Page 37 of Army
After several hours of dying, perming, highlighting, and cutting hair, Mia welcomed the thirty-minute lull in her day. Staying busy made the day fly, and by the time she sank into the chair and lifted a much-needed café latte to her lips, she was feeling considerably better than she had earlier. Talking with Vic—to her, he’d never be Shark—usually made her nostalgic and sad. Most of the time, she focused on the moment and let go of the past, but there were times when the darkness would seep in and distort her present-day reality.
Mia couldn’t believe she’d accepted a date with Army.What was I thinking?Her mind tried to think up excuses to get out of the evening, but a part of her—the one she was ignoring—couldn’t wait to see him again. She couldn’t deny that the night before she’d sneaked way too many glances at him in his gym shorts that were slung low on his narrow hips. How could she not notice the hard muscles that rippled across his chest or the dusting of dark hair that trailed down past a taut, corrugated stomach? Mia closed her eyes and the vision of Army’s incredible tattoos danced in her mind.They’re amazing.The curling, flowing designs covering his arms and a good part of his chest had tempted her to touch.
Her eyes flew open.I didn’t give him my address.Dread spun around her.Maybe he was just talking out of his ass last night. What should I do?As if on cue, her phone vibrated against the black lucite countertop. She didn’t recognize the number and crossed her fingers it wouldn’t be Noe. She glanced at the text and smiled.
Army:What’s ur address?
Mia:How’d u get my number?
Army:Taylor.
Mia:1479 S. Larkspur Lane.
Army:Be there at 7.
Mia:K.
That was it. No smartass remarks, no macho shit, just clean and direct. Maybe dinner wouldn’t be that bad after all. Picking up a hairstyling magazine, she browsed through it as she waited for her next appointment.
* * *
Mia stood infront of her closet debating on what to wear for her date with Army. She held up a plum skirt with lace.Too sexy.After spending twenty minutes vetoing different outfits, she finally settled on blue jeans and a burgundy hollowed-out cold shoulder blouse with a block neckline. She slipped on a pair of black stiletto short boots, then grabbed her leather jacket and went downstairs.
At exactly seven o’clock the doorbell rang. Mia set down the cats’ food bowls and went to the door and looked out the peephole. As Army stood there, looking down at his phone, she opened the door.
“You’re prompt. Come in for a sec. I have to finish up something in the kitchen.” Pumpkin rushed up to Army and rubbed against him, meowing. “I’m warning you—she’s an incorrigible flirt.”
“Is her owner?” His gaze traveled over her body, then he smiled at her.
“Not so much. Have a seat.” She walked into the kitchen, rinsed the cans of food, threw them into the recycle bin, and then wiped down the counter.
“You’ve got a nice place. Do you live here alone?”
After drying her hands, she slipped on her jacket. “Yes. I debated about getting a roommate, but after working out the finances, I decided that I’d rather be more frugal and live alone than have one. I’ve lived with roommates or family my whole life. I love being alone.”
“Do you have an alarm?”
She laughed. “I’ve never had anyone ask methatquestion before.” Mia picked up her purse from the stool at the breakfast bar. “I do have an alarm, and I try to remember to put it on.”
“You need to do it all the time even though you live in a nice area.”
“Noted. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” He lifted Pumpkin off his lap, where she’d sprawled shamelessly, and stood up. “I thought I saw another cat roaming around here.”
“That’d be Snickers. She’s the shy one, so she’s probably hiding behind something. Do you like cats?” Mia punched the code into the alarm panel.
“They’re cute. I had one when I was a kid. My mom loved them.” He stood aside on the porch and let her go first.
“What was her name?”
“Harley, and it was a tomcat.” Army opened the car door and she slid inside.
They pulled in front of El Señor Sol. The large smiling sun was the trademark of the restaurant, and it was one of Mia’s favorites.
“Good choice. I love this place,” she said, patting her hand on top of his. When his gaze blazed with heat, she realized her faux pas and quickly pulled her hand back to unfasten the seat belt.
Seascape paintings decorated brightly-painted walls in turquoise, orange, yellow, and lime green, and multicolored wood chairs surrounded tabletops imprinted with a smiling sun. The place wasn’t very big, but it was a mélange of color, scents, and salsa beats.
