“What?”
“You say potatoes, I say vodka. Tomatooo, tomahhhhto,” she sang.
Smirking, I shook my head, finally forcing myself to look at her, and wishing I hadn’t. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful when she smiled like that.
Hell, I’d waited my whole life for Carly to look at me like that—light and overjoyed, just living in the moment—and looking at me like my ability to deliver tacos ranked me as king of the hunter-gatherers, rather than a pre-punched ticket to the upper echelon.
“So what’s nostalgia mean to Leighton Rhodes?”
Yes. Good. Say her full name. Fully grasp whoyou'retalking to.
Twenty-three.
Permanently entangled in your life.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed around a mouthful of fish and pico.
The woman even swallowed sexy.
God, shewouldswallow sexy, the idea of her on her knees?—
Pull yourself together, man.
Jerking my gaze to the TV, I watched as she navigated through apps.
“I’m thinkingThe Mummy.”
“No way,” I laughed, pouring a mountain of spicy sauce over my skirt steak, shoveling down an entire taco just to create a five-alarm fire in my mouth. Maybe then my brain would stay where it belonged. “I hear nostalgic, and I thinkCasablancaorWhen Harry Met Sally.”
She nearly choked, slapping a hand over her full mouth to contain it.
“What?Didn’t peg you for a closet romantic.”
“Rude,” I muttered as my eyes watered, nose burning in protest.
“Please. What guy suggests a Meg Ryan movie?”
“She was—” I gasped, “—America’s sweetheart when I was a kid.”
Leighton cackled, passing me her cherry cola.
Gratefully, I chugged it down even though it failed to extinguish the fire burning my tongue.
“Did you know spice isn’t a flavor?” she chirped. “It’s literally just pain.”
“Delicious.”
“Masochistic.”
“Maybe,” I allowed, blinking through the burn.
When I finally caught my breath, she pointed at me with her taco.
“I was mocking you for your taste in cinema.”
“Mock away. I have no shame.” That much was evident. “Mom loved her,” I said without thinking.
“Aww,” Leighton crooned. “Well, fuck me, that’s cute.”