Page 3 of Single Mom's Secret Diary
A good wine will do the trick, too, but there’s none of that to be had here. All the more to disappoint my dad.
Sophia’s been smiling and flirting with every cute guy around. It’s gotten us more than our fair share of freebies, and I’m feeling pretty happy. Pretty free.
A tall, shirtless blond slides a hand around her waist as she laughs, and I prop myself on a stool. I’ve had a few attempts, but I’ve brushed them off. I will not be falling on a grenade to get my cousin laid. She does not need my help.
My margarita is strawberry this time, sweet and salty and strong. I sip it meaningfully when some guy settles beside me. “You don’t dance?”
I turn to take in the soft, natural tan of the man beside me. His arms are nice and muscled, but he’s wearing a shirt to hide the rest of him. That makes me squint at him. Everyone else is more than eager to show some skin. Sophia even convinced me to bare more than I normally do.
Granted, I’m showing off my legs and flat stomach since I don’t have a lot on top. Not many have offered me beads to flash them. And it’s not like I would, anyway.
“I’m afraid I don’t dance. Not like that.”
He turns, nursing a sweaty beer bottle that I assume is not his first but one he’s had for a long time. “Like what?”
I laugh lightly. “Like an animal in heat.”
His wide smile tugs at me, and I twist on my stool. His brows jump. “That is an apt description.”
I laugh harder, mostly because he uses the wordapt. And those dark brown eyes darken further as he watches my mouth.
He leans in closer without invading my space too directly. “You have a beautiful laugh.”
“Is that your line?”
“No. It’s the truth.”
I purse my mouth at him, noting the differences again between him and the other drunken fools that crowd Cancún. “What are your plans for Spring Break…?”
I let myself trail off to see if he’ll give me his name instead of simply asking for it.
“Ezra.” He offers me his hand, which is cool from the beer but not cold. His palm is rough and his fingers strong as they close around mine. “Do I get your name?”
I let my head fall to the side as I think about it. “Avery. If only to keep you from giving me some nickname.”
This time, he laughs. Its baritone is louder than I imagined without being grating. “What ones have you earned so far? Vixen? Angel? Wait, let me guess. Temptress?”
Sipping my margarita again, I find that I don’t pay as much attention to the separate ingredients and enjoy the mixture. He’s distracting enough to dim the wild obsession I can’t seem to turn off. “Angel. Yes. Goddess, too.”
“Mmm. I can see that one.”
I shake my head. “Not helping your case.”
“And what case would that be?” He leans against the bar, facing me.
“The one that will convince me to sleep with you. Or at the very least, consent to a make-out session.” My blunt words don’t seem to faze him.
“And who says that’s what I’m trying to do?”
I gesture at the writhing crowd again, all of them in some pre-mating ritual.
“Fair point.” He bends closer, by my ear. Ezra’s breath is hot against my skin, making me suppress a shiver. “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer a bit of conversational foreplay than I do the mindless grinding that seems to be the norm.”
I tip my head to look at him better when he doesn’t retreat all the way. “So you do want to sleep with me.”
Ezra laughs. “That’s still to be determined.”
Something about this guy makes me comfortable, but more than that, the way he carries on a conversation melts my insides. It has me reaching out to touch his arm, and slowly, our hands link together.
