Page 13 of Romancing the Clone (Sunrise Cantina #3)

CHAPTER

TWELVE

SIMONE

I approach Sunrise Cantina, unsurprised to see that there’s a crowd outside already.

They have a small wooden shingle sign that hangs out front, but someone’s made an enormous cloth banner and painted on it GRAND OPENING - SUNRISE CANTINA .

It hangs over the face of the building, and seeing the bold, colorful English lettering gives me nostalgia.

If I ignored the fact that there are some aliens standing out front, or that the moon hanging in the sky looks nothing like the moon back home, I might feel like I’m back on Earth.

Getting in line, I juggle the heavy cake in my arms. One of the a’ani, Erzah, is acting as bouncer. He notices me and gestures that I should move forward. “What’s this?” he asks, grinning. “A cake for me?”

“A cake for all of you,” I correct. “To celebrate the grand opening.”

“You’re a taint,” he says, his smile growing even broader.

“A…what?”

“Saint,” someone yells out. “Saint, not taint.”

“Oh.” He shrugs sheepishly and holds the door open for me and Pluto. “Close enough, right?”

“Super close,” I agree, then have to bite my lip not to burst into giggles. The crowd parts and lets me walk into the doorway.

The interior of the cantina is a little warmer than it is outside, but no one seems unhappy about it.

The decor looks like a bistro back home.

There’s a long wooden bar at the back, and every barstool is full.

Every table is, too, and Jerzec is racing between them, refilling glasses of water.

Something cooking smells like stir-fry, and my stomach growls.

I scan the room looking for Ruth-Ann, and my heart flips momentarily at the sight of the small woman behind the bar.

The spiky hair and equally spiky facial jewelry tell me that it’s Ruthie and not Ruth-Ann, though.

She’s shaking drinks while Kaz pours, and it’s clear they’re working as a team.

Jerzec races past me and then skids to a stop, his eyes wide. He looks down at the cake and then up at me, grinning. “Is that for us?”

“It is!” I glance around at the crowded floor. “It’s packed in here.”

“Kef me, I noticed.” He wipes at his brow. “I’m trying to handle the floor, but Dopekh was supposed to help and bailed out. Romance troubles. You know how it goes.”

Is that a jab or just a clueless remark? I make a sound in my throat that might be assent. “Where’s Ruth-Ann?”

“In the back helping Zaemen fill orders.”

“Is it okay that Pluto is in here with me?” I tilt my head, gesturing at the carinoux at my side. “He’ll behave.”

“Sounds fine.” He shakes his empty water pitcher. “Can’t talk more, gotta run. Just take the cake in the back.”

“Will do,” I say as he races off. Poor thing. He looks frazzled, and this opening is supposed to be a fun day for them.

I scoot through the crowd, making excuses and apologies as I move toward the back of the packed cantina. Ruthie waves at me from her spot at the bar. I move to her side and gesture at Pluto. “Can you babysit for me for a few minutes?”

“Oh my god, yes! Look at this sweet boy!” She offers her hand to Pluto, and when he licks her fingers, she flings her arms around him and cuddles him, talking in a baby voice. “I bet we can get you some cheese snacks, baby boy! Yes, you’re sooo cuuute.”

“Ruthie. Drinks,” Kaz says, shaking a mixing container. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Right!” She jumps back to her feet and points. “Ruth-Ann’s in the kitchen. That way.”

“Thanks.” There’s a swinging door to the side of the bar with a circular window, and I push through it with the cake.

The kitchen is not quite as crazy as outside.

By the enormous grill, Zaemen flips what look like burgers, an enormous yellow apron covering his front.

A few steps away, Ruth-Ann has her back to me, pulling fresh buns out of the oven.

She turns around and her mouth parts in surprise at the sight of me. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi there,” I say brightly, even as I drink in the sight of her.

She looks so pretty today. Ruth-Ann’s wearing a brand new pink bodysuit with the Sunrise Cantina logo over one breast and covering her back.

Her smooth hair has been chopped to just below her chin, about two inches shorter than the last time I saw it.

It’s tucked behind her ears, making her face seem more heart-shaped than before. “You look cute. Very pink.”

