Page 7 of Love Off Course

Sheridan

I ’m warm.

Too warm.

It’s not because of the idiot pilot half naked and dancing. It’s from the tequila and the lack of air conditioning in this hot-ass restaurant. Definitely not the way he moves his hips.

Oh my God.

“I would destroy that boy in bed,” Damian reveals, whispering loudly. “Absolutely wreck him.”

Camilo, totally oblivious, continues shaking his nice ass in his obnoxious yellow swim trunks. His back is muscular and tanned and sculpted with a black crow tattooed on it.

If I were a single girl like Estefania, I would totally get drunk enough to have sex with him. Totally. But I’m not a free bird, I am a Reid girl. I’m a tiger and I eat little crows like him for dinner.

“Those shorts ought to be outlawed,” Damian hisses, poking my arm. “You can see everything , honey.”

Oh my God.

Warmth blooms across my chest and up my throat. You can most definitely tell he’s packing something monstrously wonderful in his shorts. With every thrust of his hips to the music, we get a little preview.

I suck down my Sprite, er tequila, and try not to drool.

After our little fight and subsequent bathroom encounter, I’ve tried to stay away from Camilo.

He’s been dancing and talking and laughing.

Terrorizing everyone in the near vicinity.

Though they seem amused and entertained by him, especially Carson.

They’re two obnoxious, hot as sin peas in a pod.

“Since you’re not a lez, you totally should ride that Mexican cowboy. If you don’t, I’m gonna borrow one of Estefania’s dresses and make that happen.” Damian sighs. “Lord, look at those buns.”

Above the music playing from an old jukebox, I can hear the wind picking up. A prickle of worry washes over me. I haven’t exactly waited for a tropical storm to hit before. I’m supposedly in the path of one and Daddy’s not even here to assure me everything will be okay.

Thinking about Daddy makes me think about David.

Smart. Educated. Rich. Brilliant.

Boring.

I cringe at that thought. David’s not boring. He knows a lot about architecture and historical stories and wine. He once explained to me over dinner the importance of farmers in a booming technological world. David is interesting.

We’ve kissed a few times, mostly when he’s had a little too much wine.

The one time we had sex, I’d been thrilled.

It was sloppy and over quick. I’d been a little disappointed, but Daddy didn’t raise a quitter.

I figured it would get better with age. The next morning he surprised me with room service before driving me home.

It wasn’t awkward after. I didn’t think about how I wanted passion and heat and love but was given three minutes of sweaty thrusting.

It was the wine. The next morning, my David was charismatic and a gentleman.

But not my boyfriend.

I try not to let that bother me. I really do. He’s a busy man. Simply needs a little nudging in the female department, I think.

“Oh hell no,” Damian grumbles. “Mexican Barbie is mackin’ on your man!”

Mexican Barbie?

I glance over at Estefania, but she’s in deep conversation with Lawton and Kyle. The restaurant is now full of people who seem to be very familiar with one another. The Barbie in question is prowling over to Camilo. A little burst of jealousy shoots up my spine.

Jealousy.

No way.

But as I stare at the way she dances smoothly to the music, her dark brown hair swaying with her hips that are wrapped in a tight dress, I do feel irritated. He smiles at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not like when he smiles at me.

Triumph fills me.

“I’ve got you, boo,” Damian whispers, playfully tugging at my hair before standing. “Girlfriends have to have each other’s backs.”

Oh no.

He prances—yes, he prances like a runway diva—right in between Camilo and the beautiful woman. Once he’s at the jukebox, he bends over and wriggles his bubble butt as he chooses a song.

Two seconds later, “Lola” by The Kinks starts its familiar guitar twang. Damian, already falling into the character of Lola, starts dancing toward Camilo. He bats his lashes at Camilo and gives him the come-hither look.

“ Cuervo is a great dancer,” the cook says to me, patting a meaty hand on my shoulder as he starts clearing off the table of empty glasses. “I taught him when I was wooing his mother, though he’ll argue it.”

Cuervo .

My attention is drawn back to the way Lola tries to seduce her man just like in the song.

Camilo is a good sport and laughs, matching her antics with his own.

They dance well together, both their hips moving in tandem with the beat of the song.

Their silliness and over-the-top singing and dancing is… refreshing.

Not the word I was looking for, but it’s true.

