Holy moly! That was… life changing.
I blink, because it seems to be the only thing I can do right now, and my mind scrambles to catch up. I kissed Ares de la Peña. In the street. My fingers drift to my swollen lips, and I pray that my “kiss proof” lipstick isn’t smeared across my face.
I probably look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. I’m torn between not caring and caring way too much.
I preferred it when he was an untouchable playboy to me. Now he’s human. And he’s staring at me like that was just the appetizer.
My phone rings in my backpack, and we both stare at it. Most people under the age of thirty-five don’t use their ringer, but Dad worries. It’s a little thing I do so I don’t miss his calls, something that brings him a little peace of mind.
Oops. We’re still staring. Is my brain this foggy because Ares is standing so close to me? Or is it possible for someone to literally kiss the intelligence out of you?
I’m starting to wonder.
My phone doesn’t stop ringing. Its shrill noise cuts through the night air. I bet if I hadn’t been kissed until my body burned, I’d be pretty cold right now. Maybe that’s why I can’t feel my toes, and it actually had nothing to do with Ares.
“Answer your phone,tesoro.” His voice is gravely, like he just woke up, and it sends a ripple of desire through me. I want to grab his belt and tug him to me. I want to kiss him all over again.
I rummage in my bag without breaking eye contact, but I can’t find my stupid cell, so I tear my eyes away from Ares and hope he’s still standing there when I find it.
Dad’s name and picture light up the screen, and my insides deflate. I need to go. I need to call Dad. I need to go back to my Cinderella life after having the kiss of a lifetime with as close to a real life—albeit playboy—prince I’m ever going to get.
“I better take this.”
He looks down at the phone in my hand, nods, and takes a step back. “A po’ ’ta bien.”
He watches me, silent, as I pull my keys from my bag and start to walk to my car. What else can I do? Awkwardly wait for Dad to finish checking in so we can, what? Talk about whatever that heck was?
“Wait.”
I stop dead in my tracks and risk a glance behind me over my shoulder. Yup. Still there. Still Ares de la Peña.
“Can I get your number?”
Ares has glitter on his lips. I did that. It’s from my hot chocolate. I kissed glitter onto Ares de la Peña’s mouth. My heart spasms again.
Dad’s first call ended, and he’s calling back. It’s only a matter of time before he gives up and calls the police—wouldn’t be the first time. I don’t have long to let my mind yell that it’s a bad idea to make myself more accessible to this man.
I pick up the call from Dad, tuck the phone between my chin and shoulder and say hi, and type out my number onto Ares’s screen. When he pockets his phone, he picks up my hand and plants the sexiest, swooniest, most panty-melting kiss on the back of my hand before ushering me toward my car.
How does he know which car is mine?
That’s a thought for another time because Dad isn’t thrilled at being kept waiting.
I listen to the scolding for not answering right away for a second before starting the car and pulling away from the curb. Dad’s talking, but I’m not really sure what he’s saying. My fingers sweep back and forth across my lips.
“Eloise? Eloise?”
I blink and glance down at my phone, the line is still active.
“Yeah, Daddy?”
“Don’t ‘yeah, Daddy?’ me. You’re not paying attention. To me or the road.”
My spine stiffens, and I glance in the rearview. It’s dark, so I can’t tell who is behind me, but I’d bet my socks it’s Dad.
“You’re following me?”
I turn onto I-380 and check my speed. This stretch of road is notorious for speeding tickets, and right now I don’t want to give Dad anything else to complain about.
