our grand opening—for the mechanical side of things—and I’m still no closer to asking Seraphine to dinner tonight than I was when Mamá decreed it.
There’s not really a suave way to tell a woman you’re interested in but won’t date that your mother is demanding to meet her.
The three stooges—Arrón, Silvi, and my traitor of a daughter—are absolutely no help either. Honestly, I think they like watching me squirm.
Desi sighs loudly, causing me to look her way. “Dad, are you listening?”
“Yes.” Mostly, I think to myself.
“Then what did I just say?”
“You asked if I was excited.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, after that.”
Guilt prickles at me. “I’m sorry, pollito. I am lost in my mind. Say it again.”
“It’s okay, old man. I know your brain isn’t as sharp as it once was—you know, because of your advanced age.” She pauses for dramatic effect, her deep brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “I didn’t actually say anything.”
I groan, and she bursts out laughing.
“You think you’re funny?”
“Uh, yeah. Silvi bet me twenty bucks you wouldn’t fall for it, and now I’m that much richer.”
“I can’t believe you!” I mime plunging a knife into my heart and slump down onto the table before popping back up. “Get out of here or you’ll be late for school.”
She stands and moves to the sink to rinse her bowl. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, Des. Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”
She smirks. “Oh, I won’t.”
I don’t have anyone scheduled at the shop for two more hours, but I decide to head on over. It’s not like I’ll do anything here other than obsess over dinner.
Unfortunately, it seems location doesn’t affect my fixation; I’ve spent every second brainstorming ways to ask Seraphine to dinner.
As if my thoughts alone summoned her, Seraphine waltzes through the door twenty minutes early. “Good morning,” she says, all sunshine and smiles as she approaches me.
She’s dressed in a black logo-tee that’s knotted at the waist and a pair of skin-tight jeans that hug her lush curves. The combination is low-key and hot as hell all at once. So hot, I hardly notice the still-steaming cup of coffee she’s holding out to me.
“For me?” I ask when she clears her throat.
“Yup. Drink up while it’s hot.”
I accept the to-go cup, deliberately making sure our fingers brush. It feels like I’m back in high school with no game. “This is twice you’ve brought me coffee. Don’t go spoiling me.”
She grins and takes a big sip of her drink. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You are very thoughtful.” My eyes drop to her lips as she licks away a dab of whipped cream with a happy little moan.
“What can I do to help?” she asks, blessedly changing the subject, because I was two seconds away from taking her in my arms and tasting her drink straight from her lips.
“Nada—nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Her wide eyes and pouty lips detour my thoughts back into dangerous territory. “There’s not anything at all?”
Everything about her screams fuck me—and the worst part, I don’t think she even knows it. She’s an effortless blend of innocence and sin. Her dick-stirring sex appeal comes to her as naturally as breathing; it isn’t something she thinks about—it just is.
I quickly call to mind the most unsexy thing I can think of—cutting my abuelita’s toenails when she was sick—before answering her. “We have a few appointments on the books, and I have a few interviews, too. But for the most part, we’re ready to go.”
Her earlier grin returns, and since I’m apparently a schoolgirl and not a grown-ass man, I get actual butterflies at the sight of it.
“Let’s do this then!”
As she says this, Rodger and Danton—the two mechanics I hired last week—walk in.
“Morning, boys,” Seraphine says with a finger wave.
Rodger grunts as he heads straight for the coffeepot. He’s older than me by about twelve years and has been in the car industry for three decades. He’s a little on the grumpy side, but his knowledge is priceless.
Danton, on the other hand, is only a little older than Seraphine and as green as a sapling. His eagerness more than makes up for it, though.
“Good morning, Seraphine.” He practically purrs her name, and I see red; turns out his eagerness may actually get him killed.
An involuntary snarl rips from my chest, and Danton rushes to acknowledge me as well, as though his lack of a greeting was the issue. “Mateo! Glad to be here, man.”
“I’ll bet you are,” I mutter, earning me a backhanded smack to the