Chapter 10
Cienna
“Why is there a kid menu available at a raging tequila bar?” I scanned the options, then giggled, pointing at the bottom of the menu.
Reed let out a huffy chuckle with a shake of his head. He smirked, a flirtatious curl across his lips. “Did something catch your eye?” Anyone watching could guess what I was hungry for.
You. With a side of mac ’n’ cheese.
He noted my hesitation and possible longing as I stared at the words, making my tummy rumble.
“Are you as tired of Mexican food as I am?” He casually stretched his arms above his head and then rested an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer as if it was forbidden to speak of anything but enchiladas and flautas.
He whispered in my ear, “I know, when in Rome and so on, but I could use some good old…” He used his finger to scan down the menu, down, down, all the way to the bottom.
Say mac ’n’ cheese. Say mac ’n’ cheese.
“Chicken nuggets? I haven’t had those in years, and I’m feeling adventurous.”
I giggled.
“How about you?”
I shrugged, even though I was a giddy child inside.
“Maybe mac ’n’ cheese?” Those words tickling my ear were just as seductive as any other sweet nothing he uttered today.
“It’s my second favorite kid food.” I rubbed my hands together, getting excited at the prospect of family restaurant cheesy-pasta goodness.
“Hmm…” He pulled back, making eye contact. “What’s the first?”
“Trix.” It was hard to hold in my grin.
“The cereal?” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin.
“I didn’t realize that qualified as kid food.
I have some in my cabinet at home. I actually seek those little boxes out at continental breakfasts and occasionally grab an extra one and sneak it up to my room for midnight munchies. ”
“No way.” I bumped my shoulder against his. “Such a rule breaker.”
He threw his arms up, playing innocent. “They literally say ‘Trix are for Kids.’ You break the rules every time you eat them.”
Our laughs mingled until the waitress approached.
Reed sat up and put on a serious face. “We will start with a three-shot tequila taster," he said as he pointed to the option on the menu.
The waitress jotted the order on her pad, then looked back up.
“Then we will share an order of mac ’n’ cheese and chicken nuggets.” Reed cleared his throat, probably holding down the same laugh I was.
She flinched, then smirked. “?Menú infantil, sir?”
He nodded, then tapped his chin. “Unless you have those in adult portions?”
The waitress jutted out her hip and chewed her pen, “No, pero I can arrange.”
Reed nodded formally. “That would be appreciated. Gracias.”
An awkward silence passed as she made note of our order. “Would you like the applesauce and juice boxes included with the kid’s meals?”
Reed glanced at me, a mischievous glimmer shining in his eyes despite his earnest expression. He turned back to the waitress, handing her our menu before unfolding his napkin. “Eso sería increíble.”
She nodded at her pad, then left to put our order in.
I dropped my head into my hands, stifling a laugh. He squinted at me, his serious face still intact. “What?” He bit his lip, losing his grip on his composure.
“I can’t believe you can keep a straight face while ordering mac ’n’ cheese and chicken nuggets.” I placed my hand on his arm. Hi, biceps. “Plus applesauce and juice boxes… which I’m actually looking forward to.”
His mouth finally curved into a delicious smile. He grabbed my hand from his arm and kissed my knuckles, never losing eye contact. “Anything for my baby.”
My glare was playful, but my burning cheeks betrayed me.
“Don’t like that nickname?” He lifted a brow, setting my hand on his knee.
Absolute glee surged through my chest, but I dipped my head, attempting and failing to hide it.
“It’s okay,” he said, squeezing my hand. “It’s still negotiable.”
I finally burst out a laugh, and he chuckled with me.
At that moment, Reed’s phone vibrated under my hand. He stretched his leg forward, releasing my hand, and pulled it from his pocket, checking the screen. “I’m sorry, I should take this. It’s my assistant. It’ll just be one second.”
I expected him to walk away for privacy, but he stayed seated.
“Hey, Sylvie.” He paused before adding, “No, no, please don’t worry about it. I worked it out.” He turned to me. “A lovely woman helped me out, and I got exactly what I needed.”
My face heated, and I twisted my hands in my lap, once again wishing my hair was down to fiddle with. The waitress approached and set down a wooden tray with three shot glasses.
Hmm, that might help with the nerves.
Reed’s brows shot up and waggled at the appearance of the tequila.
