Bastian was never getting any more ever again.
I didn’t enjoy one night stands coming back to terrorize me.
I poured blueberries in the blender, spices that would turn the banana and ice black, and just as Bastian started to speak, I hit the power button.
I smirked at him and winked. His response was to lift an eyebrow.
Welcome to Mo’s food truck, jerk. Here, I rule.
He looked toward the sky and sucked on his teeth. It gave me a good look at his strong neck, how tense it was, and the little bit of black ink that peeked out from his shirt. I’d run my hands over those tattoos while he’d dragged a finger over mine just a week ago. What a reminder collar that he wasn’t all stuck up suit but something more underneath.
Once the whirring morphed to a soft hum, I knew I had to turn off the machine. I grabbed two Styrofoam cups and took the big pitcher off the stand to pour in the contents. The fruit complemented the spice in this mixture well. I’d made it a million times before but I usually called it Midnight on the Beach. Today, I would add the little twist just for them. “You need to be calm or energized today, Dante?”
“Does it matter?” Bastian grumbled.
Yet, his friend behind him with the piercing green eyes, responded quickly, “We need energy.”
“Well, then. I guess Mr. Difficult will have what Dante’s having.” I grabbed a citrus oil with a touch of lavender and shook in a couple drops to top off their drinks. I handed over the cups and straws.
I was about to say the total when Bastian laid a fifty on the window counter between us. “You own this truck then?”
I stared at the money, not at all sure I wanted that big of a tip. I had men come in and out of my little beach town all the time. They threw money around like it meant something, like they could attach all the strings in the world to it too. “So what if I do own the truck?”
“I need to know if your grandma has partnerships with other businesses in the area.” He nudged the money my way.
I narrowed my eyes at him, rung him up, and pushed the change back his way. “I don’t have information for you.”
“Oh, come on. You’re sitting here in the only food truck in town, practically the only small business if I’m being honest, and you don’t know that she’s made some deals?”
“I don’t make a lot of money here, Bastian,” I said softly, my eyes darting between him and his accomplice now.
A seagull cawed overhead and the water crashing on the beach sounded much louder than before.
“You could make more if you answered my questions.” His voice was calming now, almost hypnotic, urging me to go ahead and obey. He pushed the extra change my way.
I wasn’t that naïve.
I shook my head.“I don’t want your money.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could see him clenching his jaw. Then he slowly unwrapped the straw, never taking that gaze from mine. He dipped it into his drink and brought it to his lips. Full lips. Ones that wrapped around the straw and sucked in my creation.
I shouldn’t have been turned on. He looked like a stuffy god, a ruler who needed to unwind.
It had me curious, nervous, fearful, and turned on all at the same time.
All things I shouldn’t be feeling. The one feeling missing that should have been there was regret.
He cleared his throat and I jumped, lost in my own thoughts and focused directly on his mouth. It quirked up before he immediately let it drop again. “Your shake is really good, Morina.”
“It’s out of this world.” Dante stepped around him and put his large hand out as if he wanted to be friends. “Nice to see you again. Wasn’t aware we were going to. Your name is Morina, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why, Dante? Find something in my file that isn’t there now?”
“Your file says you reside in the town over and have no relation to Maribel.”
“My mother was quirky with birth certificates. My dad’s the only name on mine.”
He lifted a shoulder and turned to Bastian. “Can’t expect me to know that.”