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  “It’s o-”

  He leaned in to brush his lips on hers before she could finish her thought. He’d been watching her face all day, hyper-aware of the way her full lips moved around words, and the way her expressive chocolate eyes narrowed or widened with expression. He hadn’t thought about specifically kissing her all day, but he’d wanted to touch her. To grab her hand and slow down her almost frenetic pace to allow her to enjoy a moment.

  He got the sense she was always on the go, always moving and rarely taking a minute to simply be. Even now, with his lips on hers, she was moving her lips and it was with words, not to kiss him back.

  “No, Drew. We shouldn’t.”

  He let her go immediately, stepping back. “You work for me. I’m sorry, it was inappropriate.”

  “Yes, but that’s not why.” She explained more at his frown. “Because nothing can or should come of it.”

  “Olivia, it’s only a kiss.”

  “To you it’s only a kiss, and you hand them out as freely as candy on Halloween. But to me it’s a prelude.”

  “A kiss doesn’t have to lead to sex.”

  She flushed. “That’s not what I meant. To me a kiss is a prelude to more emotionally. If I touch lips with someone, I want it to mean something, and that the more we kiss, the more it will mean.”

  “And you don’t want anything meaningful with me.” For some reason, this made him feel like hitting something, which was pretty crazy since he didn’t want anything meaningful with her or with anyone.

  “I think that path leads to sure heartbreak.” She gave him a sad smile, which he returned with a naughty smile.

  “Or it could lead to a lot of fun. You know what your problem is?”

  “I wasn’t aware I had a problem,” she said dryly.

  “Your problem is that you take everything too seriously, and you’re too worried what your family will think.”

  “And you don’t worry about what your family thinks at all, nor do you take anything seriously,” she shot back.

  “Not true. I take business seriously, but this isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

  “Oh, please mansplain my life to me, oh great one,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  He hid a smile. “You’re busy making everyone else happy and trying not to rock the boat, you’re not being true to yourself or having any fun.”

  “That’s not true. I have fun. And I applied for the nursing job I wanted.”

  “By creating an elaborate web of deception using me and my mother as your beards.”

  “You really don’t understand,” she said. Before he could respond, she’d grabbed her purse and was halfway to the front door. “I’m off. Tell your mother I’ll be here Wednesday to drive her to dialysis.”

  She closed the door behind her, leaving him wanting to chase after her to continue their heated discussion. He couldn’t because he had to get to work. They had a new DJ playing tonight, and there’d been a lot of online buzz. He realized for the first time ever he wasn’t excited to go to work.

  Yeah, the DJ would be good, but he had zero anticipation about the women who would flirt with him and try to trade kisses. The only lips he wanted to touch had exited his apartment.

  Olivia was not going to lose her virginity tonight. Not because she wanted to be the last twenty-seven-year-old virgin in America, hell, maybe the world, but because if she did sleep with her date, the news would get back to her father. He’d handpicked her date tonight himself. And technically she wasn’t exactly a virgin. Everything but was technical, right?

  Her date was the son of her father’s accountant, and the family was from the right town in Colombia, and vetted by a distant cousin. They were going for Italian food in South Miami—a restaurant recommended by her father—then home by nine. The last was Olivia’s decree. She started her new job in the hospital tomorrow, not that anyone in her family knew.

  At six thirty on the dot, the doorbell rang and her mother answered the door, her father waiting in his chair reading El Herald.

  Olivia was in her room supposedly getting ready for the date, but she’d been ready for a while. It was quick to get ready when you weren’t putting much effort in. She was wearing a blouse from her friend Amy’s store, paired with dark skinny jeans and wedge espadrilles.

  As soon as she heard the doorbell ring and voices that indicated her date was in the house, she swiped on some dark burgundy lipstick and left her room to get the whole thing over with.

  Her father started to smile, then frowned when he saw what she was wearing. “Jeans, Livvy?” he said in Spanish. In his mind while pants were fine for a woman on some occasions, a date was an occasion for her to wear a skirt or dress.

  She didn’t answer and walked past him to intercept her date before he got interrogated by the whole familia. Then again, if he couldn’t take it, it was over before it began. Given that he was Colombian, too, his family was like hers, and if they got married like her father hoped, they’d be one massive gathering every Sunday and holiday.

  “Here she is,” her mother announced, in a voice that could be used to announce the Queen of England. “Santiago, this is my daughter, Olivia.”

  Her dad shuffled in from the living room, and oh lord, her brother, Gabriel, came in from the kitchen, a plate of food in one hand, a shoveling fork in the other. And his best friend, Javier, came like a shadow behind him, giving Olivia a scowl.

  All the men in her family, Javier included, eyed Santiago as if he were holding a bomb. Even her brother, the second biggest man-whore in Miami, second only to Drew, was here to judge as if he had any ground to stand on.

  She mentally rolled her eyes, then went to kiss her dad then mom. She gave her brother and Javier the stink eye and then forced a smile as she went to shake Santiago’s hand. To his credit, he remained calm as he shook her hand, then turned to her father, brother and Javier. They all spoke in Spanish, discussing the upcoming Marlin’s season, totally ignoring her, as if she were too female to understand or care about baseball.