He listened to the opposite end of his phone call, and I took the moment to watch his parted lips, his throat bob as he swallowed, and the way his copper curls flared behind his ears and down his tan neck.
His shoulder muscles engaged as he leaned forward and grabbed a shot glass, sniffing it like a tequila connoisseur.
When he finally ended the call, he turned to me, taking my hand back in his. Goose bumps crawled up my arm. His constant touch was going to be my undoing.
The chair squeaked when he turned and faced me completely. He plucked at my arm, so I faced him as well. Grabbing the seat of my chair, he pulled me so close that my knees sat between his.
“Let’s play a game.” He smirked.
I flopped my head back. “No, not another game. I suck at these bar games.”
He rested his hands at my hips and leaned in. “I think you’ll be fine.”
I skeptically agreed, and he described the simple rules he had in mind.
“We ask each other questions, and if you end up with one you don’t want to answer, you take a shot.
” He pointed out the tequila in the center of our round table.
In perfect timing, our waitress showed up with a tray full of goodies fit for a childhood sleepover and placed our food on the table.
“Here we go”—he scooted the basket of nuggets toward us—“up the ante. When we answer a question, we get a nugget.”
I pinched my brow. “What if I’m starving?”
Reed rubbed his hands together with a devious grin. “Then you’ll just have to answer.” He shrugged. “You ask first.”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “This is your game. You go first.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “What made you decide to become a teacher?”
Not what I was expecting, but okay.
Needing to ground myself for this topic, I slid my hand to my lap.
His lips tilted down and his brow furrowed.
I didn’t mean to pull away. “My grandma. She taught for years and founded the school I teach at. I grew up there.” I paused and looked up at Reed, leaning into me, so attentive. “She passed a few years ago.”
He didn’t grab my hands and pull them back to him, but he did pat them.
I swallowed down the lump building in my chest and nodded. “She actually raised me. The only motherly figure I really knew.”
He patted my hand again, and this time, I grabbed it and held on to it.
The feel of him, his body squished next to mine as he scooted closer, melted the tension and replaced it with bursts of warmth that traveled down to my toes.
I rested my chin on his shoulder and murmured, “How about you? What made you decide to be a photographer?”
“Capturing. Moments are so fleeting. I click to hold on to them, to freeze them, and even to find new things I didn’t know were there.”
“That’s a really beautiful way to look at it.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, then leaned his head on his hand and braced his elbow on the table.
“My mom gave me an old digital camera when I was, like, seven years old. Just to mess around with.” His eyes lit up, and he continued, “I was hooked instantly. I spent all my time after school, every ounce of my summer break, and the entirety of our family vacations taking pictures. When I got older, my family traveled a lot, and there was even more to shoot.” He dragged his hand over his mouth. “It was my escape.”
I plucked two nuggets from the basket and handed him one. Grinning, I held mine out to him. “Cheers?”
He tapped his nugget with mine and chuckled, “Cheers.” Then he leaned in, speaking close.
“If I wasn’t enjoying being in this moment, I’d stop to capture it.
Hold on to it.” His eyes were soft and genuine, no hint of coyness.
With a groan, he sat up a little. “Okay, next question.” His lips rolled in thought before he asked, “How in the world are you single?”
“Pssh.” I pushed at his shoulder.
“It’s not a line, I swear.” He held his hands up with his declaration before I got a chance to accuse him.
The rest of the bar came into focus as I broke our stare. I’d never thought of this before. It never mattered. Well, other than Darcy and Kennedy worrying about my penis-free existence.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just not out there, I guess.”
He grabbed a chicken nugget and held it out to me, but when I reached for it, he pulled it back. “I don’t think that counts as an answer.” He tipped his head to the shots on the table.
I glared. “Just because I don’t know doesn’t mean I refused to answer it.”
“Fine.” He pouted but handed me the nugget, and I bit into it with a smile.
As I pondered my next question, I poked my straw into my juice box.
I didn’t need to know why he was single.
He was always traveling, and the attention he got everywhere he went left him with plenty of prospects.
And just like that, jealousy bloomed in my gut.
I took a sip, scrunching my nose at Reed as he watched me in anticipation while taking a noisy slurp of his own juice.
“What is your body count?”
Reed nearly spat out his juice. “My what?”
“You know, how many people you’ve… you know.” I thought about sacrificing a question just to take a shot and ease my embarrassment.
“I feel like if you can’t actually say the words, you probably don’t really want to know that badly?” He smirked.