Chapter 5
KNOX
La Reina del Taco is packed, but we manage to score a booth at the back of the bustling restaurant.
It’s one of my favorite places to eat in the city because the family who owns it is as warm and welcoming as the food.
And the food? Unmatched. I inhale deeply, savoring the familiar scent of seared meat, roasting chiles, and the spicy blend of garlic and cumin that already has my stomach rumbling.
“This place is a vibe,” Ava says, craning her neck to take in the colorful artwork that covers the walls. “If the food is half as good as the atmosphere, I can see why you chose it.”
“La Reina del Taco has the best authentic Mexican cuisine in the area.” I grin. “Everything is made fresh on-site, including the tortillas.”
She picks up her menu and flips it open, her eyes going wide at the endless options. “What do you recommend?”
“The tacos al pastor is my go-to dish, but there’s really not a bad choice to be made.” I push my menu to the end of the table. No point looking when I always get the same thing. “The margaritas are also fantastic. I recommend the prickly pear.”
Ava lays her menu on top of mine. “Sold.”
The server approaches, and we place our orders.
When she disappears into the kitchen, Ava levels her gaze at me. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Tell me the least interesting thing about yourself.”
“The least interesting?”
She shrugs. “It’s way less pressure than thinking up the most interesting thing.”
Fair enough. “My middle name is Bernard.”
She bursts out laughing and clamps a hand over her mouth, trying to smother her giggles. It’s fucking adorable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just…you don’t seem like a Bernard.”
“Tell me about it. When most people hear the name, they picture a curmudgeonly octogenarian.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “And, for what it’s worth, you never have to apologize for being honest.”
Hell, it’s refreshing. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date with a woman who felt comfortable enough to be herself. Too often the women in my life are trying to be something they’re not in hopes of securing WAG status.
“Enough about me, though.” The server appears, and I quietly thank her as she places our drinks on the table, along with chips and salsa. “What about you?”
“I’m an open book.” Ava grins, wrapping her fingers around the stem of her glass. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” I want to know her favorite color, her proudest moment, her worst fears. I want to know what makes her tick and how to make her happy. I want it all…but maybe we should start with the basics. “What brought you to Atlanta?”
“I came here for work, but you probably guessed as much.” She takes a sip of her margarita and then licks the sugar from her full bottom lip. “I’m a mental health consultant here on a nine-month contract. Hopefully, if it goes well, I can turn it into a permanent position.”
Nine-months?
It’s a lot better than one night.
True. I can work with it. “So you’re beautiful and intelligent.”
A slow flush creeps over her cheeks, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know about that.”
“Take the compliment, Ava.” I reach across the table and settle my hand over hers. “I admire smart women, especially ones who use their gifts to help others.”
“Well, thank you, but it’s really not a big deal.”
The hell it’s not. “I lost my parents at a young age. Counseling saved my life. Don’t ever minimize what you do or the impact you make on the people whose lives you touch.”
Her expression softens, but thankfully, she doesn’t offer meaningless platitudes. “I’m glad you were able to get the help you needed.”
“Me too.” If it weren’t for Coach’s encouragement, I might not have gone through with it. “I just wish there wasn’t such a stigma around mental health conditions so more people are comfortable getting the help they need.”
I grab a chip from the basket, dip it in salsa, and pop it into my mouth. Ava follows suit, albeit more carefully.
“What about you?” she asks, grabbing another chip. “You haven’t told me what you do.”
That’s because I’ve been avoiding the topic.
When Sam mentioned the game earlier, I realized I wasn’t ready to tell Ava I’m a hockey player.
Not because I think it would change her view of me, but because I’m enjoying getting to know her as Knox the next-door neighbor and not Knox the NHL star. Is that so wrong?
Before I can speak, she throws up a hand. “Wait. I think I can guess.”
I stiffen, racking my brain. Did I leave my gear in the truck? It’s possible, but I don’t think so.
A self-satisfied smile curves her pretty lips.
“You fixed my front door in the blink of an eye, and you have a truck full of tools,” she says, gaze sliding to the left as if she’s trying to remember something.
“You mentioned a worksite when you were talking to Sam earlier, and you’ve got the kind of muscles that can only be achieved through physical labor or a gym rat’s discipline. ”
I smirk. “You’ve been thinking about my body?”
