She gestured to the white, tight fitting dress that went passed her knees. “How did you know my size?”
“I was the one who put away your clothes, remember? Both in and out of your suitcase.”
She narrowed her sparkling eyes at me, surprised I’d admitted that.
In three strides, I was standing in front of her, grabbing her hand. The mere touch of her skin calmed me in more ways than one.
Exactly how I knew it would.
“Let’s get out of here.”
We started the night off with dinner and drinks at a fancy Venezuelan restaurant one of my patient’s family owned downtown.
“Me gustaría una copa de vino blanco.”
Let me tell you, hearing her speak Spanish to the waiter was as fucking sexy as it was sinful.
I could sense her resolve was as conflicted as mine, and I hated it. I loathed being the reason for her turmoil. It was her birthday, and I was going to make sure she enjoyed it anyway I could.
“Si, muchas gracias.”
“Eres linda, mi amor, linda,” the waiter emphasized, making her blush.
“The fuck was that?” I snapped, when he walked away.
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing.”
“Maybe you should learn Spanish and then you’d know.”
“I don’t need to learn Spanish, I have you.”
She giggled in that girly way that made my cock twitch.
“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to ask him.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Ma’am, could you get our wai—”
“Oh my god!” She tore my arm down. “He said I was pretty.”
“You’re not pretty, Cami. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”
She bit her lip.
“So, mi amor,” I repeated what the waiter said. “Have you always spoken Spanish, linda?”
“Look at you. You even tried to accentuate, Dr. Pierce. I like you speaking my native tongue. I learned Spanish before I learned English. I didn’t speak a word of English until elementary school, where I was required to use it. The kids use to tease me relentlessly because of the way I spoke and looked. I hated going until I was probably in junior high. I had to change a few things about myself to be accepted, and in the end, it worked out.”
“I like you the way you are, Cami.”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what I looked like back then. Big lips, big eyebrows, big ass hair. Thank God I grew into my face and learned how to use a round brush to straighten out my hair.”
“What about your ass? Did it shake as much back then too?”
She smirked, shrugging. “I get my moves from my momma. We are Latina, we dance. But Journey.” She set her hand over her heart. “My homegirl has rhythm in her soul.”
I scoffed out a chuckle. “When Bailey was pregnant with Journey, music used to calm her down. It always brought her back to me.”
“Brought her back?” She frowned. “Where did she go?”
Ignoring her question, I added, “I think that’s where Journey’s love for music stems from.”
She didn’t dig further, and I was grateful for it. For once, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from telling her everything.
Not with the way I was feeling toward her tonight.
“So what did you think of the food?” she asked, reaching for the check when we were done eating.
I intervened, snatching it out of her hand.
“Aiden…”
“It was good, but your cooking is better.”
“Thank you.”
“See? Was that so hard?” I stood, handing over my credit card to our waiter. He reached for it, but I held onto it. Spewing, “Ella es mia, comprende?”
His eyes widened and he nodded.
With that I grabbed her hand, pulling her up from her seat. Her expression mirroring his.
“I thought you didn’t know how to speak Spanish?” she remarked on our way to the car.
“I don’t.”
“Then how did you know how to tell that guy I was yours, understood?”
“The soap operas you watch with Journey.”
“Oh… you mean when you’re creeping on me watching my telenovelas on the nanny cam?”
“Yes, then.”
“You’re shameless.”
I opened the car door for her. “Your chariot awaits, my Tiny Dancer.”
She stepped in, halting at the last second. “So, am I yours, Dr. Pierce?”
“Do you feel like mine?”
“One day…” she baited. “You’ll learn how to simply answer me.”
“How about this? I’ll answer you the day you learn how to say a fuckin’ thank you, instead of giving me lip.”
“Don’t hold your breath, old man.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I chuckled. “Then who would take you dancing?”