Daddy or David wouldn’t be caught dead dancing with Damian, who’s barely held together by expensive spandex.

Yet, Camilo is on his knees, just like the guy in the song, singing to his Lola .

Carson is riling everyone up and cheering them on.

Estefania’s giggles poke their way right into my heart that I thought had long been hardened.

Lola does some fancy little dance move that makes her junk bounce and I lose it. I just lose it. A laugh bubbles up. Then another one. I can’t stop it and it feels so foreign. Tears well in my eyes as I fight for control. When Estefania realizes I’m laughing, she starts to cackle even harder.

The song finishes all too soon and Lola gives Camilo a big smooch.

Camilo squirms, but Lola ’s a man after all, and easily steals the kiss he wanted.

Camilo swats him away, grinning. His nearly black eyes latch on to mine and something shifts in the air.

I blame the change in barometric pressure, which is all Rodrigo’s fault.

Regardless, Camilo makes his way over to me, no longer interested in the pretty brunette who was moments ago trying to make conversation.

“You should put on a shirt,” I tell him, only mildly irritated I can see all his glorious abs as Estefania puts it. Good God are they glorious.

“You should take yours off.”

“Ass.”

He smirks, flexing his pectorals. “I prefer ace.”

Cocky asshole.

Our arguing is cut short as the cook gets everyone’s attention. It’s then I realize he’s set up a long table nearby with all sorts of pans of food. I don’t do buffets. Ew. But, damn does it look good. My stomach, because of the heavenly smells, has been growling for an hour.

Damian comes up behind me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and leans in to whisper, “Totally saved you, girl. You owe me one.”

“Henry,” Doris says, walking up to us. “Son, that pink is bright.”

Damian whines, because he clearly doesn’t like being remembered as this woman’s son. “Bright is the new black.”

“What?” she yells.

“I said—” Damian starts, but she cuts him off as she whispers loudly to the bitchy maid from earlier.

“That’s my son Henry. He’s a great dancer. Takes after my Dale.”

The maid smiles warmly at her. “And that’s my son, Camilo. He learned how to dance from my Eduardo.”

The two begin talking and I dart my eyes to Camilo. His mom is the bitchy maid? Of course she is.

“Your mom’s the maid and your dad’s the cook?” I ask, frowning.

His lip curls up. “Eduardo isn’t my dad.”

I note his suddenly pissy attitude as he stands and stalks over to the buffet table. Eduardo, with his big mustache, proudly explains all the dishes. He keeps swiping the sweat off his brow with a filthy kitchen rag and I want to gag.

No way in hell I’m eating that food.

Don’t they have health inspectors around here?

I watch as Camilo goes through the line, now cheerfully chatting it up with Carson. I guess I was the cause of his bad mood. After he has an obscenely high pile of food on his plate, he walks back over to me.

“ Come, abejita. ” He sets the heaping plate in front of me.

“I beg your pardon?—”

“It’ll be a long night if you don’t put some food in your stomach with the way you’ve been sucking the Corralejo down. Eat, little bee.”

My stomach grumbles angrily, arguing the case along with him.

Finally, I give in and take an exaggerated bite of a taco.

As soon as the flavor hits my tongue, I moan.

Oh my God, it’s the best taco I’ve ever tasted.

I shoot Camilo a surprised look, but he’s already headed back up to make himself a plate.

“This is going straight to my ass,” Damian says as he sits beside me. “The world can thank me later. This bootylicious booty doesn’t come without effort. Right, Kyle? Kyle!”

His normally exasperated assistant is in line, smiling at Estefania. He seems like a nice kid, so I’ll allow it. But if he looks at her wrong, I’ll go give that boy the what for.

“You’re hissing,” Damian says. “Is it because the lioness in heat is stalking our sexy Mexi in the buffet line?”

It takes me a second to decode all his confusing lingo.

Then, I zero in on the girl from before. She has her palm on Camilo’s back, turning her head up to talk to him. I don’t like the way she looks at him, which is stupid considering I have no claim on him. I don’t even like him.

Definitely don’t like him.

“If Kyle messes with Estefania, I’ll make him regret the day he ever met me.” I smile sweetly at Damian.

Rather than being shocked, he cackles. “Perhaps you’re a Decepticon.”

“A what?”

“Villain, honey. You’ve got villain eyes.”

At least the villains have cool cars.