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I purse my lips. “I’ve never had an emotional connection with a man—at least not in an intimate way.”

“What?” Ileana’s eyes are wide with surprise. “You’re so stunning—I guess I always assumed you’ve had boyfriends by the dozens.”

I shake my head. “No. Even through school, I worked to support my family and to save up for the bar. Between school and bartending, I worked eighty—sometimes ninety—hour weeks. Doesn’t really leave time for dating.”

Ileana’s hand drifts to my shoulder, and she looks deep into my eyes. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

After another sip of the next shot of tequila and some thought, I answer her. “Why do you have to be so damned smart? No. It’s not the only reason. There are others . . .”

“Like?”

I shake my head. “I’ll sound conceited if I tell you.”

“I know you aren’t conceited. Out with it.”

“I know the way I look, okay? Everyone always says I’m beautiful or hot. And I definitely don’t cringe when I look in the mirror. But looking like this, it does attract the type of people I’m not really interested in.”

“What do you mean?” Ileana takes another sip of the tequila.

“The few times I did try dating before giving up on the entire thing, I realized I attracted two types of men only. The really clingy ones who were ready to propose, and honestly, they creeped me out a little.”

“And the second type?”

“The users. The ones more than happy to take me to bed, but just not to meet their mom. You know?”

“I see,” Ileana says thoughtfully. “So, you’d rather use people before they use you or kick them to the curb before they become squatters.”

We both burst out laughing. This is the first time I’ve experienced sarcasm from Ileana.

“We should do this more often,” I say. I’m thoughtful for a long moment, and Ileana doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the quiet. Then there’s the cold hard truth. “But really, Ileana, I’ve never, not once had someone in my life who gave me an example of a healthy relationship. I’m not sure I believe it’s possible.”

“It is possible,” Ileana reassures me with a sad smile, and I know she’s thinking about her late husband. “But back to you. I don’t think you’ve really told me what was bugging you earlier. What’s got you thinking about all of this?”

I take the remaining shots on the flight in quick procession and tell Ileana everything about my night with Bren. She takes a long moment to answer as she considers my predicament.

“I see. And you say he is really famous?”

“I can’t believe you don’t listen toIndustrial November,” I say as if I, too, had listened to them much before meeting Bren.

“I don’t like rock,” she says simply.

My jaw drops at Ileana’s admission. “You realize you work at a Spanish rock bar?”

Ileana laughs. “Yeah. Tell me about it. But I tolerate it for the people.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say with a chuckle.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you like Bren.”

“Of course I like him. He’s superhot, and while our night together was pretty standard, at least sexually speaking, he kinda blew my mind. Our chemistry was incredible . . .” I smile. “Even when we were fighting.”

“You haven’t experienced this before.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone picking you. Think about it. You take all your lovers from the bar. You always open up the conversation and flirting. Sure, it’s after you’ve noticed they can’t stop staring at you, but it’s always your pick. With Bren, it was different. He approached you. Then you both took a dislike to each other. Then he came back to apologize. I think you like having someone bend to you, for once.”

“That’s crazy,” I say.


Tags: Ofelia Martinez Romance