Page 10 of The Stars in the Sky
But no, I wasn’t going to be distracted by the slab of caramel man candy in front of me. I remembered my ethics.
I let out an annoyed breath. One minute he’s fun and flirty and the next he was . . .
Not like me.
Not my type.
And he was an ass.
“You bring up politics all the time,” I said, “and you haven’t even asked me what mine are.”
He smirked. "Because I know you’re a fucking liberal."
Oh that's enough. We were getting nowhere. And I didn’t need to be insulted like that. I mean, not that being liberal was bad, I was proud of it. But he didn’t need to swear at me. I turned to back to the truck, done with the conversation. "You're a judgmental asshole. You don't even know me."
He just shook his head and started, "You come here from the city and you have no idea what goes on in a farm—" but I interrupted him, turning around and raising my finger.
"Oh no? I grew up as a kid of migrant farmworkers," I countered. "I never had a home, going up and down California and Mexico looking for work. My parents worked hard and saved their money and then went to school and got jobs so that my brother and sister and I would have a good life. So don't give me that 'you have no idea' shit. I'm no princess. I work hard and I play hard and I go about my business and try not to hurt anyone."
He looked exasperated, huffing out in a breath, "Then what's with the hippie-mobile and the crazy shit you eat?"
"I care about the earth and I don't want to wreck it," I yelled. And I made sure everyone knew it by my actions. My life was a political statement.
"Neither do I," he argued back. "That's why I work a ranch."
Hmm. He had a point.
At this point we had moved closer to each other, unconsciously, our steps closing the gap between us until I stood in front of him, my belly going in and out, and I noticed the sheen of sweat from the hot day on his forehead, the way his hair flopped over and how shiny, dark, and thick it looked . . .
No.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t have a summer fling with this good-looking jerk. I wasn’t going to be the hypocrite, telling everyone my politics, living it out loud, but secretly perving on a bigot.
"I just wish you’d stop calling me names," I said, looking up at him, my light brown eyes to his dark.
He looked down at me, his hand reaching forward and then stopping. An emotion washed over his face that looked like desire.
"If I do, can I kiss you?"
Holy shit.
Itwasdesire.
