matters right now. “You could say we’re on friendly terms now.”
He snorted as he ran a big hand over his hair. It was so black, it almost looked fake. Thick and getting just long enough it was curling at the end. When he spoke there was still humor there but he was not joking. “We better be careful then, things are getting dangerously close to real friends.”
Between the heat coming from the stove and the way Rocco’s eyes were boring into me, I was pretty damn close to fanning myself. Thankfully, we were in an apartment full of New Yorkers and Tariq’s holler broke the spell.
“Anybody want another drink?”
We both practically jumped and went back to cleaning up before joining the others on the couch, the smells of coconut and sofrito and the chatter in Spanish making my apartment feel like home in a way that didn’t ache for the first time since I’d gotten to Dallas.
Chapter Eight
Rocco
I pulled up to the curve of Julia’s building and thanked God for my tinted windows, because I knew my jaw had to be on the floor and drooling was almost certainly happening.
Holy shit, this woman was going to be the fucking end of me. In the week since the visit to her program and dinner at her place, Julia and I managed to somehow keep things on the up-and-up when it came to my job and hers. She had been decidedly less friendly at the office than she’d been at her place, but things were definitely a lot warmer than in the beginning.
And now it was Sunday and we were all headed to a Rangers game that my firm had given me tickets for. When I’d sent out the message inviting the group, Julia had been so quiet I thought she’d say no, but in the end she accepted, and since then I’d been trying to tell my thirsty self that this was not a date.
Except Julia’s game-day attire involved cutoff jeans, which were almost certainly going to give me heart failure. Of course I had to fuck myself over by organizing an outing that had shorts as a dress code. I let my eyes slip a couple of times but made sure that they were above boob level when she got close enough to see me, but she must’ve caught on to something.
I let out a snort as she death-glared me through the windshield.
Was that a Yankees jersey? And why was she not getting in the car?
I opened my door and stepped out, and the mean mugging didn’t stop once we were face to face.
“Rocco? What are you doing here? I thought José was coming to pick me up.”
Dammit José, she was probably trying to keep her distance. Like I should be doing.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling like a total jackass. “He said since we lived so close I should get you and he’d pick up Tariq.”
She frowned at my answer like she didn’t believe me, then checked her phone. Whatever she saw there must’ve confirmed my story, because she started moving toward the door. That gave me another chance to look at her outfit, and yes, I was going to have a lot of trouble keeping my eyes on the road.
“José is a manipulative little shit. Lucky for him my family history has ingrained in me a high tolerance for his particular brand of bullshit,” she snapped out tersely, but a laugh escaped too. This woman had a soft heart, but she took no bullshit.
She gave me a long look as she slid down into her seat but did not protest further. I tried hard not to stare for too long as I waited on her to settle in before closing the car door.
Those were very short shorts and the gray tank top she had on under her jersey was giving me an incredible view of her of her assets.
When I was finally in my seat, I looked over and couldn’t help but tease her. “So you’re just going to betray your borough like that, then? And for Cano? Isn’t he on the West Coast somewhere now?”
She cut her eyes at me as she adjusted her seat belt, raising a shoulder to indicate just how little she cared about my views on her jersey choice.
“Don’t talk about my baseball husband, Rocco. It’s rude to remind people of painful events in their life.” At that she lifted the corner of her mouth and looked at me. “He’s Dominican.”