  Machismo was alive and well in Colombian culture. Her mother pulled her to her side and murmured in her ear. “Muy guapo, no?”

  She looked at Santiago objectively. “Yes, he’s handsome.” Not as handsome as Drew, because they were opposites in coloring. Drew was a golden surf boy and Santiago had the dark Latin male thing going for him. Who would’ve thought she’d prefer the all-American look? Yet, looking at Santiago, she didn’t want to stare at him for hours and rub her lips across his shaven cheeks the way she did with Drew. His stolen kiss made her lips tingle every time she thought of it.

  She shook off thoughts of Drew and asked loudly, “Shall we get going?” All four men looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was present.

  Santiago smiled at her and held out an arm, which she took, and he escorted her out to his car. Her brother would have palpitations if he saw the 2010 BMW with its blackout windows and poor excuse for a paint job. Though perhaps he knew, because when she glanced back at the house, Javier’s outline could be clearly seen though the front window. He was standing, staring out at them, arms crossed over his wide chest.

  You could tell a lot about a person by their car and she’d already formed several opinions about her date from this one-second glimpse of his car. She knew the moment he turned the ignition her eardrums would be blasted with bass, which he wouldn’t lower, instead choosing to shout at her over the music.

  He opened the door for her, obviously waiting for her to compliment his ride, but she said nothing. She couldn’t lie. Her brother worked for the best custom car shop in Miami, possibly the country. Santiago had gone to a hack.

  And...ignition. She winced as the car filled with the predicted deafening music which had a rolling thunderous beat but no words she could recognize or understand. Wait, she understood that word. And that word. Wow, she’d never heard mama and tatas in quite that combo before.

  “Great song, right?” Santiago shouted to her.

  She g
ave a half smile and shrugged. She didn’t like the music, but if she asked him to turn it down, she’d have to talk to him, and she didn’t want to do that either. It took faster than normal to get to South Miami, because Santiago drove like most of the men she knew, too fast and with a far better opinion of his skills behind the wheel, than reality.

  Give him a chance, Livvy. Her mother’s warning sounded in her brain. She knew from family stories that her father had swaggered a lot also when courting her mother. Their families had pushed them together, and after a rocky beginning, they loved each other deeply. Since Olivia wanted what they had, she was willing to climb over a few rocks to get there.

  “Have you eaten here before?” she asked, gamely trying to make conversation. They’d pulled up to a parking spot just half a block down from their destination, and he smoothly reversed into the spot, only one hand on the wheel. She had to admire his parallel parking skills. It would’ve taken her at least two attempts to wedge her sedan into the same spot.

  “No. You?”

  She shook her head. “I hear it’s good. And I like Italian food. You?”

  “Yep.” They lapsed into silence once more, this time more noticeable and awkward without the accompaniment of music.

  “Olivia?”

  She looked around to see who was calling her name and was thrilled to see her friend Amy and her husband, Danny, pushing their little daughter Mia in her stroller. She hurried up to greet them, pulling Amy into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “Grabbing some yogurt,” Amy said. Danny held up a hot pink cup and toasted her with a spoon.

  She knelt to greet Mia and was rewarded with smiles and clapping. She clapped back, wanting to snatch the baby up and snuggle her. This was why she was willing to meet every man her parents thrust upon her. Because she wanted kids and a husband. She wanted what Amy had. Ironically, Amy hadn’t been looking for it, but it had fallen in her lap, and recognizing it as the gift it was, she held on tight.

  She rose and saw her friends and date all eyeing each other. “Oh, sorry. Amy, Danny, this is Santiago. Santiago, these are my friends. Amy owns one of the clothing stores over there.” She pointed in the general direction of Amy’s store.

  They all shook hands, and then Santiago put his hand on her lower back. “We have dinner reservations. Nice meeting you.” She allowed herself to be guided away from Amy and Danny with a quick wave and then they were in the restaurant.

  The date went okay from there, mainly because they found a topic of conversation that was able to sustain all of dinner. They didn’t order dessert. Santiago talked about himself and Olivia listened, occasionally asking questions, not because he was fascinating but because it kept her from having to think of another topic.

  She heard about Santiago’s job as an accountant, his boss who didn’t recognize his talents, the skiing trip he wanted to take next Christmas, his mother and his grandmother’s cooking, and finally the boat he was saving up for.

  “I know someone with a boat,” she volunteered.

  “Oh?” He actually looked slightly interested in something she had to say.

  “He’s my boss. Well, technically his mother is my boss,” she amended. “But I know he keeps a boat near downtown for fishing.” She was speaking of Drew, who was on her mind for the second time that night. She needed to stop comparing every man to him, but he’d been the only guy in a very long time to get her engines revved. She shook him out of her mind. He was so off limits to her it wasn’t even funny.

  Santiago made a face at the word fishing. “Too slow. I want speed.”

  “Don’t hurt the manatees,” she said, making a lame joke.

  “The what?”

  “The manatees. You know, those big grey dolphin things that float all over the intracoastal.”

  He made another face. “You a hippy?” He said it as if equating hippy to terrorist.

