"But you want more, right?" Hannah asked. "I mean, you've been attracted to Brent since day one."
A quick jolt of panic shot through Elena, because that was a fact she'd been working hard to keep hidden from the man herself. She'd told no one but Selma, and only then in a weak moment in the back room of The Fix when they'd been talking about life and men and movies while Selma restocked the whiskey.
Elena and Selma had hit it off quickly. Elena had been new in town, The Fix her only real home base. Selma owned a whiskey distillery, and as one of the bar's suppliers, she'd been a steady figure in The Fix from the day Elena had walked through the doors.
They'd started out as casual acquaintances then worked their way up to friends. Not hard with Selma, who was quirky enough to be interesting and genuine enough to be likable.
Now, however, Elena was reviewing that assessment, and she shot her friend a WTF glance. Immediately, Selma raised her hands in defense. "I didn't say a word until she asked."
Elena's attention went to Hannah, who looked a little sheepish. "I've seen you looking at Brent the same way I looked at Matthew before he looked back." Her smile suggested all kinds of intimate secrets. "I guess I just hoped."
"Oh, God. Was I really that obvious?"
"Only to another woman," Selma said. "Seriously, Brent's clueless. But maybe that's part of the problem," she added with a trill to her voice.
"There is no problem," Elena said firmly.
"Oh, please. You aren't banging him. That sounds like a problem."
"Selma!"
"Just saying what we're all thinking."
"I'm not interested in him that way. Or," she added before either of the woman could challenge that statement, "I'm not naive enough to think that he's interested in me. And even if he were, it's so not going to happen."
"Why not?" Hannah said. "If you're interested and he's interested..." She trailed off with a shrug, her tone suggesting all sorts of naughty things.
"Because I'm still in grad school, and he's a divorced father. He has a life. I have a tuition bill. He's worried about Faith's college fund, and I haven't even begun my career."
Hannah and Selma exchanged glances. "All legitimate concerns," Selma said. "All surmountable."
Elena shook her head in exasperation. "You guys are impossible. Are we getting food or not?"
They'd made plans for a Saturday morning breakfast earlier in the week, intending to meet at Elena's place and then head out to one of Austin's many Tex-Mex dives for migas. But they'd gotten sidetracked by Elena's love life, or lack thereof. Now, her stomach was complaining as much as her libido was.
Hannah looked at her watch. "We're never going to find a place without a line. What have you got in the apartment? Wanna just stay in and cook?"
"Sure," Elena said, rising. Back in California, she hadn't been much of a cook. But once she moved here, she started hanging out at her dad's house and cooking with him and Eli, her half-brother. "Actually, I think I have everything for migas." A mix of scrambled eggs, onions, tomatoes, Serrano peppers, sour cream, and tortilla chips, the Tex-Mex breakfast was a favorite. "I have salsa and tortillas, too. All we're missing is the atmosphere."
"And someone to wait on us," Hannah pointed out.
"Who cares, as long as we still get the migas?" Selma said. "Besides, I'm much more generous where Mimosas are concerned. Do you have champagne?" she added as an afterthought. "And orange juice for that matter."
"Strangely, I do."
"Your kitchen is better stocked than mine," Selma said. "Easton and I both hate grocery shopping. We have take-out containers and whiskey. Lots of whiskey."
"Ours is mostly fruit and protein," Hannah said. "I love your brother," she added to Selma, "but the guy eats too well. Although he does have a weakness for Mrs. Johnson's donuts."
"Well, who doesn't?" Selma added.
An Austin favorite since the forties, Mrs. Johnson's Bakery had some of the best donuts Elena had ever tasted. Seriously, California had the beach, but Austin had a hell of a lot going for it. Including her family. And Brent.
"Come on," she said, heading toward the kitchen. "You guys can sit at the bar and we can continue this while I cook. Or we could change topics?" she added, but without much hope.
"The hell with that," Selma said as she followed. "I want all the details of today. You're going when? And what time is he coming home?"
Elena frowned as she pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge. "I'm going over to his place at four. I think he'll be back home around three in the morning. And why does that matter?"