My Bestie's Ex (The Rooftop Crew Book 1) Page 5

  I swivel my chair in her direction and she crosses her legs, positioning herself my way too.

  “You’re not a stranger. You’re my co-worker.”

  “True, but you just met me.” I flick my wrist to check my watch. “Not even twenty-four hours ago.”

  She grabs my wrist like she needs to see the time for herself. Her fingertips on my skin bring a rush of heat right to my groin. “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life.”

  She’s right. Somehow it feels like we’ve known each other all our lives. There’s a comfort level between us normally only there after time and proximity. I’m a lucky guy for finding her on that train.

  The bartender breaks up our conversation, placing Blanca’s margarita down in front of her. “Menus?” he asks.

  “Please,” she says. Not one glance my way to see if I’m on board. Her confidence is sexy as hell.

  Maybe it’s because my mom always catered to my dad. Nothing was final until he ruled on the decision. Ever since I can remember, a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t looking to me for permission is an aphrodisiac for me.

  As though already prepared, the bartender hands us two menus and heads down the bar to serve other patrons.

  “Have you been here before?” she asks, her eyes never leaving the menu.

  “Yeah, the carne asada is fantastic.” I place my menu down.

  She eyes the movement and flicks her gaze to me. “That’s what you’re getting?”

  I sense judgment in her tone. “Um… yeah?”

  “This place is called Las Tacos, right?”

  “And?”

  “Have you had the tacos?” She flips through the menu, gaze darting from one side of it to the other.

  “I’m not a taco kind of guy.”

  She gasps like I said I don’t like cake or something. “If they think highly enough of their tacos to name the entire restaurant after them, I say you should try some.”

  I pick up the menu to peruse it some more but think better of it and place it back down. “Okay, how about you order for me?”

  Her eyebrows crinkle and she shakes her head. “No.”

  “I’m not a hard guy to please, don’t worry.” I wink and she smiles for a second.

  “You already said you aren’t a taco guy.”

  I shrug and grab my beer from the bar top. “I’m willing to try anything once.”

  “You’re serious?”

  I nod and tip my beer back for a sip. Once I place it back down, I set my gaze on her. “Very. Order for me something I’ll dream about tonight. Something no other meal in my life will ever compare to.” I grin.

  Her attention moves to the menu and all I can think of is how cute she looks when she’s thinking really hard. I caught her earlier today at her desk when I made the lame joke from Office Space about Mondays and she had a pen wedged between her teeth while her hand was on her mouse scrolling and clicking.

  She can’t be as great as she seems. I mean, no one is this perfect.

  She lays the menu down on the bar top with a smack. “Okay. I’ve decided.”

  “What am I having?”

  We lock eyes and there’s silence for a moment as sexual tension swirls between us rising to an almost catastrophic level until she clears her throat. “You’re having three different tacos, beans and rice. And we’re having nachos as an appetizer.”

  I nod. “Cool.”

  Her pink lips cover the edge of the margarita glass and she sips it, leaving the residue of her lip gloss on the glass. “You’re very easy,” she says. “My brothers would have been like, ‘screw you.’”

  “I’m not your brothers.”

  “I’m well aware.” She chuckles.

  Again, silence falls between us and my fingers itch to touch her thigh that’s resting only millimeters away. I clench my hand. She’s my co-worker and I can’t cross that line.

  “What are you writing about this week?” I ask just to give us something to talk about and occupy my brain from thoughts of what she might look like naked.

  She side glances me while taking another sip of her margarita. “And have you steal my idea?”

  “How can I steal your idea when I write for the opposite sex?”

  She looks me over like she’s trying to do an honesty test with just her eyes acting as judge and jury. I kind of like the way they stop at waist level and then slowly draw up my chest until our eyes meet once again. From the pink on her cheeks, I’d say she likes what she sees.

  “You could spin it to work for you.” She shrugs.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you first. I’m doing the ten best hoodies for fall.”

  “Hoodies? In July?”

  “Yes, hoodies for the fall.”

  She haws and tilts her head like okay, but clearly doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Costco is already selling snowsuits, so it’s not like I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “This is the part where you tell me what you’re doing…”

  She smiles and sips her drink again, twirls the glass in her hand, the ice clinking together. “I’m doing five ways to be a better friend.”

  “This coming from experience? You have close friends?”

  She seems like the type. The kind of girl that has a group of lifelong best friends. I only have Dylan and lately it’s felt like Sierra won him when we broke up. I don’t blame the guy, he tried to keep the peace but knowing Sierra she doesn’t make it easy.

  “I’ve grown apart from some, but most of them are in the city.”

  “But yet you live in Cliffton Heights now?”

  She giggles, shaking her drink which I figure out is a distraction technique. “I reconnected with a friend a month or so ago and it was like old times. It all seemed to fit, you know?”

  “You miss the city?”

  She shrugs. “Sometimes, but I do like the small-town feel.”

  “Cliffton Heights is small town?”

  She pushes me in the shoulder, and I tip a bit on my stool but recover quickly. “Compare it to New York City and yes, it’s small town.”

