Chapter 3 #2
Titus did not disappear. He took one slow step closer. The silence between them stretched. The wool lady watched from her chair, but Kyla did not care.
“Save me one for later, Chef.”
His voice dropped low. Heat flooded from her chest. She went still and pretended to tuck napkins beside the tamales. The cotton between her thighs clung to her skin.
She crossed her ankles. When she glanced up, Titus stood there with a satisfied look. He picked up his sack and tipped his chin. His thumb brushed her wrist again, barely there. She tried to outlast his stare, but she finally looked away first.
By the time she looked back, he had gone halfway down the aisle. He left her raw. Her mouth set hard around a want that had only sharpened.
She tucked the last foil wrap into place. Customers drifted closer. Their questions and their change belonged to routine. She worked from habit and nothing more.
Kyla bent over her display and tried to slow her heart. Desire kept moving through her blood. Every motion she made carried an echo of his touch. She forced herself back into motion and wrapped two tamales for a pair of women.
Kyla packed change and used her market voice. She said thank you and asked if they wanted to pay with cash or card. Her reflection flashed back from a cooler lid. She saw a damp hairline and smeared lipstick.
The boxes grew lighter with every sale. The honey twins came by for their free sample and whispered about the cowboy. Kyla winked at them and kept her tone bright, but her pulse dragged behind the rest of her.
She kept moving. Customers came in waves. She answered every question with efficiency, her voice steady even when her hands threatened to betray her. Her phone buzzed against her hip, but she ignored it at first.
By the time she reached for the cooler again, only a handful of tamales remained. The phone buzzed again. She dragged it out and saw Marisol’s name. A photo loaded.
It was Titus. He had his tongue against his thumb, with sauce bright against his skin. He looked straight into the camera.
The caption read: GET IT, CHEF!!!! A second photo followed, zoomed in close. Kyla felt hot all over. Mortification came first, then something hungry moved beneath it.
She sent back a string of symbols and bit her lower lip. A grin broke loose anyway. The ground beneath her boots felt less steady than before.
She laid the phone facedown and flattened her palm over the place at her side where his thumb had slipped beneath her shirt. The memory of that touch kept looping through her head.
“Two pork, one veggie.”
She snapped back into motion. Her fingers brushed a customer’s hand, but she barely registered it. Everything inside her stayed fixed on the memory.
The last tamales went faster than she expected. One went to a ranch hand and two more to a couple. The final one went to a woman in silver hoops.
“Are you staying for the square dance tonight?” the woman asked.
Kyla handed over the bag. “We shall see.”
And just like that, the cooler sat empty. Kyla stilled for a second. One hundred tamales were gone. She let out a breath and reached for her cash envelope. She saw more bills than she had expected for a first run.
It should have felt like a success. Instead, the hollow hunger stayed beneath her ribs. She started packing. Foil was folded and trays were stacked. Around her, the market began its slow collapse. Canopies came down and folding chairs scraped across gravel.
She moved on muscle memory. Across the lot, Titus stood beside a flatbed. He talked with one of the older hands. When he shifted, his gaze caught hers. A crooked smile followed.
Her body answered. She felt a pulse under her jaw and heat in her belly. He knew what he was doing. She dropped her eyes to the cooler and hated him for knowing. She hated herself more for wanting it.
Nothing stood between them now but distance, and that distance did not help.
She folded the table and squared her shoulders. When she looked up again, he was still watching. This time, she did not look away. She held his gaze and gave a small shake of her head.
She lifted the cooler and carried it toward the pickup. Her pulse beat steady up the side of her neck. The sun pressed across her shoulders.
Her phone buzzed again. She set the cooler into the backseat and pulled the phone free.
It was another photo. This one was closer. Titus looked straight into the lens.
Marisol’s caption shouted:
SOMEBODY CALL THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT.
Kyla let out a sound between a laugh and a groan. She stared longer than she meant to. He looked certain of himself. She sent back a response and shoved the phone into her pocket.
Every step toward the truck pulled denim tight. She shifted her weight, but nothing helped. She looked back one last time. Titus leaned against the flatbed. His attention slid sideways and found her. That same slow smile returned.
She turned away with an unwilling smile. The market finished breaking down. Tables collapsed and engines turned over. She climbed into the truck and shut the door.
Her eyes closed. She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with sun-warmed air. She felt starved.
Her phone buzzed again. She left it alone. She would take the ache home with her.
And if he showed up again tonight, she wasn’t sure she’d tell him no.