Work Me Up

Her teeth close over her lower lip. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I take a step toward her. This time, at least, she doesn’t back away. “Just tell me what’s going on? I want to help, Selena. If I can.”

“You can’t.” She meets my gaze for a second. But she can’t hold it any longer than that. Still, it’s enough time for me to spot the shimmer of tears along the edges of her vision, before she looks at the floor again, and wipes angrily at her cheeks with a clenched fist. “Nobody can. So just drop it, okay? The best thing for me right now is to just… not think about it. Pretend it never happened.”

“Okay,” I say, slowly. “That sounds an awful lot like repressing your emotions, but hey, whatever you say.”

She snorts and shakes her head. But I notice a hint of a smile reappearing beneath the teary-eyed look. “Look, forget the beach, you’re right, I shouldn’t have called off.”

“I didn’t say that,” I reply, but she speaks over me.

“I’ll come back to the garage with you. Right now, let’s go.” She starts for the door, but I reach down and catch her wrist to stop her.

She feels so warm. So delicate. “I didn’t say that either, Selena. Besides…” I raise an eyebrow and look pointedly down at her sundress. “You’re going to work on a car in that? This is even worse than the tight jeans.”

She rolls her eyes. But she keeps her wrist in my grip. Twists around to face me, so we’re chest to chest, inches apart. Then she raises her chin and locks those dangerous dark eyes on mine. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t like my dress?”

“Not at all,” I reply, my gaze raking over her curves again, slower this time. “Though I do think it would look better on your bedroom floor,” I can’t help adding.

Her face flushes again, darker red now. “You’re impossible.”

I wink. “I try.” But I notice her gaze flicker, and I follow it, my eyebrows rising as I notice another photo in her hallway. It’s taken a few years earlier than the one I spotted in the living room, but it’s clearly a younger Selena and the same man from the other photo. Hugging again, arms draped around one another with casual intimacy. “Who’s that?” I ask, before I can think better of it.

“Nobody. Look, can we just go to the garage? I’ll grab a change of clothes.” She circles around me, and actually tries to push me toward the door. “Meet you outside in five?”

I glance from her to the photograph and back again. A million and one questions bubble up inside me. Who is that guy? A recent ex she’s still not over? Is that why she freaked out yesterday? Or is he something else to her?

I can’t figure it out. But to judge by the tense expression on her face, now isn’t the time to push for an answer. Now isn’t the time to force this girl into manual labor, either, so I plaster on an easy smile and shake my head. “I’ve got a better idea,” I tell her. “Leave the sundress on and come with me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

I gesture to her outfit. “You’re dressed for the beach. So let’s go to the beach.”

8

Antonio

Selena’s even more impossible to look away from as she trudges barefoot across a sandy beach, the sun bright on her skin and the wind whipping her hair across her eyes. I’m so busy staring at her backside that I miss her question. Something I only realize when she lets out a soft snort of laughter, and I lift my eyes to find her staring at me, smirking.

“Distracting you, am I?”

“Always,” I reply, completely honest. “What was the question, Your Honor? Or should I say Your Fineliness.”

She laughs louder this time. “That’s not a real word.”

I jog to close the gap between us and take advantage of her distraction to slap her ass lightly. She squeals, and I grin as she dances a step ahead of me, then whirls around to land a fist in the middle of my chest. Somehow, that fist turns into her standing right before me, her palm flattened over my heart, her eyes fixed on mine as I gaze down at her, smiling.

“Sure it is,” I reply. “I just made it an official title and everything, Your Fineliness.”

“You’ve got to stop that,” she says, although it’s through a broad smile.

“Why?” I arch an eyebrow. “I need some incentive, Your Fineliness.”

She tilts her head sideways and squints her eyes at me. “Because if you don’t stop, then I’m not going to let you defile me later tonight?” she says, though her voice lilts up at the end of the sentence, giving the game away.