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“Huh.” I crouched, offering the girl a pecan. Did kids her age eat pecans? I wasn’t sure, but she took it anyway, pocketing it.
“I never asked what her name was,” I said as an afterthought.
“Her name is Luna.” Camila’s voice cut above my head. She brushed the girl’s soft, brown curls. The kid was enchanting. A mixture of everything beautiful in the human species crammed into one person. Mocha skin on blue eyes. It reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t remember who. Maybe a baby Adriana Lima.
“I’m Edie.” I offered Luna my hand. She didn’t take it. I wasn’t embarrassed or annoyed by her rejection.
“Fine.” I withdrew my hand. “I don’t need your germs all over me, anyway.”
Luna swallowed down a snort.
“In fact, don’t get anywhere near me, okay? You look like a nose-picker.”
I loved children. Not in the way most girls my age liked them. I liked the hardened and the disorderly. The ones who struggled to communicate their feelings and felt trapped inside their bodies. Maybe because I saw so much of me in them.
I walked over to the other side of the kitchenette, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of Coke. Luna followed me with her eyes, a taunting smirk on her full lips. I arched an eyebrow and cracked the can open.
“I bet they don’t allow you to drink pop, huh?”
She shook her head. There was something hesitant about her movements. Like she wasn’t entirely sure how to do them—or if she should be doing them at all.
“If I give you some, would you tell on me?”
“No, no, no, no,” Camila interrupted, rushing toward us, her palms waving. “Her dad would kill both of us. Lord, no.”
I said nothing, because ‘no’ meant ‘maybe’ in Camila’s world. It was a matter of how hard you pushed for something. Luna looked between us, trying to pick on the nuance of our relationship.
“I need to go to the bathroom for a second. Can you watch her?” Camila smoothed her long skirt and blazer.
I nodded. “’Course.”
“No soda.” She wiggled a finger from the door.
I nodded again. She knew better than to believe me, but still felt her duty to point the same threatening finger at Luna. “I mean it, Luna. Your dad will not be happy.”
Needless to say, as soon as she left, Luna’s lips united with her very first can of Diet Coke. I held the can in my hand as I allowed her a small sip, squatting down to catch her every reaction when the fizz hit her taste buds.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
Luna nodded solemnly in agreement. I took a long pull, staring into the little hole.
“Yup, so good. Wait till you taste beer,” I snorted.
“No need, since that will never happen,” a steel voice came from the entrance of the kitchenette and I twisted my head, my jaw slacking in horror.
Shit.
Trent Rexroth walked in, looking fifty shades of pissed off and wearing one of the most sinfully sexy suits I’d seen on a human being. I wasn’t even big on suits, mainly because Jordan liked them and I hated everything he loved by association, but the way the silky black fabric hugged Trent’s ripped, tall frame made me wonder what he’d look like in a wetsuit. Or out of one. Either way, he’d leave Bane and the other guys at Tobago Beach eating his dust. I wasn’t sure what he did to maintain this kind of body, but it wasn’t sitting on his ass from nine-to-five, writing angry emails and scowling at me and everyone else.
I drew the can away from Luna’s lips, straightening up.
“Is she…” My gaze wandered around, looking for a distraction or a sharp object to defend myself with, should he decide to kill me.
“My daughter,” he cut into my words. “She is. Where the hell is Camila?” He sounded like the beast from Beauty and the Beast. Low, gruff, and commanding. But I refused to shrink into a corner and let him intimidate me.
“What kind of four-year-old has never tasted Coke?” I accused, throwing my arms in the air.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I put a hand on Luna’s shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t shake it off. She didn’t. “Seriously, what is wrong with you? She shouldn’t have it every day, or even every week—agreed. But not, like, ever? Why? Soda is awesome. It’s sweet and it fizzles in your mouth and it makes you feel happy. Right, Luna?” I nudged her.
She nodded vehemently, and now it was Trent’s turn to stare at me, bewildered. He took a step forward, his eyes moving from me to his daughter.
Silence. And awkwardness. And what the hell was happening?
“What? What!” I lost my cool, looking between them.
“Do it again,” he said, to both of us, I think.
“Do what?” I rubbed the back of my neck, still trying to read the situation.