  “So violent.” I rub my shoulder like she hurt me.

  “Sorry, reflex from having three brothers. It was a way to get them to pay attention to me.”

  I pick up my beer. “How do you like the magazine so far?”

  She nods. “No complaints except for the guy next to my cubicle.” She rolls her eyes in dramatic fashion and I just know the smile on my face looks cheesy as hell.

  “Yeah? I bet he’s like the hottest guy you’ve ever seen.”

  She shrugs. “He’s all right.”

  I shake my head and take a pull of my beer. “Just all right?”

  “I haven’t quite figured him out yet.”

  “I bet he’s a great guy you should spend more time with. You know, to get to know him better.”

  The waiter finally comes back and takes our order, which I’m thankful for. I could use the breather to remind me not to flirt too much with her.

  He walks away and we start a conversation about our families. She tells me all about her three brothers and their significant others. How there’s a baby coming from her oldest brother and she’s sure to be shoved out of the picture. The love and affection she holds for her family is obvious throughout the conversation. The jealousy that’s always present whenever I hear about someone with a normal childhood strikes but it’s not as jarring as usual. I’m happy she never had to grow up the way I did.

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “What about me?”

  “What’s your family like?” She tilts her head to the side, waiting for my answer.

  This is where it always goes south with the woman I’m interested in. Because she doesn’t want to hear the stories of my mom using food stamps to buy groceries. The sighs from people behind us when we had to have the cashier take products off because we didn’t have enough money. She wants to hear stories about sibling arguments and Christmas traditions. I’m not sure receiving a g
ift from a rich family who thought they were doing good out in the suburbs is what she’s expecting.

  “I have a younger sister. She just graduated from NYU.”

  Her eyes widen. “That’s awesome. What was her major?”

  “Education.”

  “Great profession.”

  Except it makes no money. Not that being a writer is filling my bank account right now, but I wanted her to pick something more secure financially.

  “Her first job is at a small catholic school. Pay is horrible.”

  “Happiness isn’t about money.” She tsks with her finger like she’s my mother.

  Except my mom never told me that.

  “You can’t survive without money. A big heart doesn’t put food on your table or a roof over your head.” I sip my beer knowing I need to leave the bitterness from my childhood buried, at least for our first time out together.

  “That’s extreme, but I did leave my job in finance to write and I did it because I was unhappy.”

  Shit, I knew she was different. But to throw away a life where you might never have to worry about money for one that is unstable in today’s market is a big gamble. No one wants print anymore. Newspapers, magazines, they’re all becoming obsolete. “I’m not sure if that’s stupid or brave.”

  “You sound like two of my brothers.”

  “Not all three?”

  A big smile warms her face. “Dom, the married one with the baby on the way, he had a big revelation this past year. He pushed me to make the change and so far I’m happy I did.”

  I knock her shoulder with mine. “It’s only day one.”

  She holds my gaze and shivers scatter along the back of my neck. “I know.”

  Yeah, I need to listen to my gut more often. I think staying at the tech magazine would’ve been much easier.

  Chapter Seven

  Blanca

  Ethan is either a serial dater or he’s taken classes on how to charm a woman because I’ve never felt more listened to, more understood, more wanted—and he hasn’t even laid a single finger on me. I think he’s trying to mask it but the desire in his eyes makes my skin burn. The way his gaze holds mine while I’m talking. His eyes soften when I talk about my family, roll when I talk about my evil ex-boss, and light up when I make a corny joke. He’d win me over with all of that, but it’s his eyes when I’m not speaking that have me ready to pull him into an alley and kiss him senseless.

  “Have you been to Scrumtuals yet?” he asks.

  “Scrumtuals?” I scrunch my forehead. What a weird name.

  He chuckles. “It’s not sexual. Well, unless chocolate makes you…” His words trail off and a light blush hits the center of his cheeks. Needless to say it’s adorable. “It’s a dessert place. Only serves dessert and they’re small portions so you can try a bunch.”

  “Oh. For a second I thought this… work meeting was going in a different direction.”

  His hands are shoved into his pockets as we walk side-by-side toward the downtown portion of Cliffton Heights. Other than coming and going from the train last Sunday, I haven’t had much of a chance to explore.

  “How long have you lived here?” I ask to break up the awkwardness when he doesn’t respond to my last statement.

  He thinks about it for a second. “Two years? Shit, it doesn’t feel that long.”

  “And you like it?”

  He glances at me and smiles. “I do. I almost moved back to the city a few months ago, but then I found the job at Mars And Venus.”

  “Is that your end game? To work at Mars And Venus?”

  He laughs and opens the door to a cute bakery with a black and white striped awning adorning the outside. When I step inside I see that it’s decorated in pale pink, light green, and white.

  How did I miss this place?

  A sweet sugary scent wraps me up in a blanket and instantly, I’m in love.

  “This might be the best work meeting I’ve ever been on.” I elbow him and he bites his lower lip, his eyes absorbing my excitement.

  “Yeah. Tacos and a dessert bar. Great combo.”

