Right now, my guess would be the latter, as there was a departed woman totally in our space bubble. The blonde stood against my shoulder, staring up at Reyes in wonder. In her defense, the departed were unused to being watched back. Maybe she didn’t know we could see her. Reyes was still studying my mouth, completely ignoring her, so I turned and pinned her with an annoyed frown.
Stepping back as though coming to her senses, she cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said a microsecond before disappearing. But not before one last longing glance at the prince of the underworld.
That answered that. At least in her case.
“Tell me what it’s like,” I said, gesturing toward the patrons with a nod. “What does it feel like to have them want you so badly? Is it, you know, because of your father?”
He dipped his head and didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did, it was a mere whisper on the air: “It feels… It feels like I’m drowning.”
I wrapped a hand behind his neck. Brought him even closer. “Reyes, I’m so sorry.”
The loose grip he’d had on my throat tightened minutely. “Your pity is hardly a step up.”
“Empathy,” I corrected, running my fingertips along the back of his neck soothingly. “And there’s little I can do about it.”
After another long moment of his probing gaze, he blinked to attention and released me. The coolness that rushed over me with his absence gave me goose bumps as he escorted me to the table. I sat down with Cookie, Uncle Bob, and my sister, Gemma, while Reyes strolled back to the kitchen to grab our lunches. Every head turned to watch him, conversations dying down as he passed, and I felt the weight of their emotions from where I sat. I felt the suffocating pressure. I felt him drowning, but he walked without betraying a hint of that distress.
The door swung back and he was already putting on the white apron he always wore. I sat there, marveling at how utterly stunning he was. Was there anything sexier than a hot guy in an apron, cooking? I could only hope he wouldn’t grow tired of me. Would we ever get tired of one another? Would our desire to be touched by the other, to be embraced, ever wane? I couldn’t imagine it, but I prayed not.
“So?” Gemma asked. Her brows arched in question as a lock of her blond hair pulled loose from a tidy chignon. She wore chignons and that particular navy blouse and skirt only when she was meeting someone important. Someone not me.
“Who’s the VIP?” I asked back as I dipped a blue corn tortilla chip into Reyes’s salsa, otherwise known as the devil’s dipping sauce. I absorbed the spice and heat with something akin to ecstasy. His salsa was becoming famous and he’d been asked to bottle it several times, but it was usually by women gazing at him with fire in their loins, and I was never sure if they were talking about bottling the salsa or Reyes himself.
I glanced over at him as he brought out our plates. Either way, I’d be the first in line to purchase at least a case.
“What VIP?” Gemma asked.
“Your duds. You never wear navy unless you’re meeting someone super important.
“Oh.” She looked down and shrugged. “It was all I had clean.”
“Ah,” I said, clearing a place for my plate. She was lying, but I’d let her. For now.
Reyes set down a plate for Cookie, Gemma, and Ubie, his long, sinuous arms flexing in a way that had me mesmerized. I tore my gaze away to see what was on the menu. Red chile enchiladas. Sweet. I glanced up at him askance, wondering where my plate was.
He waited as one of the new cooks brought up the last entrée. “I hope you like them,” he said, gesturing toward the plate.
“I love your enchiladas.” I gazed down at the flat enchiladas as he waited for us to sample them. A symphony of moans echoed around me as everyone took a bite, and while Reyes’s enchiladas were always to die for, their reactions were a mixture of ecstasy and surprise. I was a little worried Cookie was going to cl**ax, her expression was so sensual.
More curious than ever, I buried my fork, cutting through the soft blue corn tortillas and scooping a bite into my mouth. He sank beside me, balancing on the balls of his feet as I ate – and just like Cookie, I almost cl**axed. My taste buds were gifted with an explosion of unexpected flavors and textures, the spices warming my mouth.
I glanced at him. “You used chili. Oh, my god, this is amazing.”
A shy smile reshaped his features, and he bowed his head like a kid unable to take a compliment. The act was so charming, I reached out and put my hand on his cheek.
He kissed my palm quickly, then stood. “I’ll let you guys eat,” he said.
“Why don’t you join us?” Ubie asked, and I could tell the question surprised Reyes. It surprised me.
After a moment, he said, “I can’t, but thanks. I have to put out a few fires before this one —” He nodded toward me. “— runs headlong into a hot mess of trouble again.”
The appreciation in Uncle Bob’s expression was undeniable. “She’s a full-time job.”
I tried to be appalled, but when Reyes said, “She is indeed,” and bent to kiss me, my misgivings melted.
I watched him leave – his steely bu**ocks amazingly sexy, framed the way they were with the edges of the apron. I scooped up another bite before checking out the rest of the fare. He’d covered the papas with chili as well, topping them off with a ladle of warm red chile and cheese. It was like crack on a plate. And the scent helped mask the aroma of coffee lingering in the air. How would I ever get through the next eight months without the elixir of life?