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Mom fidgets with her gold cross necklace. “Do you need to go now? It’s going to get dark soon.”
“It’s five p.m.,” I grunt as I attempt to slide on my sneaker and fail. Julian, in the ultimate fake display of gentlemanly behavior, gets down on one knee to help me.
Momaws while Josefina has the biggest set of heart eyes. Neither of them can see the way he obnoxiously smirks at me.
Julian has been pulling these stunts since we were teens, with both of our moms doting on him like a prince carrying a glass slipper.
The only princely thing about him is that he is a royal pain in my ass.
He carefully helps me into my sneaker before tying the laces. The slightest graze of his fingers over my ankle sends goose bumps scattering across my skin, earning a deep frown from me.
“Thanks.” The word comes out rushed as he rises to his feet.
I ignore my racing pulse and turn toward Josefina. “Do you mind dropping me off at the library on your way home?”
She frowns. “I would love to, but I have to drive out to the Smiths’ farm to check on a few things for the festival.”
“No worries.”
Her whole face lights up. “But Julian can drive you into town instead.”
“Thanks, but I think I’d rather walk. It’ll be nice to get some fresh air after spending the day inside.” I pull Josefina in for a one-armed hug.
Josefina waves me away. “Nonsense. The library is on Julian’s way home.”
“Hell is already a long enough drive as it is. No need to add another stop along the way.”
Julian chuffs while my mom’s eyes narrow.
“Dahlia,” she chides in that hair-raising voice of hers.
“I’m trying to be polite.”
“I’m not sure you know the meaning of the word,” Juliangrumbles under his breath for only me to hear.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.” I lay it on thick, going as far as batting my lashes.
He frowns.
“Julian doesn’t mind doing me that little favor. Right,mijo?” Josefina reaches out to give his bicep a squeeze.
“Anything for you, Ma.” Julian kisses the top of his mother’s head and my mom’s cheek before looking over at me. “I’ll be in the truck.”
Mom waits until Julian shuts the door to speak. “Will you two ever get along?”
“Rosa,” Josefina warns.
“What? I thought they would grow out of this…”
“Animosity?” I throw it out there.
“Immaturity,” my mom finishes.
Ouch. “We can be mature.”
Both her and Josefina’s eyebrows rise.
“When we want to be,” I tack on.
