TAKE TWO_ Who says you can't ma - Heather M. Orgeron Page 0,12

the barrage of emotion passing between us. All too soon, he pulls away, eyes glistening, and I’m left trembling in his hold—my face flushed, pulse racing.

“Bet Ryder never kissed you like that…”

Liam

Fancy donkey

I’ve never been as thankful to be surrounded by dozens of Nya’s family members as I am the moment Nya regains her wits. Mentioning her very recent ex definitely wasn’t one of my finer ideas… it zapped the lust from her eyes real quick, trading it for daggers.

Whatever. She can look at me like she wants to cut me til the cows come home. We both know if we weren’t surrounded by family, she’d be riding my dick off into the sunset.

I’m getting hard just thinking about it.

On second thought… maybe I’m not so thankful for our audience.

“Daddy!” Ellie comes running from the kitchen, her mouth coated in white dust. “They have Mexican Wedding Cookies!” She pulls a handful of the delicious crushed pecan treats—my favorite—wrapped in a napkin from her pocket and passes them to me. My little buddy is always thinking of her daddy. Pretty sure she’s snuck a pocket full from every wedding she’s attended on her mother’s side since she was three years old.

“Oh, mija, your dress is covered in powdered sugar!” While her mother fusses over the cloud cascading down Ellie’s navy blue dress, my daughter and I share a resigned shrug. Nya will be Nya.

“Is it cake time now?” Ellie calls out to her grandfather as he rushes by.

“Not yet, nieta.” He stops briefly, shuffling in place to answer. “First the Callejonada!”

I’ve never heard the word, and I’m just about to ask what it means when Nya’s head snaps from our daughter’s dress. She stands, reeling on her old man. “Papi,” she growls. “Don’t do this.” Her head shakes fervently. “The blessing was already too much. We’re not going out to parade around the neighborhood.”

Precisely five minutes later, we’re following a white donkey by the name of Diego along her parents’ street. He’s decked out with an elaborate headdress made of vibrantly colored tissue flowers and carrying a basket containing bottles of tequila strapped to one side of its back. Brightly painted clay shot glasses on string fill an identical basket hanging on his other side.

While the adults don their necklaces and fill the little cups with liquid fire, a five-man mariachi band adds music to liven up the festivities. I can’t help but move my body to the infectious rhythm. Did I mention I love her parents?

It’s a beautiful October day. Mid-seventies. Sun shining. Not a cloud marring the crisp blue sky. The leaves on the trees have already turned from green to bright yellows and oranges, providing a striking backdrop for our wedding parade.

I cock my hip out to the side, bumping Nya. Surprisingly, she hip checks me right back, and I’m rewarded with a blinding smile. Taking that as an invitation, I give her hand a tug, bringing her flush with the front of my body. Instinctively her arms reach around my neck as she sways her curvy hips in time to the beat. With the lively music, festive atmosphere, and tequila bar being carted along by a fancy donkey, even she can’t help but lose herself in the excitement.

“This means nothing.” Her whispered warning is hot on my ear. “Just a dance.”

“Noted.” I lean down and curve my head slightly, flicking the gold earring dangling from her lobe with the tip of my tongue, eliciting a sharp hiss.

“Watch it, mister.” Her body tenses before melting into mine.

I glide my hands a little lower, lightly cupping the swell of her ass trying to see how far she’ll let this go.

“Ew, Daddy.” El appears seemingly out of nowhere with her nose crinkled in disgust. Dammit, she and I are going to have to have a little chat. We’re supposed to be on the same team here. “I hope she farts on your hands!”

And just like that, playtime is over. Nya reaches around, gripping my wrists and returning them to my sides. She gives our daughter an indignant look. “Ladies don’t fart.”

“Then I guess you ain’t no lady!” El cracks up laughing at her mother’s scandalized expression.

“Burn!” I hold out my hand for a high-five. “Ouch.” I pretend to shake the sting away when she slaps her little hand into mine as hard as she can muster.

“You two,” Nya mutters, muffling a laugh. “It’s gonna be a long six—”

“What the heck?” I cut her off before she can once again throw