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“I give my building managers my number in case there’s an apartment emergency. Not to get pictures of your baby balls.”
“Please don’t mention balls. Mine are still traumatized.”
Luna snorted a laugh, which drew Mia’s attention. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one. Ross.” She couldn’t tell her cousin-in-law she was flirting with her landlord—Wait.Wasshe flirting?
She scanned the conversation. There wasn’t anything particularly flirty, except for mentioning balls, but talking to Sam gave her the same light flutters she normally got while romantically sparring with a guy. Oh, boy. With full knowledge of Sam’s real story, she no longer had a reason for maintaining a flirt embargo. This could be trouble.
“Oh, can you ask Ross if he could pick up some buffalo chicken waffle wraps for dinner? I really need some,” Mia said while polishing off a taquito.
“Sure.” After messaging Ross, she returned to her conversation with Sam.
“You’re also growing cilantro. When you get a couple ripe tomatoes you almost have the ingredients needed to make yourself salsa.”
“Really?”
“I think you also need onion and a jalapeño or something.”
“Can I grow those in pots?”
“Peppers definitely, not sure about onions.”See, this was a nice, normal conversation about gardening. There wasn’t anything flirty here.
“I’ve never made salsa before. When my balls ripen, maybe you can come over and help me out.”
“I am really good at chopping.”She added a winking kissing face, a knife, and a smiling devil emoji. Okay, maybe the conversation wasn’t innocent after all.
“I’m not sure I like this analogy anymore.”
“In all seriousness…you help me with my faux fireplace and I’ll help you with salsa?”
“Deal.”
*
“You’ve got dripson the corner,” Sam said, as he stood beside her, inspecting the paint job. He’d become the perfectionist to hermeh, good enoughbut she didn’t let it ruin her good mood.
They were both on the patio, having taken different parts of the makeshift faux fireplace. Luna was painting the floating shelf with a mahogany stain and finish.
She bumped him away with her hip. “Didn’t the teacher ever tell you to keep your eyes on your own work? I’m still working on it. Besides, this might be a right-handed paintbrush. You didn’t exactly set me up for success here.” She laughed at the idea of there being right and left-handed paintbrushes, but she had to give some excuse.
“The problem is the paintbrush? Nice try. Maybe we need another painting lesson.”
“You have a real right-handed privilege vibe going on, do you know that?”
“So, you’ve noticed how superior I am.” His devilish grin was infuriating and hot as hell, which made sense since everyone knew all devils came from Hell.
“Spoken like a man who’s never struggled with a pair of scissors in his life. At least left-handed people are creative, probably because of all the work-arounds we do in a right-handed world.”
“Is left-handedness the reason you’re so stubborn?”
“It’s not stubbornness as much as it’s an independent desire to do what I want as opposed to doing what you want me to do. No, that amazing trait is due to being a Sagittarius. I’m a cornucopia of complexity, Sam.”
“A cornucopia of complexity?”
“It means you should bethankfulto have met me.”
He laughed, the expression more free than she’d ever heard it before. It was deep, came from his gut, and lit his brown eyes. She wanted more of it, and to be the person who caused it.
