Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Oh dear.
“Javi—”
He was hitting buttons on his steering wheel as he declared, “What’s up with us is none of their fucking business.”
Man, I wish there could be an us.
I couldn’t focus on that.
The car started ringing and the dash said he was calling Jessie.
“Javi!” I cried.
“Dude, let me talk to Harlow,” Jessie demanded as an answer to the call.
“You aren’t fuckin’ talkin’ to her,” Javi stated irately, even if she was since she was on his dash line, and I could hear and speak to her. “And you aren’t in our shit, woman. Stay out of our shit. Or better yet, back your girl, no matter what.”
“That’s what I want to talk to her about,” Jessie said.
I opened my mouth, but Javi was speaking again.
“You did your damage. Your penance is you gotta stew on it. I got Harlow. You’re giving her some space.”
And with that, he hung up on Jess.
“Now you’re getting in on mine and Jessie’s stuff,” I accused.
“Were you about to cry two minutes ago?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then no. Fuck no. Someone makes you cry, they answer to me.”
Um…
What was going on?
That was something a friend said.
That was something a boyfriend said.
No, no, no.
That train had left the station and was long gone.
I let that go and focused on our conversation.
“Javi, I cry all the time,” I shared. “I’m a crier. I saved that video about the little boy who waves at the cat sitting in the window every morning on his way to school, then the cat disappears, and the little boy is crushed. He keeps walking by and looking up, no cat. And he thinks the wee fur baby died. We all think the wee fur baby died. Then one day, he looks up, and the cat is back…”—I leaned toward him—“with her wee kitties. I’ve seen that video, like, fifty times, and I get choked up each time.”
Javi was dead silent after I shared this, but even in his silence, something was happening in that cab.
It felt soft, warm, cozy, intimate…miraculous.
I watched his profile as this was happening, and it was thoughtful along with its usual beautiful.
And then his rough voice came gentle when he said, “You can cry about shit like that. Your girls do not make you cry.”
“Jav—”
“Baby, no,” he whispered.
Since his voice was as sweet as the feel of the cab, and he called me baby again, I decided to shut up and stop looking at what was now his sweet, along with thoughtful and beautiful profile, and face forward.
“You eaten?” he asked.
“I had some of Lucia’s brie, ham and jalapeño croquettes a couple of hours ago.”
“Right. Better question. Are you hungry?”
I was peckish.
“Um…”
Shockingly, Javi read my “Um.”
“We’ll swing through a drive-thru, take it to your place and finally talk this shit out.”
I wasn’t sure I was up for that, but I didn’t say anything, because my hormones were beating out my emotions, and they always wanted to spend time with Javi. My stomach was assisting my hormones in this endeavor, so there was no way my emotions were going to win.
(Though, truth told, there were a goodly number of my emotions that wanted to talk stuff out with Javi too.)
“What’s your favorite fast food?” he asked.
“Culver’s,” I answered readily, then thought about it. “Also Cane’s. And Cava, though they don’t have a drive-thru. We’d have to go in. And if we go in, there’s also Thai Chili 2go. They have some really yummy, spicy chicken bites and their pad thai is super delish. I mean, for a fast-food Thai place. If you’re a Thai food aficionado, it might not suffice. Or we could share some of Café Rio’s sweet pulled pork barbacoa nachos. I’m a sucker for their sweet pulled pork barbacoa. And all of those are kind of on our way home, well, give or take a few blocks.”
“Are all of them on the table?”
“Sorry?”
“You got a taste for all of those right now?”
“Definitely.”
He hit his turn signal to get in the right lane.
“You get anything from Jinx?” he asked.
“No, except she’s not hip on going undercover on this mission.”
“No comment on that too,” he muttered.
I looked at him again. “Why no comment?”
He glanced at me before looking back at the road. “Because if I commented, I’d do it to say she’s got a brain in her head and a sharp sense of self-preservation, and you women goin’ after this shares you do not.”
I turned forward. “I’ll stick with your no comment.”
Another mutter with, “Good call.” Then, “The porn guy give you anything?”
Something hit me, so I said, “Oh my God.”
“What?” Javi asked sharply.
“I don’t know Mr. Stupidhead’s name.”
The sharp was out when he queried, “Come again?”
I turned to him. “We’ve never asked Mr. Stupidhead his name. Sure, he’s always rude to us and he stares at my breasts every time he looks at me.”