Page 35 of Sangre
“There wasn’t any. I was so pissed and not in the mood, I told him to leave. He stormed out and has been giving me the ‘talk only about music’ treatment right now.”
Silence again.
“I’m not all that into him, really. We broke up about eight months ago then got back together, and it’s not working. At least I don’t think it is. He wanted to stay with me at the house when he first came to Alina, but I wanted my space and told him so. He stays away when he gets mad at me, which has been for most of the time he’s been here.”
“He’s a fuckin’ jerk. You deserve better. You wanna go out for a drink?”
“That’d be wonderful. I could use one. Recording can be pretty long and grueling, so I definitely need to get out. Should I meet you?”
“I’ll come by and pick you up. Can you be ready in a half hour?”
“Yes.”
“See you then.”
Happiness and excitement zigzagged through Isla as she put the phone down. She rushed upstairs and changed into a black, off-the-shoulder crop top that laced up and a pair of distressed jeans. Parts of her butterfly tattoo peeked out from under the front lacing of her top. The crystals from her navel piercing shimmered under the recessed lights in her bedroom. She fluffed her hair with her fingers and freshened up her makeup: brushed on another coat of black mascara, added a bit more rose-tinted blush, and applied a light mauve lipstick. Grabbing a slim wallet, she slid it into her small clutch bag along with her lipstick and gloss and left the room.
As Isla came down the stairs, her front doorbell rang. She looked out the peephole, her belly twisting when she saw Sangre standing on the porch. After disengaging the alarm, she flung open the door.
The light from the street cast a glow over Sangre, making the highlights in his hair a deeper copper. Dressed in a gray T-shirt that fit his body like a second skin, snug black jeans, killer black boots with silver buckles, and his black leather vest with patches on it, he exuded alpha masculinity and pure sex.Damn, I’m drooling… but any woman would if he was standing on their porch. Close your mouth now and stop acting like you’re back in high school.
“Hey,” she said a bit too cheerfully as she opened the screen door.
She heard his sharp intake of breath as his gaze slowly traveled over her body, examining every inch of it. Her skin tingled as if he were touching her.
“You look hot. I mean good,” he said hoarsely.
“I likehotbetter.” Their eyes locked as they stood staring at each other while the crickets serenaded them from the trees. Isla could feel his body heat and smell the night air on his skin. Her body hummed, and it took every ounce of control to not throw herself into his sculpted arms. Then her damn phone rang, breaking the intensity of the moment. Cursing under her breath, she looked down at the screen and grimaced when she sawBenzflashing across it.
Sangre nodded at her phone. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“No.” Regret wove through her as she saw him start down the steps. “I’m going to set the alarm. I’ll catch up with you.” She went back inside, activated the alarm, and then closed the door behind her. As she approached Sangre’s car, she saw him talking to Keith. She leaned against Sangre’s car and tilted her head back, loving the way the cool breeze felt against her skin.
“You ready?” his deep voice startled her.
Straightening out, she threw a smile at him and placed her hand on the passenger door. “Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t bring your Harley.”
“It’s supposed to rain later tonight.”
She settled on the seat. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“Have you forgotten the weather around here? It changes all the time. It can be sunny one minute then a hailstorm the next.”
“I’d forgotten about that. I’d say riding on a Harley in a rainstorm isn’t very fun.”
“Nope, and it can be dangerous as fuck.”
“Which bar are we going to?”
“Cuervos. Steel, our prez, is part owner. It’s a decent place. If you’re hungry, they have some kickass wings and great nachos.”
“I may try the nachos. I have to admit I’m obsessed with them, but I rarely eat them because I’m always on a diet.”
He looked at her sideways. “You’re fuckin’ kidding, right?”
“No. You have to look a certain way, especially in LA. Anyway, I was always a chubby kid.”
“No, you weren’t. Your dad kept telling you that, and I kept counteracting it. I’m telling you now that you don’t have to be worrying yourself over dieting. A man likes to grab something when he’s with a woman anyway.”