“Don’t change the subject.” She falls silent, pursing her lips as she considers me. “Oh, and you work with your hands.”
I hold up my calloused palm. “Guilty as charged.”
“All signs point to construction.” Her smile returns. “Are you a contractor?”
“Something like that.” I search for the right words, but before I can elaborate, Marisol, the queen in La Reina del Taco, approaches the table with several plates stacked on her arm.
Like Sam, we go way back. She works harder than anyone I know, and it’s been a joy to see how much the restaurant has grown over the years.
“?Hola! ?Cómo has estado?” She places the steaming plates on the table, and the scent of seasoned pork and grilled onions fills the air.
My stomach growls. “Muy bien, gracias. ?Y tú?”
“Todo bien.” She wipes her hands on her apron and turns to Ava, her grin widening. “Ella is muy bonita. ?Es tu novia?”
My eyes meet Ava’s across the table, and I switch back to English. “She is very pretty. This is our first date, and if I’m lucky, she’ll let me take her out again.”
Ava’s cheeks redden, and Marisol rests a hand on her shoulder. “He’s a good one. Nice manners, and always smiling. Give him a chance. You won’t regret it.”
“We’ll see.” Ava nudges my foot playfully before turning back to Marisol. “The food looks wonderful.”
“Gracias.” Her attention swings from Ava to me. “Enjoy your dinner. And don’t be a stranger,” she adds, jabbing a finger in my direction before she turns and bustles back to the kitchen.
Ava leans forward, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Are you taking me to all the places you have celebrity status just to impress me?”
“Maybe.” I flash her a shameless grin. “Is it working?”
An hour later, I walk Ava to her door, but I’m not ready for the night to end. She’s excellent company, and I had a great time on our date. Hell, I can’t think of a single way this evening could’ve been better.
“Do you—” Ava catches her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me from under her lashes, the soft white glow of the porch light reflected in her eyes. “Do you want to come up?”
I stand corrected. This night can absolutely get better.
What happened to taking it slow?
That was before she invited me over. Besides, coming inside does not equate to sex. Maybe, like me, she’s just not ready to call it a night. It’s still early.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
She unlocks the door and I follow her up the stairs, a sense of déjà vu settling over me as I step into the living room.
Ava flips the light switch and turns slowly, as if trying to determine her next move. “I didn’t really think this through.” She laughs. “Some host I am. I can’t even offer you a drink.”
“I didn’t come up for a drink.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Then what did you come up for?”
It would sound like a line coming from anyone else, but Ava’s not like that.
She’s sweet, and when we first met, she was inexperienced as well.
We haven’t spent enough time together for me to know if that’s still the case, but it wouldn’t surprise me.
Despite her efforts to appear audacious and carefree, I saw her.
I saw the thoughtful woman with the gentle heart.
The one looking for an opportunity to cut loose.
“I came over to spend time with you.” I cup her cheek, relishing the feel of her skin beneath my calloused fingers. “I don’t care if we watch a movie, or talk, or sit in silence and stare at the wall, as long as I get to do it with you.”
Ava darts forward and snakes a hand around the back of my neck, lowering my mouth to hers. Our lips crash together and fuck yes, how many times have I fantasized about this moment over the last five years?
Her lips are soft and wet, and when they part, I deepen the kiss, my tongue gliding along hers. She tastes like peppermint and tequila, and I can’t get enough. I hook an arm around her waist and pull her close, stopping only when her body is flush with mine.
I tangle my fingers in her hair, wrapping the silken strands around my fist and angling her head to the side for better access. Throat exposed, she moans quietly.
It only stokes my desire.
I’m down bad, and I don’t care who knows it. I nip at her lower lip, tugging it gently between my teeth. Then I pepper kisses along her jawline and down the tender flesh of her neck and shoulder. I want to taste every inch of her gorgeous body.
She scrapes her nails down the back of my scalp, delivering that intense dichotomy of pain and pleasure. My cock swells in response, and I exhale, breath hissing between my teeth.
Ava jerks back.
The loss of contact sucks the air right out of the room.
“Sorry.” She offers me a wobbly smile, not quite meeting my eye. “I should’ve asked for consent. That was a little aggressive.”