Page 24 of Feel It in the Air

“Hey now, my team came in top ten!” Gus defends. “And we were a finalist for most original. Lost to whoever Bluey is.”

“A very beloved cartoon character,” I tell him.

He quirks an eyebrow up at me, surprised by my knowledge.

“Three-year-old nephew. The Finnegans are big Bluey fans.”

He nods, taking a long sip of his beer, eyes meeting mine. He holds my gaze, as if he’s committing the information to memory, sending a tingle through me.

I let the feeling settle in me, along with the knowledge that his brushing me off with the excuse of already having a commitment last night was the truth. That it wasn’t a line to put distance between us. I smile, and for a split second consider telling him that he should have let me know what his plans were, that I would have picked up tacos for the both of us and brought them to the derby to support him and his team. But I stop myself. Because maybe that’s more than what he wants.

More than what friends would do. At least at this stage of friendship.

But then he winks at me, and fuck if I don’t forget my own name.

“Oh, there’s the Farlows. We should go say hi.” Marisela pops off her stool, then stops. “Oh, wait…”

“Go,” Gus tells her, stepping into me, putting his arm around the back of my barstool. The heat from his body wraps around me in an instant, my insides responding like a homing beacon. “I’ll keep her company.”

I don’t bother to hide my smile as they leave, knowing they won’t see it. Hell, even if they do, I don’t care. I’m too excited that Gus is standing so close. And for alone time with him.

Not wasting a second, he swings around and slides into the empty stool, dragging his hand down my side, leaving a trail of heat from his touch. I suck in a deep breath, treasuring the feel of it and committing it to memory, knowing that it’s probably all I’m going to get for a very long time. If not ever.

“Seems like we’ve been here before.”

“Does feel a little familiar.”

“Maybe I should have asked if this seat was taken.”

“Depends.”

“On?”

I smirk, my heart soaring. Everything about this feels good. Natural. Same as it did that day in JFK.

“Do you plan on selling me something, askin’ about my relationship with the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, or mansplainin’ anything to me in any way?”

Gus bites back a laugh, but his face quickly morphs into that same mock serious glare he gave me in the airport bar.

“No addendum about hitting on you?”

No, because that would be welcome…

“Not today.”

“Well then…” He smirks. “No ma’am, I still don’t have anything to sell, I still trust that your relationship with the Lord is what you want it to be, and I still know better than to mansplain. You’ve met my sister.”

I throw my head back, letting loose a laugh that I couldn’t control if I tried. Not that I want to. Because holy shit, does this feel good. Too good. Maybe the best I’ve ever felt.

“I have. And she’s as fascinatingly entertaining and devious as you described.”

“You don’t know the half it.”

I beam, hoping he knows just how much I want to know the half of it. The whole of it, actually. How much I want to be a part of all of this. Even if it is just in friendship form.

“Speaking of said sister, she threatened to introduce me to everyone tonight.” I press my lips together, hoping that I can silently convey just how unsure I am about what exactly that means.

“Were those her exact words? Everyone?”