Page 61 of Unspoken Promises

“They’re mostly investments.” I put the burritos on a tray and slide them in the oven.

“Really? Are any of these from famous artists?”

“Not that kind of investment.”

She shakes her head. “Will you ever not speak in riddles?”

She’s so damn cute with those freckled shoulders and hands in her back pockets, pushing out her breasts. And I could just crawl up those legs for days…

“Well, what kind of investments do you make, Zo?”

She uses my nickname to make me rise. And boy do I rise.

“Come with me.”

She follows me through the house and downstairs to the movie theater.

“Wow. This is so cool.”

“It’s what I do when I can’t sleep. Mostly Mexican movies or things in Spanish. Growing up, we watched movies in Spanish almost exclusively at home. My parents were hell-bent on us all being bilingual, so it was a thing. Now those movies remind me of my mom.”

“Your dad told me she was a formidable woman.”

“She was a force, for sure. My sister is a lot like her…” I type in the code on a lock pad on my storage room door.

“Oooh. You’re showing me a locked chamber?” she asks.

I open the door and switch on the light.

She gasps. “No waaaay…” She steps inside and makes a slow circle, taking in a bunch of paintings. “Funky Pussy? Are…” She stares at the hundreds of paintings, not knowing they’re meticulously organized by artists and year.

“All of these are Arthur’s?”

Her tank top strap falls off her shoulder. How I’d love to slide my finger up under the other and let the rest fall.

“Not all of them. I have three artists I support in Mexico, too.”

She walks along the row of paintings, marveling at whatshe sees. “Penelope was saying they all went in one go to a mystery buyer… that’s you?”

I shrug.

“My, my… Enzo Mendez is an angel investor.” Her flirty eyelashes flutter. “You’re really sweet behind that scowl, aren’t you?”

Heat creeps up my neck despite the temperature. I keep it cool in here for the sake of the art, and her nipples pebble in the crisp air. She wouldn’t think I was sweet if she knew how her bare shoulder is making me want to rip down the neckline of that flimsy cotton and suck on that tight bud and her perky breast right now.

“You bought all of these to support starving artists?”

I run my fingertip along the top of one of the bigger canvases. “You can take anything you want from here and hang it next door. Just don’t tell anyone how you got it.”

She picks up one of Arthur’s squids. “Phallasea? Pen told me about this series at Town Hall.” She appreciates his brushstrokes. “He’s pretty talented, you have to admit.”

“He is.” I scratch my head. “But it’s a niche market.”

She laughs, and I love that sound coming from her mouth because of me.

“Can I really have one?”

I step closer to her, smelling that cedarwood cologne of hers. “Have as many as you like.” I examine the one she’s looking at now. It’s a red dick-shaped squid on a green background. “Arthur was classically trained, you know.”

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