Page 38 of A Dish Best Served Hot

She loved when he called her cinnamon. He said it was because she was sweet and spicy, she knew it was because of her freckles.

“You know me better than anyone else in my life and you don’t judge me when I’m not perfect,” he told her while brushing his knuckles over her cheek. “You like me better when I’m not. You’re smarter than anyone I know and brave in the face of any problem. You are funny and sweet. Everything about you is beautiful. How can I not love you?”

Overwhelmed, Lola couldn’t speak. She just kissed him and kissed him. When he pulled her shirt off, she let him. When he put his mouth and hands on her, she let go completely. She gave every part of herself to him without shame. She let him show her that his love was deep and true. Afterward, she had no regrets.

“Hello! Lola! Are you listening to me?” her mom’s voice called over the phone. “I asked how tonight’s Krav class went.”

Lola shook herself mentally. Lately, she’d been spacing during a lot of her conversations. It was like the talk with Saint a week earlier had unleashed all types of memories that she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in years. She found them popping into her mind at the most random of times. “Fine,” she responded.

Her mom must’ve gotten sick of Lola’s distracted one-word answers because she cut to the chase. “Why did you agree to let him help if you’re just going to stress about it?” her mom asked. She was the only person who knew about Lola’s failed relationship with Saint.

“I’m not stressing about him,” Lola lied.

Her mom obviously knew it since she responded with a very dubious, “Mmm-hmm.”

“I’m not!” Another lie. She was definitely stressing about Saint’s participation in the mission to find El Hogar a new building. She couldn’t help but think that this was a terrible idea for many reasons, the first of which being that it required him to work with the El Hogar staff and volunteers, who hated him. Well,hatewas a strong word, but they for sure were not in the Saint fan club.

“You do remember that I was the one who listened to you cry your eyes out after we left Chicago right?”

Lola did remember. It had been impossible for Lola to hide her heartbreak during their weeklong journey to the West Coast. At first Lola had given her mom the silent treatment. She’d just sat in the passenger seat crying and watching unfamiliar places pass her by. When she’d started talking it was only to make her mom the recipient of her horrible mood.

Her mom hadn’t reacted to her shitty attitude.

Eventually, Lola got sick of not getting the reaction she wanted and had chilled out. It was then that her mom had shocked her by saying, “When I left, I cried every day for a year. I missed you and your brother so much it felt like my chest was caving in. This is going to sound crazy, but I even missed your dad.” Lola had scoffed at that, but her mom had just said, “I loved him. I know it makes no sense, he’s not a good or nice man, but sometimes we love what’s not good for us.” She’d paused and given Lola a loaded look. “I think you know exactly what I mean.” That had been the moment their relationship had begun to change.

Back in the present day, Lola repositioned the phone on her shoulder. “It’s not like that, Mom.” She reached for the basket of freshly made popcorn on the table in front of her. “It’s just that everyone at El Hogar is more likely to tell him to fuck off than listen to him or accept his help and I can’t blame them. I’d do the same thing. I probably should do the same thing.” She shoved a handful in her mouth and chewed.

“But you won’t because it’s Saint and despite everything you trust him.”

“In this at least,” Lola replied around a mouthful of popcorn.

Her mom hated it when she talked with food in her mouth. Case in point her next question was, “What are you eating that is so good you need to talk to me with your mouth full?”

“The bar we’re meeting at has a popcorn machine running all the time.” It had been Lola’s idea to have the first meeting between Yara and Saint take place in a public spot. She hoped that would keep everyone, namely Yara, on their best behavior.

Her mom made a noise of doubt. “A bar? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Lola didn’t think any of this was a good idea, but she knew better than to say that to her mother. It would just start another sales pitch about how Lola wouldn’t have to deal with any of this if she moved back to San Diego.

The door to the restaurant swung open and Saint stepped in. He was wearing green pants, a beige crew neck sweater, and cognac boots—all together a pretty normal outfit. Yet Lola’s body reacted like he’d walked in dressed in a loincloth.

Their eyes met and the corner of his mouth curled up just the tiniest bit. Lola just about slid out her chair. Damn, was he fine as fuck. Too damn fine for hisand herown good.

“I gotta go, Mom. Saint just walked in.” They said their goodbyes and Lola had just hung up when he reached the table.

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek in greeting and Lola inhaled deeply through her nose without even thinking. There was no doubt in her mind that she was attracted to Saint, but it had been much easier for her to keep it under control when she’d still been mad and hurt by the past. Now that they’d talked about things, a lot of that past hurt and anger was gone. She hadn’t realized how much it had been protecting her until it was gone. She felt vulnerable now.

“I thought I was the only one who showed up to things early,” he said, reaching over to grab some popcorn. He popped a few kernels in his mouth.

“Tonight is wing night and I’ve learned that this place gets crazy busy, so I figured I should get here early to make sure we had a table.” And also she was nervous as hell about how this would go and getting there early helped her center herself. “Why are you early?” She reached for more popcorn.

Saint shrugged. “I like to be prepared when entering enemy territory.”

Lola waited to see if he’d expound on that loaded statement. When he didn’t, she swallowed and asked, “Is that who we are, your enemies?”

“Notmyenemies, but I know that I’m yours.” He looked down at the table and for a split second his shoulders dropped.

Unable to ignore the urge to comfort him, she reached over and put a hand over his. “You’re not my enemy, Saint.”

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