laboratory with its hoses, containers, and funnels. I spot brown beer bottles and what look like tin mini-kegs.
“This is your brewing station I’m guessing?” I run my hands over the copper tubing, imagining him with safety goggles and a white lab coat. Smart and creative is a sexy combo.
“It is.”
“How long does it take to make a beer?”