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Dahlia’s golden rings glint in the moonlight as she wipes at her cheeks with a frown. “I had something in my eye.”
“Both of them?” I widen my stance as I cross my arms.
She dabs at the corners of her eyes with her two middle fingers. “A decent person wouldn’t call me out on that lie.”
“Since when are we decent to one another?”
Pinche estúpido:Fucking idiot.
“It’s never too late to start.”
Because of our slight height difference, she is forced to tilt her head back to get a good look at me. Her walnut-colored eyes remind me of long-ago late nights spent in the woodshop, meticulously obsessing over staining my latest carpentry project.
Whatever resolve I had quickly crumbles when shesniffles.
“Allergies.” Her defensive tone, paired with her twitching nose, makes my chest constrict in an act of ultimate betrayal.
What the hell is going on here, and how do I get it to stop?
I keep my facial expression neutral despite the rapid thumping of my heart against my rib cage. She doesn’t last long under my scrutiny before slumping against the door with a sigh.
I’m struck with a compulsion to say something, but words fail me.
My ringtone shatters the moment. “Shit!”
Her brows shoot toward her hairline. “What’s wrong?”
You. Always you.
Blaring sirens drown out my response. Every muscle in my body goes rigid as a rush of vehicles makes its way around the bend in a single-file line. A fire truck and ambulance lead the safety brigade, followed by the sheriff, his deputies, and the Lake Wisteria trolley.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Dahlia curses up to the stars. “Dios, dame paciencia con mi mamá.”
Dios, dame paciencia con mi mamá:God, give me patience with my mom.
My gaze cuts into her. “That’s who you were talking to?”
“Unfortunately.”
Leave it to Lake Wisteria to turn a fender bender into a community crisis.
It’s not the cars they’re concerned about. It’sher.
Dahlia is more than my childhood rival. She’s Lake Wisteria’s Strawberry Sweetheart who is finally returning home after years spent away living out her California dream.
And you’re thecabrónwho nearly drove her into a ditch.
I rub at my throbbing temple.
“Do you think we can escape before they get here?” Dahlia’s gaze flicks from me to my car.
“This is all your fault.” The words slip out.
A few minutes in Dahlia’s presence already have me slipping back into the bad habit of speaking without thinking.
Add it to the long list of reasons you should avoid her.
