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Librada smiled, turned around, and disappeared out the front door without having to struggle to get the thing to budge.
“I thought you were going to be here a little earlier. Greta made that weird dip you like.” Blanca, a woman a solid foot shorter than Sam, said before pulling her into a hug.
Lifelong friends who dated briefly in college, she and Blanca quickly realized they were platonic soulmates rather than romantic ones. Since then, they’d seen each other through loss, divorce, success, and joy.
“You’re the only person who thinks spinach dip is weird,” Sam replied like she always did.
“It’s a vegetable. Vegetables aren’t dips. There’s no lettuce dip, is there?” Blanca’s bright green eyes shone against her freckled, round face. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Maybe they should try drowning lettuce in cheese and serving it on Hawaiian rolls,” Greta, Blanca’s wife — a tall, bottle blonde with short hair and an uncanny resemblance to Sam — said when she appeared behind Blanca.
“Hey, sweets.” Sam greeted Greta with a kiss on the cheek.
“Come get something to eat before the reading,” Greta said, a perennial warm smile on her lips. If there were two people who complemented each other more than steady Greta and energetic Blanca, Sam had never met them.
The sound of the bell on the door forced Sam’s attention away before she accepted. The sight of Natalia walking into the bookstore welded her to the spot. In high-waisted trousers, silk top, and hair ironed dead straight, Natalia looked like she’d just left a board meeting where she fired the lot for incompetence and made a room full of finance bros cry.
Sam’s pulse raced, the memory of Natalia’s mouth on her, setting her on fire from the inside. Her body remembered her touch and ached for more.
“Who’s that?” Blanca whispered, but Sam couldn’t look away from Natalia. Not when she’d cut through the small crowd and locked her in her sights.
“Jesus, she’s hot. Is she famous? A Real Housewife?” Greta guessed.
“I’ll be right back.” Sam gave Blanca’s arm a squeeze and floated toward Natalia.
Each step she took toward her made Sam’s body sing. Made her heart pound in her ears and her skin flush with heat. Natalia stopped next to a round table covered in YA romances. Her dark gaze was as piercing and intense as the woman herself.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Sam said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. Natalia was the last person she expected to see in Blanca’s store — or ever again, really. “This isn’t exactly gala territory.”
Natalia tilted her head. She watched her for the longest second ever recorded, eyes set and studying. “If this is all it takes to surprise you, Professor, I worry about the depths of your imagination.”
Sam smiled, a chuckle rumbling in her throat while she slipped her hand into the pocket of her trousers. As much as she wondered what Natalia was like when she dropped the icy act, she loved that every conversation between them moved like a competitive dance.
“How else was I going to get your autograph?” Natalia’s eyebrow gave the tiniest flick.
Moistening her lips, Sam let her teeth drag over her bottom lip, memories of their last time together buzzing inside of her like a neon sign. “You could’ve just texted me,” she suggested before holding out her hand to accept the book.
“Texting? How forward,” Natalia shot back like they hadn’t seen and touched and tasted every inch of each other.
“What was I thinking?” Sam joked before taking Natalia’s copy of the Lilith myth. Her well-worn and neatly annotated copy, Sam noticed when she flipped through the pages. “Is this a sly way of sneaking a contract in here for me to sign?”
“I think you already know, Professor, when I do something… you feel it.”
Sam chuckled, heat flushing her face and throat. “And thank God for that.”
“Plus…” Natalia smirked. “You look litigious.”
“Damn, the truth comes out!” Sam scribbled a note in the book before handing it back. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here just to harass me about the rights.”
“Do you feel harassed, Professor?” Natalia locked her in her gaze. A gaze that seemed to want to shove her against something hard and kiss her again.
“Only in the very best way,” she promised.
Blanca showed up at her side with a camera and a smile too wide to spell anything but trouble. “Natalia Flores,” she announced, eyes fixed on Natalia.
Behind the counter, Greta looked remorseful. Like she didn’t realize her wife would use the information she dug up. “My kids had the best time at gay prom last year. That’s such a cool thing United in PRIDE does for them.”
Natalia tipped her head forward in acknowledgement.