  He takes out a tray and heads down the line of cupcakes, brownies, cakes, pies, and cookies. Everything is mini and it all looks like a small piece of heaven.

  “Come to daddy.” He places a plate of mini chocolate covered pretzels on the tray.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  “What?”

  “Chocolate covered pretzels when you have all this gooey cakey goodness right here in front of you?”

  He shrugs. “I like chocolate covered pretzels.”

  I nod, grabbing a whoopie pie and a brownie.

  “Don’t hold back,” he says, allowing me to handle the tray which I happily take charge of.

  “I don’t intend to. You’re just my co-worker, so you can sit there and watch me consume thousands of calories in desserts. Not like this isn’t just about business, right?”

  I can do this all night. I will not slip up and call this a date.

  He chuckles and his tongue slides out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip. I can’t stop myself from wondering what he tastes like.

  “I like a woman with a healthy appetite. Especially if I can feed it to her.”

  “TMI for a work meeting, Ethan,” I say, grabbing some truffles.

  He leans in closer to me and whispers, “Nah, TMI would’ve been if I told you I like to feed them to her naked after I’ve already fucked her brains out.”

  Ethan steps away and walks down the counter to where coffees, hot chocolate, and tea are served while I stand there, thighs clenched together inhaling a deep breath in an attempt to bring my body temperature down.

  He starts to converse with the woman behind the counter and I remain where I am—in shock, motionless, and wishing he’d call mercy.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  I look down to a cute kid waiting expectantly, pick up my tray and let him pass by. “Thank you,” he says and his mom smiles at me as they pass.

  “You’re welcome. You have a very polite son,” I say to her.

  She smiles like I made her day and they continue on their way.

  Ethan returns with nothing in his hands and doesn’t mention his previous comment. The one that makes me want to take these desserts to go and have him fuck my brains out and feed them to me post orgasm. How can he look so calm and collected?

  He walks along the winding tiers of desserts without rushing me or mentioning how there’s no possible way I can eat them all. But hey, isn’t that what takeout boxes are for?

  “Ice cream!” I say a little too loud and he chuckles next to me. He’s not annoyed because I just announced it to the entire restaurant, but his laugh seems more like, ‘she’s awesome am I right?’

  Why does he have to be my co-worker?

  I open up the freezer and sure enough it’s filled with small containers in a variety of flavors.

  “Did you kill me and we’re in heaven?” I ask.

  “No. But I kind of feel like we should’ve skipped the tacos and came straight here.”

  “I’d agree with you, but then you wouldn’t have experienced the best tacos ever.” I hit him in the stomach, which I realize is as rock hard as I thought it would be, and then grab a container of chocolate ice cream.

  “You sure do like to hit a lot.”

  Crap. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” I forget how used to hitting my brothers I am. Seems I’m way too comfortable with Ethan.

  “Are you crazy?” He holds up his arms and flexes. “You’re a little thing.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Rule number one if we’re going to be work BFFs is that I don’t like words that have anything to do with little. No squirt or pint or mini.”

  “Work BFFs?”

  A smile wraps around my lips. “Sure. Day one and we’ve already gone out for drinks and dessert. You clearly love what I love—Mexican food and sugar. The bagel you brought in this morning looked awesome. Wouldn’t mind one of those myself
. We’re a match. You know how people have work husbands and wives? You can be my work husband.” I rest my head on his arm. “You know, because you don’t date people you work with.”

  I pick up the tray and the woman wearing a cute fifties-inspired outfit rings us up. Ethan pays and grabs the tray to find a table.

  The woman hands me a to-go box. Little does she know what this body can consume. I take it in order to not be rude and follow Ethan to the table.

  He sets the tray on the table. “I’m going to grab our hot chocolates.”

  I watch him cross the room. There’s a group of women at another table slyly checking him out. He smiles and thanks the employee behind the counter, then says something else I can’t make out. She laughs, handing him two chocolate covered plastic spoons.

  I’ve seen women lose their footing around my brothers. Confident, successful women who somehow can’t find their words because they find them intimidatingly handsome. I thought I was immune to that sort of thing. I’ve never been at a loss for words around a guy, but Ethan is different.

  Somehow this thing between us feels like it could be big, but the co-worker thing is definitely a problem. A problem big enough that he’s put the brakes on anything developing between us.

  I should listen to him, he’s obviously smarter than my sex drive.

  “Courtesy of Betty.” He hands me one of the plastic spoons and places the hot chocolates on the table.

  “Betty, huh?” I look past him. “Betty looks younger than me.”

  He chuckles, sliding into his chair. “I don’t think Betty is her real name unless it’s a family name.”

  “Or we’ve warped back to the nineteen fifties and Kenickie is picking her up after her shift.”

  “Hell, I bet Kenickie is the cook.”

  My eyes search the restaurant. I don’t see one male employee. “Oh, do they dare date, being co-workers and all?”

  Ethan watches me steadily until I fidget under his scrutiny. “Let me ask you a question?” He slides his chair closer, his hot chocolate and dessert untouched. Meanwhile, I’m already deep into my whoopie pie and ice cream. “Do you want to explore this?” He waggles his finger between us.