Only Trick

Sometimes it’s not worth the fight. I shrug. “It’s true, I do.”

Grady and Tamsen fall into a fit of laughter, clearly not expecting my admission. I lean back and kiss Trick’s jaw and whisper in his ear. “I like you like a Greek statue—sculpted, naked, and hard.”

From my mouth to his cock, I feel him come to life under my butt as he grabs my hips and adjusts my position on him. If anyone’s keeping score, I think I just took the lead.

“So what about you, Darby, are you going to look for a job too?”

I frown at Grady. “Yes, but it won’t be in my chosen field. I’m not licensed to practice in Mexico.”

“Aren’t you going to miss your job?” Tamsen looks at me with a hint of sympathy.

I look at Trick and smile in spite of the concern lining his face. He, too, is waiting for my answer. “That’s the funny thing … I always imagined finding my purpose and I thought I had. Then my real purpose found me and being with him is all that matters. So I’ll find some job to feel like I’m making a contribution and to make my share of the rent of course.” I wink at Trick. “But for now, I’m just living in the moment … and it’s a pretty damn good one.”

My statement earns me another we’re-the-only-ones-in-the-room kiss.

“I fucking love you.”

“You’d better, because I moved to sunny Mexico with you and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a redhead with fair skin.”

“You must be adapting … I noticed you have a nice bikini tan line already—hipster-boyshorts, nice!” Grady grins.

Being around Grady, I’m not sure how I ever believed Trick was gay. What guy can identify the correct bikini bottom name from a tan line? Then again, I hate even thinking such stereotypical thoughts. That’s Nana’s thing. I also hate that he’s actually seen my tan line.

“Grady, it’s okay to not speak every thought that pops in your head.” Tamsen pinches his lips together.

“We should grab an early dinner. What do you think?” I once again veer the conversation in a direction suitable for me.

“I’m in!” Tamsen hops up. “Let me go change out of my travel clothes.

“Ditto, sister.” Grady follows her upstairs with their suitcases.

I pivot my body so I’m facing Trick, straddling his lap. “You are in a shitload of trouble, mister.”

He sucks in my bottom lip and drags it through his teeth while gripping my hips. “You can take it out on me in bed later.”

“Tamsen’s sleeping with me, remember?”

Trick assaults my neck. “Like hell …” he mumbles against my skin.

*

“I can’t believe we’re going to the Hotel California for dinner.” Tamsen laughs as we ride in the backseat of my red Saab.

“We’re in Todos Santos, of course we’re going to the Hotel California. It’s historic and I’ve heard the chef at the restaurant is amazing!” Grady wipes clean his sunglasses and slips them on. “Did you know the hotel was founded by Mr. Wong, a Chinese immigrant? He wanted the locals to think he was Mexican so he changed his name to Don Antonio Tabasco. However, he was eventually called ‘El Chino,’ which means ‘The Chinese Man.’ He brought ice from La Paz to his restaurant making him the first and only place at the time that served cold beer.”

Tamsen rests her hand on my arm. “Grady is an encyclopedia of useless information.”

“Don’t be catty, little sis.”

Through the rear view mirror I see Trick holding tight to his smirk.

“So it wasn’t owned by the Eagles?” I wink at Tamsen.

Grady shakes his head and flips his wrist back at me. “No, of course not, silly girl. Did you know there have been many firsthand accounts of spirits and ghosts in the courtyard of the hotel?”

Both Tamsen and I snicker.

“Let me repeat … useless information.”

Grady scowls at his sister, trying to hide his own grin.

Our early dinner guarantees us immediate seating and the next couple of hours fill with crazy laughter about Trick and Grady’s gay charade that has put them both in the worst situations over the years. Tamsen and I find ourselves giggling just to giggle by the time Grady orders a third bottle of wine. Trick watches me with a curious mix of amusement and caution as I down another glass of red wine. He’s the only sober one at our table.

“Darby, did they catch whoever assaulted your father?”

Grady’s words try to pull at my conscience, but it’s been drowned in wine. Yet, I still have plenty of snickering available. “I don’t think so.” I rest my hand on Trick’s leg. “What do you think, sweetie? Do you think they caught the guy that broke into a U.S. senator’s secured estate, disabled the security cameras, and assaulted him while he was still in his monogrammed Zimmerli pajamas.”