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She resisted making a joke about a well-traveled ambassador’s daughter preferring something fancier. There was no reason to give away that she knew more about her than she let on.

Alexandra: I love eating with my hands, but a bit messy for a first date, no?

Heat flooded her chest and dripped down her body.

Charlotte imagined what Alex’s fingers would taste like covered in her. She reminded herself that dinner would still have to go well before fantasy could become a reality.

Charlotte: I’m not afraid to get a little messy ... are you?

Alexandra: I’ll meet you there.

Glancing at the time on her phone, Charlotte realized she should’ve left ten minutes ago. Was Alex already in the car?

Jumping to her feet, Charlotte scrambled to get her stu .

As she strapped her bag to her shoulder, Charlotte realized she was disappointed. She hadn’t expected Alex to o er to drive to the restaurant together, at least not consciously. Despite that, there was a nagging feeling in her gut.

If Alex slipped out without her to avoid prying eyes or becoming the subject of gossip, that made sense. Making sense didn’t stop it from making her feel disappointed too.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Charlotte started for the door. This was an arrangement of her own making. She couldn’t let it bother her. Plus, it wasn’t like her actual emotions were implicated.

Dating Alex was a means to an end. The easiest way to earn her trust. That’s what she reminded herself as she walked by her o ce and saw that the light was o . It wasn’t a slight. She didn’t care. All that mattered was that she was waiting for her. They were about to go on a date, which meant she was one step closer to her real goal.

CHAPTER 18

PARKING HER LAND Rover on a narrow side street between a funeral home and a tiny blue building promising tacos, Alex slipped out of the driver’s seat and waited for Charlotte to drive up. She sidestepped the crushed beer cans piled up in the gutter and stood on the curb.

It was hot for late September, causing a sticky sheen to form on Alex’s lower back. She was glad she’d worn a thin white dress but wished she could shed the blazer.

A few minutes later, while Alex was busy looking down at her phone and ignoring colorful catcalls, Charlotte’s voice echoed down the street. Alex resisted the urge to smile as Charlotte stepped out of her sedan and started toward her.

“You found it,” Charlotte announced as she approached.

“I did.”

The unexpected tension rose quickly as they dithered awkwardly on the sidewalk, neither of them sure how to greet each other. Taking the plunge, Alex leaned forward, leaving a peck on Charlotte’s cheek. Her perfume was soft after a full day’s wear, but the fragrance was still intoxicating.

Together, they walked toward the very small building painted a vibrant blue. It was more of a shack than a building, but the sugar skulls painted all over the outside made it welcoming. With the sun close to setting, the white string lights connecting the restaurant to a lone palm tree were starting to sparkle over the handful of plastic tables lined up on the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry it’s better than it looks,” Charlotte promised, taking the lead as she zig-zagged around the mostly empty tables to pull open the door for her.

“I’m not worried,” she replied without explaining that she’d been to the hidden gem before.

Inside, they were greeted by a young lady in a blue polo standing behind a long counter and a line of patrons waiting to order. There was nowhere to sit inside, but that didn’t lessen the deafening ambient noise from an enormous television broadcasting a Spanish-language soap opera.

When it was their turn, Alex couldn’t help herself and leaned against the counter, making it clear she’d order first.

“Hola, tia,” she said, aware that her lispy Barcelona accent was on display before glancing at Charlotte. “Do you trust me?”

Surprise flashed in Charlotte’s eyes before she smirked.

After another moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

After ordering several di erent tacos, including tripe and tongue just to test Charlotte’s level of adventurousness, she glanced at her again. “Do you like mezcal?”

“I’ve never had it,” she admitted after a beat. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”

Alex winked. “You won’t regret it. It’s much better than tequila. Richer and smokier. They get it from their family farm in Oaxaca.”