  “No, but there’s laws about going too fast if there’s manatees around, and since there are always manatees…”

  “I won’t hurt the manatees.” He laughed and gave her a look as if she were a big weirdo. He rose. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure.” She followed him back to the car, not making the suggestion they walk and window shop at the fun little shops along Sunset Drive, as she would’ve done if she’d wanted to prolong the date. Papi was going to be disappointed. Another date tried and rejected. They were starting to think it was her. Maybe it was. Or maybe she wanted a man who was interested in her.

  She kept her gaze out the window and her back nearly to Santiago on the ride home, which somehow seemed to take forever, despite his driving as if he were at the Daytona 500. When they neared her neighborhood, she perked up a bit, anticipating a shower and her bed, but he made a right turn where she expected a left and pulled off into the driveway of a house that had been foreclosed on and now sat abandoned.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, immediately reaching for her purse where she had a fine tip Bic. As a nurse, she knew several places on his body to hurt him.

  “I didn’t want to drop you off yet,” he said, turning off the motor and unbuckling his seatbelt. His intentions were in the smarmy smile he gave her, which made her stomach churn uncomfortably, full of the fettuccini from dinner. “I took you for a nice dinner,” he said and leaned in to kiss him. For a long moment she instinctively responded. Muscle memory from all her years of being Olivia the Giver kicked in, and when a male kissed her, she kissed back.

  But only for a second. She found her bearings and pushed back from Santiago. “Take me home now.”

  “Come on, Olivia. Stop acting like the Catholic school virgin. We’re both adults.”

  “Exactly. We’re adults, and I’m saying this date is over.”

  “I get it. You need another date before you let me get some?”

  Her airways felt suffocated as she gaped at him. His words brought back uncomfortable memories of her high school sluttiness. As a freshman, her brother had been a senior, and she’d been a good little Catholic schoolgirl, never stepping out of line. She’d rebelled her sophomore year, getting very friendly with the boys football team. And lacrosse team. She’d maintained her virginity, and like a lot of girls, felt that doing everything but kept her pure.

  By senior year, she’d understood that the boys saw her as a joke, and she was who they called if they wanted a blow job. She’d called it quits and went back to her clean school girl ways, never ever even going out with a group of her girlfriends if boys were rumored to be present. It took a long time however, before the boys of her high school got that she was no longer Olivia the Giver.

  “I’m not ever going to give you some,” she said. Her seatbelt stayed on, and her hand found the pen in her purse.

  “Come on,” he said, leering at her and leaning over to grab her breast.

  She slapped his wrist, but he laughed it off and grabbed her wrist, trying to place her hand on his crotch. Unfortunately for him, her hand was balled into a fist.

  “Ow, you bitch.” He was back in his own seat, bent over slightly in pain. She felt not an ounce of remorse.

  “Drive me home now, or I’ll show you what I can do with a pen.” She held it up like she’d hold a dagger, and raised her eyebrows. Then suddenly, the door behind him opened and he was dragged out of the car by an unseen force.

  The thwack of a fist pounding into a face reverberated into the car.

  Terrified, Olivia got out of the car ready to run for her life, then call 911 when at a safe distance. She threw open the door and got a foot away from the car, glancing back to see what was happening. She froze in her tracks. “Javi?”

  The beat down on Santiago paused for a moment. “Back up, Olivia. I’m teaching this guy some manners.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked around the front of the car. “Stop, you lunatic.” She reached them and physically pulled Javi off Santiago by his fist.

  “Go home,” she advised her date. “Or I’ll let him go.”


  “You two are loca,” he muttered, holding a hand to his about-to-be-bruised face. But he started the car and tore out of the driveway, making the tires squeal in protest. She and Javi watched in silence as he peeled off.

  “Well, that went well,” she said. “Think he’ll ask me out again?”

  A hint of a smile shadowed Javier’s face. “Get in the car,” he said.

  She didn’t listen. “Were you following me?”

  “No,” he said, but his answer came a fraction of a beat too late.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve killed him. Why were you following me tonight?”

  It was dark in the empty lot, but she didn’t need a flashlight to know he was scowling. He nearly always scowled. “Get in my car, Olivia.”

  “Not a chance. It’s only a block to my house. I’m walking.” She took off in the direction of her home, knowing he’d follow her. Sure enough, he abandoned his car to trail her a few feet behind.

  Halfway home, she turned. “I’m an adult, Javier. You’re my brother’s friend, and mine, but that’s it. If you keep interfering in my life, you’re going to lose my friendship also.” He didn’t respond, so she turned and kept walking.

  “You once wanted me,” he said, a challenge in his voice.

  She stopped again. “I was seventeen and very lost and confused. It didn’t mean anything.” By that point, she’d made it to her front door and stepped up. “Good night, Javi. Thanks for looking out for me, but don’t do it again.” She entered her house, leaving him alone on her driveway.

  Her brother took one look at her as she walked in the house at eight fifty-nine—at least one thing about the date had gone well. Two, if you counted seeing Amy and Danny.

  “Who do I need to kill, and how painful do I need to make it?” Gabriel growled.

  She smiled and patted his chest. “Pour some coolant on it, hothead. I took care of it. And Javier helped.”