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“I should make Ben watch one.” Charlie tugged on Mack’s wrist. “Let’s go over here. I love this booth.”
Tables with bamboo jewelry, glass bongs, and artwork filled the space around them. Mack glanced at Charlie, who eyed a beautiful, jade-colored stone. The back of Charlie’s hand brushed hers and Mack’s insides heated. The hum of the crowd faded into the background, and Mack tapered her focus on Charlie. Everything about her was exquisite. The red lips. The hair that was so plush and full that Mack wanted to ask her if she could wrap it around her fingers but didn’t want to come off like a total freak. That rose-and-vine chest tattoo…
Mack peeled her eyes away from the tattoos and brought them to Charlie’s bubblegum lips. Jesus, she was hot. But the attraction was so much more. Her heart was as big as her hair. The way she froze and held her breath when a kid tripped in front of them. The way she made eye contact and chatted with the person behind the counter. The way she moved.Damn, the way she moved.
Charlie bit her lip with a shy, slow smile and interlaced her fingers through Mack’s. Mack silently absorbed her through her skin.
Other couples walked by, pointed out things, laughed, and held hands. Were they feeling the same tingles as she was? Did they feel a surging rush up their arm? Was this what it was like to feel… whatever this was?
It was official—from here on out, Mack never wanted anyone else to touch her hand. No other hand could feel like this. Warm and inviting, and comforting.
So seamlessly. So naturally.
And so effing deceptively.
This ended tonight. From here on out, Mack wouldn’t write anymore using Charlie’s background without her consent.
TWENTY
CHARLIE’S DRINK SPECIAL: TRUTH SERUM CUCUMBER SPRITZER
Well, she held Mack’s hand.Just like that.Just like today was an average Saturday, with an average couple doing average things. But her heart knew differently and hammered against her chest. Charlie peeked from her peripherals at Mack to gauge her reaction. Mack grinned and swiped her thumb across her knuckle, and Charlie’s shoulders loosened.
The market always held a soft spot in Charlie’s heart. As kids, she and Ben would pool their money and pop down here to split clam chowder or Beecher’s Mac & Cheese. Or, on random Saturday afternoons, she and Rosie would take the Metro to eat pork-filled humbows and watch cruise ships sail by.
Charlie’s stomach roared like a gorilla. “Oh no. I made it angry.” She pointed at her belly. “I’m so hungry. You ready for Puerto Rican cuisine?”
“Absolutely.” Mack followed her to the exit, her grip firm and delicious against Charlie’s palm. “Back home, Spanish Harlem has this tiny family-owned restaurant with the best mofongo in the world. But it’s a solid subway ride to get there, so I only go once or twice a year.”
“Ooh, mofongo’s good, too.” Charlie jutted her chin toward the street past Post Alley. “Nueve’s up a few blocks and to the left. Parking sucks, so we have to hike it, okay?”
“Unfair advantage. You live in hiking boots. I’m wearing my flat Converse.”
“Maybe we can steal an electric scooter from a kid. I’ll drag on the back shotgun style.”
Mack laughed. “Deal.”
Midway up the hill, Mack stopped as her breath labored. “I need to rethink my stance on giving up running.”
Charlie rested a hand on Mack’s back. “You good?”
“Nope. Pretty sure this is a perfect, lung-crushing, forty-five-degree angle, designed by Seattle architects to punish tourists who are used to practical, flattened land. Like those offered by the New York City Department of Tourism.” Mack tugged Charlie closer. “But you’re the most beautiful, skilled hiking partner anyone could ask for.”
“You’re making me blush. Pretty sure it’s because you think I’m a skilled hiker, though. Let’s do Rainier sometime and revisit this conversation.”
When they reached Nueve’s, Charlie pulled open the heavy wooden door and a swoosh of hearty, buttery, roasted-pork-and-garlic air drenched her. Asuperfriendly hostess who may or may not have had one too many chocolate-covered coffee beans asked them to follow her to the table.
“Charlie!” The bartender, Remi, waved at her with a wide grin as she filled up a line of cocktail glasses with mojitos.
“Hey, Remi.” She smiled and kept following the hostess.
“That’s Ben’s roommate?” Mack glanced behind her shoulder. “She looks vaguely familiar, actually.”
“You’ve probably seen her in the shop. She pops in every few days. She even helped me set up a Sunday Drag Queen Reading Hour for kids a few months back.”
“Here you ladies go.” The hostess motioned to the booth. “By the way, I’m dying for what you’re wearing right now.”
Charlie held out the side of her dress and curtsied. “Thank you.”
