It starts to rain a little—soft patter on the roof as we check out—so I unlock the truck and tell her to get on in and that I’ll take care of getting the bags loaded.
I’m trying to be a gentleman. I’m trying to be a friend. She looks beautiful tonight—she dressed up and I don’t want her to ruin her outfit or her hair with the rain. I know how women are about that and I want her to feel confident and beautiful, especially at dinner.
“Thanks for loading those.” She says as I climb into the driver’s seat, rain dripping from my hat brim, shirt clinging wet to my chest.
“You’re soaked.” She rubs her hand down my arm, slowly, caressing, fingers warm and soft against the damp fabric. And there’s a pause between us, I know she feels it too. The air thickens, charged, her touch sending heat straight to my groin. She wants me just as bad as I want her but we’re friends. I need to be strong. Hold my own. Think with my head not with my dick or my heart.
I shake it off. “I’ll be alright. You hungry?”
“Starving!”
La Luna Roja, my favorite Mexican spot. The neon sign flickering red in the rain, parking lot slick and shining under streetlights. As soon as we walk in, all eyes are on Layla. It’s kind of like a bar and restaurant mash-up—jukebox pumping mariachi beats, pool tables clicking in the back, tequila bottles lining the shelves behind the bar. But she stole everyone’s attention. That red dress, her dark features. She’s beautiful and curvy. Very desirable. Watching her eat and take in the night is awesome. She’s happy, laughing, talking, dipping chips into the queso with little moans of delight that hit me low in the gut. The cheese is hot and melty, spicy kick from jalapeños, her lips shiny from the salt.
“So, what do you want in life?”
She covers her mouth and lets out a chuckle. “That’s pretty deep and random.” She giggles.
I smile, chuckle back. “You were talking about your best friend and her kids, about how you miss them. Do you want kids of your own? To get married?”
She smiles. “Yes, I want all of that. Kids, a husband. All of that. Maybe three kids.”
That’s exactly what I want.
“What about you, Cole?”
“Yeah, we’re not getting any younger. I probably should start working on that part of my life.” I laugh.
She’s had a few too many margaritas—tart lime and tequila on her breath, cheeks flushed pink—and I’m over the waiter flirting with her, leaning too close with that sleazy grin. So I help her back to the truck—arm around her waist, her body soft and warm against mine, heels clicking unsteady on the wet pavement.
When we get to the truck she moans when our bodies are against each other, low, needy sound that shoots straight to my dick. And it sends a shiver through me. That I’m trying so hard not to pay attention to. But that moan makes my dick jump. She turns around, the rain pouring down on us, her back against the truck door. I can take her right here, having her dig her nails into my back. But no, we're friends.
“I’ve had so much fun with you tonight. Thank you.” She kisses me, lips soft, tequila-sweet, pressing insistent.
I don’t kiss her back. Her eyes are on me and I smile, reaching beside her, opening the truck door.
“Let’s get you home.”
She giggles, that tipsy giggle, light and free.
She sings and talks all the way back to the ranch, the radio turned low, her voice off-key but adorable, rain pattering on the windshield. I love this side of her. This fun, carefree side. I’mglad that I could be the one to make her happy tonight. We pull up and she drops down fast.
“Go on in, it’s raining. I’ll get your grocery bags.” I tell her, so she jogs down the sidewalk to the guest house, dress clinging wet, heels splashing puddles.
I grab all the bags—both hands full, plastic handles digging into my palms, rain soaking me through.
“Just sit them on the kitchen table,” she says, taking her heels off, feet small and pretty, toes painted red to match the dress.
“Thank you for such a fun night.” She says as she walks up to me, eyes glassy from margaritas, lips parted.
I have got to get out of here before I do something really stupid like fuck her right here and now on this kitchen counter like I did a few weeks ago. The memory hits hard, her legs wrapped around me, moans echoing off the walls, nails in my back.
“I had fun too. I’ll see you in the morning for the class.” I say as I’m walking toward the door.
“Oh okay. I’ll see you in the morning I guess.” She says, almost disappointed.
But my dick is throbbing, thinking of her in that dress, hair soaked, the way her feet looked so cute in those heels. I don’t have a foot fetish but damn, I could for hers. And If I stay here I will fuck her. I ran fast up to the main house and out of the rain.
“How did it go?” Maggie says as I pass her going up the steps, walking as fast as I can to my room. I don’t answer, just breeze by.
