Page 23 of Forget Me

Jesus, she looked ready to tuck into bed. I wished I had the right to do it.

“Wow,” I echoed.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Her freshly washed cheeks reddened. “Habit. It’s been a long day.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Had she taken off her bra?

I held a potholder in front of myself to hide the erection stiffening against my thigh.Woo her with food, tonto.

“Everything’s ready. Sit down, and I’ll plate it up.”

“Thanks.” She tilted her head like she was trying to figure me out, but she scuffed over to the table and sat.

I scooped rice and stew onto two plates and brought them to the table. “It’s chicken, not pork,” I said.

“Thank you.” She leaned back into the stiff wooden chair. “It smells fantastic.”

“My tía is a great cook. Almost as good as my father was.” I sat in the chair across from her.

“Was?” She didn’t pick up her fork but inhaled over the steaming plate.

Shit, why had I mentioned him? Food always brought him to the front of my mind. “He died.”

“I’m sorry.” She did that thing that people did, pity softening her eyes.

I didn’t want her pity. Though I wanted everything else from her. “It was a long time ago. Ten years. And I was grown when it happened. How was work?”

She blinked, then her lips turned down. “Fine.” She picked up her fork and scooped up a bite of rice and stew.

“Really? You don’t look like it was fine. And you stayed so late.”

“Work was fine. It was the foundation meeting after that wasn’t great.” She closed her lips over the bite of food, and her eyes rolled up. She chewed and swallowed. “God, that’s delicious.”

“What happened at the foundation meeting? It wasn’t about your presentation again, was it?”

“No, no.” She chewed another bite of stew and hummed. “We have this big gala coming up. You know, a fancy-dress party. I volunteered to be part of the planning committee. It’s, um, kind of a big deal for the foundation. Plus, I have to actually go to the gala. Like, dressed-up.” She rubbed at the frayed cuff of her sweatshirt.

“You don’t want to go?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do. It’ll be great for networking. Jackson Jones will be there, and I want to impress him. There’s this job I could get. A full-time one with his foundation, and I think he’s in favor of giving it to me.”

“A job with more money?” San Francisco was expensive. Everyone needed more money. Except my cousin and his billionaire friends.

She sipped her water and smiled, her lips sparkling with moisture. I rocketed my gaze up to her eyes, but they were just as distracting with their droopy, sleepy lids that reminded me of the night at the bar, when she’d kissed the hell out of me.

“It’s probably the same money I’m making at Synergy. But it’s a job that matters. The foundation helps kids. Neurodivergent kids. I had a friend growing up… Anyway, I want to be part of it. I want to succeed, but I also want my work to help people.”

Warmth bubbled in my chest. I’d fallen for Mimi’s beauty and her sharp mind, but now I learned she had a soft heart, too. She was an angel.

“But…” She picked up her fork and separated a chunk of potato from the stew but didn’t spear it. “Not only is it formal attire—and I don’t wear formal dresses—but I’m supposed to bring a plus-one.”

“Clothes are easy, especially in a city like San Francisco.”

“Not when you’re shaped like me.” She waved at her baggy sweatshirt.

“You were stunning at your friend’s wedding. You have a gorgeous shape. Like a woman, not a toothpick.”

Her cheeks went as red as the roses in the vase. “Um…thanks. But shopping can be a challenge.”

I puffed out my chest. “I’ll take you shopping. I’ll find you a store with dresses you’ll love.”

---