Page 9 of The Art of Deception

And boy, does he feel good.

The muscles beneath his tank top are so hard that it’s making it difficult to concentrate as he takes us to our lunchtime destination. We ride along the edge of the San Francisco Bayuntil he pulls up in front of a quaint little Mexican restaurant.

My stomach growls, and my inner glutton dances the cha-cha in excitement. Mexican is my favorite food. I slide off the bike with a pep in my step. Xander follows, then leans in slowly and undoes the strap of my helmet. His eyes meet mine, my stomach flips, and it’s as if time stands still. Everything around us fades out of focus as it’s just him and me alone and nothing and no one can burst this bubble we’re in. My heart leaps into my throat as my mouth goes dry. Goose bumps litter my skin, and it’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time—like I’m truly seeing him. I lean a little closer, his magnetism forcing me toward him—I’m being swept up in his wake.

Suddenly, a car honks its horn, breaking us from our moment. Xander clears his throat, reaches out to pull the helmet off my head, and places it on the seat of his ride. Then he gestures for us to go inside. Taking a much-needed breath, we walk in. The place is quiet, but it’s a weekday, so I’m not surprised.

We sit, the tension between us is comfortable but definitely there. We both know it. A waiter comes along quickly. The good thing is we can place our orders and not have to spend too long fussing about what we want.

We order, then spend the time before our lunch arrives with small talk.

It’s nice.

It’s easy.

Comfortable.

But he’s not giving too much away. He’s closed off, and we’re spending most of the time talking about me.

I don’t have a hell of a lot of time before I have to go back to work, so I’m going to eat like I always do. Taco sauce runs down my hands as I shove the tasty treat in my mouth while talking at the same time. “Levi’s doing all right in school, but if I have to give up the shop, I won’t have the income to keep him at thesame place.” I stop chewing for a moment and swallow. “He’s settled, but any change can unsettle him for months. He’s all about routine. We have one… at the shop, the house, his school. Change isn’t something we accomplish well… neither of us.” I lick up the side of my hand as Xander watches my every move, a slight smirk appears on his face while he slowly and neatly eats his nachos.

Maybe I’m taking over the conversation, so I spin it around. “I’m sorry, here’s me blabbing on all about me and my worries. How’s your day going?”

Xander shoves the last of his nacho into his mouth, then wipes it with a napkin, tilting his head like he’s unsure of how to answer. “I’m having trouble with my father at our family business. We don’t agree on how things should be run… but, what can you do?”

I take a sip of my margarita and shrug. “Leave. If you don’t have job satisfaction, do something else.”

He softly laughs. “If only it were that simple. I believe in what I’m doing, I just don’t like every aspect of it. With everygreatthing, there always has to be a downside.”

“You’ve got yourself in a hot pickle.”

His body wracks back in laughter. “Who the hell sayshot pickle?”

I scoff, picking up a diced tomato cube then throw it at him, hitting him square on the cheek, and I burst out laughing as he sits there shocked.

“You threw food at me?”

“What ya gonna do about it?”

His eyes narrow as he dips his finger into the guacamole. Before I can react, he reaches across the table, swiping straight down the center of my nose, the creamy substance smearing all over my face. I suppress a giggle as I glare at him. His face is alight with humor, and he sits back, arms folded like he’s king-fucking-dick.

Well, I’ll show him.

I pull my leg back, then fling it forward, kicking his shin not very hard with my red heel. He jolts in the seat, his face contorting in an exaggerated shockwave of pain while I fling myself back in my chair, laughing.

He dips his head with an exhale. “I deserved that,” he murmurs.

A concerned waiter steps up to the table. He peers at me, then to Xander, then back at me. “Everything all right here, miss?”

I stop laughing as a drop of guacamole drips from the tip of my nose. “Yes, everything’s just fine.”

The waiter glances at Xander, who can’t hold in his smirk as he tips his head. “It’s fine, we’re good,” Xander confirms. The waiter turns away, huffing.

I pull my lips in by my teeth as Xander picks up some napkins handing them over. His eyes glance up as he peers at me with a cheeky demeanor. “It’s a shame I wasted good guacamole on your face. I need to spend my money more wisely than smothering you in it.”

I snort out a laugh. “Who says it’s wasted? You can still eat it. I’m sure your tongue isquiteskillful.”

His eyes widen as his hand stops over the middle of the table like I’ve stunned him. I burst out laughing as I grab a napkin, wipe my face, then pick up my other taco and start eating. I waggle my eyebrows at Xander, who snaps out of his catatonic state.

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