She makes a face at me. “It’s not really my color but I got outvoted.”

“It goes with the theme. Your hair looks beautiful, too.” I carefully ease the cake down onto a bit of clear counter space. Here I’ve been worrying like mad over her, frantic that she hates me, and she looks great. Better than great. Fantastic.

Ruth-Ann tries to tuck her hair behind her ear but it’s already there. “First time I’ve had to cut it…um, in a while. It’s tidier at this length.”

“It’s pretty, but you always look pretty.”

She gets the cutest smile on her face and my heart flip-flops in my chest.

I am so gone on her.

It’s a terrifying—and exhilarating—realization.

After years of being enslaved and forced to have sex with a male alien, I thought I’d never feel like myself again.

That trauma had killed all the sexy parts of my personality and I’d go through the rest of my life happy to never be touched again.

I thought I’d never want to have sex again…

and now all I think about is Ruth-Ann and her lips.

Ruth-Ann and the graceful way she moves, her elegant fingers and her rusty giggle.

The way she’s so particular about everything in her world being just so .

I find myself dreaming about how she’d taste, if her thighs would clamp around my ears or if she’d just cradle my head gently between them. I imagine the noises she makes when she’s aroused, if they’re as reluctant as her laughter is.

I hate that we haven’t been talking. I miss her. Hell, I’d prefer she showed up at my cart again and verbally trashed all my food. At least then I’d know I was on her mind. I can’t stand her silence.

“Can we talk?” I ask carefully, lingering in the kitchen.

Everyone is busy, with Zaemen trying to ignore the two of us, and Ruth-Ann cutting buns in half.

I should probably wait for some other time to try and have a conversation, but now that I’m here and she’s smiled at me, I can’t leave.

So I pick up a bread knife and start cutting buns alongside her.

She’s silent but glancing at me warily. I’m going to take that as a good sign and continue.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings the other day,” I say. “About the birthday thing. I wasn’t trying to pry into your past, and you know I’d never try to trigger you deliberately. I didn’t realize it was off limits.”

She grimaces, cutting faster and not looking me in the eye. “I wasn’t triggered. It’s just…can we just say that it’s complicated and leave it at that? Where’s Pluto?”

“He’s with Ruthie, sitting at the bar like a good boy.” I’m so relieved that she doesn’t hate me. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, then we won’t talk about it. “He misses you and your cookies.”

That makes her smile.

“I miss you, too,” I blurt out. “And I want to keep being your friend.”

Okay, so I don’t exactly want to be her friend , but if that’s the way I get to spend time with her, then that’s how it’ll go.

Ruth-Ann gazes up at me, biting her lip, and it takes everything I have not to swoop in and kiss her. “I wish I could explain?—”

“Nothing to explain. It’s in the past.”

She sets down the knife and the bun in her hand, and the next thing I know, she’s hugging me.

I drop mine and wrap my arms around her, and she feels just as good as I expected she would.

I’m taller, but she’s the perfect size against me, her soft hair tickling the lower part of my face.

She smells like clean soap and happiness, and I want to drink her in.

I love you , I want to yell out loud. Please don’t shut me out again. I wasn’t lonely before because I didn’t know what I was missing. Now that I do, the thought of losing you is unbearable.

I say nothing, though.

A throat clears. Zaemen holds his spatula with an annoyed expression, the meat on the grill sizzling as he glares at us. “Can you ladies make out on your own time? The kitchen is getting more behind than we already were.”

We jerk apart. Ruth-Ann picks up her knife and starts cutting buns again, then shoots me a rueful look. “Zaemen might be the first male in the universe that’s ever told women not to make out.”

I snort with amusement and gesture at the buns. “After these are cut, what else can I help with?”

“Oh, it’s not necessary,” Ruth-Ann says. “You’re all dolled up and here to celebrate.”

So she noticed how I look today? I want to preen and toss my hair, but…food service and long hair don’t mix. With one hand, I tug my long ponytail into a knot atop my head so it stays out of the way. “Correction. I’m here to spend time with you, not to party.”

She glows at my words. “In that case, we’d love the help.”