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Well, shit. “That’s beside the point.”
“That’s exactly the point.” Delia’s tone softened. “You were held at gunpoint in a bank robbery, Camila. It’s not a small deal.”
Camila sighed but didn’t argue. Delia knew the fear of having her life threatened, and anyway, she was right. “I know,” Camila said. “And I’m not saying it was nothing. But Iamsaying I don’t need to be treated with kid gloves just because it happened to me. My boss keeps asking if I’m sure I should be back at work. My parents are trying to turn my apartment into a fortress. My siblings made a rotating schedule for who gets to come “take care” of me, and despite the fact that I’ve asked at least ten times, Matteo won’t tell me even the tiniest detail about the case for fear of upsetting me.” Irritation flared, pushing her words out faster. “How ironic that the only person who said I had even an ounce of bravery is the frosty-cold FBI agent who, up until we were held at gunpoint together, didn’t even reallylikeme.”
Delia’s eyes widened for a split second before Camila realized she’d said too much. “When did you talk to Roman about this?”
Camila resisted the urge to clam up entirely, knowing it would only snag Delia’s curiosity further. While she’d told Delia about the robbery itself, she’d kept her lunch with Roman—and the kiss that had gone with it—to herself. Time to come clean before Delia’s curiosity grew legs.
“The day of the robbery. I saw him in the lobby at the precinct when we were done giving our statements.”
“What a coincidence,” Delia said, poorly concealing her smile behind her glass.
“You don’t believe in coincidences,” Camila reminded her, hoping like hell she’d take the bait.
Delia tilted her head. “The laws of probability dictate that coincidences certainly exist. In that way, they can actually be explained by science. But, to your point, I don’t believe in the cosmic sense of coincidences. Most of them are so boring—say, for example, two red cars parked next to each other on the street—that we dismiss them out of hand without even realizing them. You and Roman ending up at the same place at the exact same time after that robbery, however?Notboring. Also, not a coincidence, hence my sarcasm. Also-also?” She lifted a platinum brow at Camila. “Excellent attempt at subterfuge, but no chance am I letting this one go. A broody, moody FBI agent calls my BFF brave? Details on this conversation between the two of you, please.”
“Ugh, fine,” Camila grumbled, knowing she’d been bested. “We were both leaving the precinct at the same time after giving our statements. Obviously, we know each other.” As embarrassing as it had been, Camila had told Delia about what had happened—or, more to the point,hadn’thappened—that night after she’d flirted with Roman a year ago. “Tess had told me I needed to eat, and frankly, I needed a drink, too. Roman took pity on me and we ended up at a taco place by the precinct.”
“Ah. Definitely not a coincidence, either,” Delia said, not unkindly.
“No,” Camila said. “But also not a date. We shared a meal. A couple of well-deserved margaritas. That’s pretty much it.”
Delia’s brows lifted in question. “And how did you get to the bravery bit, exactly?”
Camila was starting to regret having opened her big mouth. “We were talking about reactions to fear. Roman said it had been brave to insist that Rosalie needed help even though I was scared. But really, I think he was just trying to humor me after the shit day we’d had, so…you know, no big deal.”
“No big deal,” Delia repeated. But Camila had no game face to speak of—she wore every single one of her emotions on her sleeve, good, bad, or ugly—and she promptly caved.
“Well, maybe notnobig deal. We, um, did have a good conversation and sort of cleared the air over what happened last year.”
“Did you?” Delia’s eyes sparkled with interest, and while Camila wanted to respect the privacy of his former marital status, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to dodge the rest.
“Yep. We also…might have…kissed a little when he dropped me off. But—”
Delia held up one hand, stopping Camila mid-babble. “Stop. Rewind. You and Roman kissed?”
“Yeah?”
“And this happened six days ago.”
“Yes, but—”
Delia arched a brow, effectively silencing her. “And you’re just telling me now.”
“You waited longer to tell me you’d hooked up with my brother,” Camila pointed out, although she knew it was a flimsy argument. “Anyway, there’s not a ton to tell.”
“You and Romankissed,” Delia cried, her smile expanding.
But nope. Camila had to squelch this right here, right now. “We did, and it was”—hot. So hot. The kind of hot you only see in movies, hottttt—“a very good kiss. But I haven’t spoken to him since then. Honestly, I think we just got caught up in the moment.”
“Okay, youwereboth held at gunpoint in a bank robbery,” Delia mused. “I could see where adrenaline might play a factor. Still. Roman doesn’t exactly seem like an impulsive guy. How did you two end things?”
“He made sure I got up to my apartment safely, we said our goodbyes, and that was pretty much it,” Camila said. Thankfully, their server arrived with their orders, placing two plates loaded with fruit-smothered French toast in front of them and leaving Camila highly grateful for the distraction. Delia drizzled syrup over her breakfast, passing the small pitcher to Camila and popping a piece of turkey bacon into her mouth beforenotletting Camila off the hook.
“Roman is pretty hot. Objectively, of course. He’s very smart. Plus, the planes of his cheekbones have great symmetry.”
Camila’s laugh took the tension in her shoulders down a notch. God, she was over-thinking this. “Next thing you know, you’ll be mapping the parabola of his perfect ass.”
