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“Oh my god, what an ass,” I grumble to myself, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. There really is no getting out of this now. He didn’t tell me anything about my date except his first name and where to meet him. I’m understanding now why his phone number wasn’t included, because Robbie knew I’d try to get out of it at the last minute and this way I can’t. Not without being a total asshole and standing the guy up.

“I bet you get that a lot.” Bas is back in the window, holding a paper bag with the Holy Guacamole logo on it—a taco with wings and a halo—and grinning.

“What?” I frown.

“‘What an ass,’” he repeats what I just said, except instead of the annoyance I uttered it with, his tone is downright flirtatious.

Oh.

Oh.

Heat rises rapidly in my cheeks, and I bark out a tense laugh, reaching out to snag the bag from him. He’s just being goofy, right? He’s not actually sayingIhave a nice ass. I am not going to be that guy who thinks the waiter is flirting with him when all he’s trying to do is score a better tip.

“Thanks,” I mumble, fumbling to hand him a ten-dollar bill, then stuffing a few more bills into the tip jar.

“You’re welcome, Precious. I accidentally made too much meat, so there’s an extra taco in there for you and plenty of sour cream.” He winks and then disappears back inside before I can mutter another clumsy, “Thanks.”

ChapterTwo

Bas

“Hope you’re hungry, Hermano. I brought tacos,” I call out to my brother as I nudge the door shut with my elbow and kick off my shoes.

The apartment is dark, but his shoes are next to the door, so I know he’s home.

“Tony?” I call out, setting the tacos on the kitchen counter as I pass through.

There’s a light shining under the bathroom door, and I remember that he has some kind of blind date scheduled for tonight. I chuckle and pound on the door.

“Shaving your pubes in case you get lucky?” I tease. “I think there’s a box of condoms under the sink if you need them.”

I’m expecting him to shout something back about how long it’s been since I’ve needed to bother taming my bush or that the condoms are probably expired if I’m the one who bought them. Instead, there’s a retching sound on the other side of the door.

“Tony?” I put my hand on the doorknob. “You okay?”

“No,” he croaks.

My pulse skyrockets and I push the door open without hesitating. Whatever state he’s in, I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Hell, I cleaned him up when he got so drunk he shit himself on his twenty-first birthday.

The sour smell of vomit and sweat hits me immediately, making my stomach clench and bile rise in the back of my throat. Tony is hunched over the toilet in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, his sweat-drenched hair flopping over his forehead. He coughs and spits, then pushes his hair back.

“Gross, you smell like tacos,” he rasps.

“Yeah, well, you smell like vomit.”

He laughs weakly then shrugs. “Must’ve caught a stomach bug. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” I eye him, trying to decide whether I should offer to grab him some ginger ale or insist on taking him to the hospital.

He nods. “Yeah. I need a favor though.”

He reaches to flush the toilet and then clambers to his feet. I lean against the doorframe while he turns on the tap and rinses out his mouth, waiting for him to tell me what he needs. My guess is he’s going to ask me not to tell Abuelita that he’s sick. She’ll be over here making a big pot of Caldo de Polla in no time, insisting it’s the cure for any ailment.

“You going to make me guess, Hermano?” I arch an eyebrow.

“My date,” he says with a hint of pleading in his weak, raspy voice.

I drag my gaze over his pale, sweaty face again as he braces his hands on the sink to keep himself upright.