Page 32 of Heart Me Up
“Now. I need to hear what Foster wanted to tell everyone. Amy’s text said he was put in charge of something. He’s so good at his job.” She squeezed my arm. “Make sure you get one of my churros.” She lifted the plate to show me. “That Artie, he’ll eat all of them if you don’t watch him.”
“Thanks for the warning.” We walked up Foster’s driveway. I turned to study the houses near where I’d parked. Which one was Silvia’s? How much of Foster’s driveway could she see from her windows? Foster and I would certainly not be humping each other next to the street again, that was for sure.
And then we were on the porch. Showtime.
Silvia dropped my arm and opened the door.
“Foster? Look who I found outside. Why have you been hiding this boy from me?”
Helplessly I followed Silvia into the house. Shouts of “Silvia!” rang out and three grown men—a tall redhead with the remains of a peeling sunburn, a shorter Hispanic guy and a really tall black guy—all jumped out of their chairs and literally collided with each other trying to get to us.
Silvia didn’t flinch. She just held her plate in the air and said, “Boys, stop.”
Wide-eyed, I met Foster’s gaze over Silvia’s head. He mouthed, “Sorry,” at me. Next to him sat a petite black woman who had to be Foster’s partner Amy. She wasn’t hiding her interest, leaning to the side to stare at me around the guys.
The three men came to a stumbling halt like a pack of gangly puppies brought to heel. Silviatskedat them. “We have a guest. Why do you all act like idiots? Are you trying to embarrass Foster?” I was happier about running into Silvia by the second.
She reached back and grabbed my arm in a pincer-like grip. I was dragged to her side. “This is Craig. He and Foster are dating.”
Then, I swear, sure as fuck, all three of them said, “Hi, Craig,” in unison like a kindergarten class greeting a new student. I gaped at them and sent anotherWTFlook at Foster.
Silvia wasn’t done. She glared down the line of men standing before her like she was their drill sargeant. “You will be respectful to Craig, or there will be no churros for you.” She hefted the plate high again, then lowered it and shoved it at me. “Hold this.”
Desperately I grabbed the plate before it could fall, the tinfoil crinkling under my fingers. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted out.
Silvia still squeezed my arm with her other hand like a Pit Bull hanging onto a rope toy. I hoped I wouldn’t have a bruise; it was still too hot to wear long sleeves. “Craig, this is Arthur.” She pointed at the redhead, who winced.
“Artie,” he corrected.
Ignoring him, she moved on. “This is Carlos.”
The Hispanic guy waved. “Hey.”
“And this is Mike.” Another wave.
I cleared my throat. “Hey. Um, nice to meet you all.”
Foster pushed his way through his friends and gave me a kiss on the cheek and a half-hug, since I was still holding Silvia’s plate and she had control of my other arm. “Why don’t we put this in the kitchen?”
“I’ll do it!” rang out from all three guys along with outstretched hands reaching for the plate. Silviatskedat them again but let go of my arm at last before sliding between Carlos and Mike to go greet Amy, who was still sitting at the table with a resigned air.
Foster took the plate out of my hand and led me into the kitchen. The other three trailed behind us hopefully. When I was sure Silvia wasn’t looking, I rubbed my arm where she’d grabbed me. Carlos groaned in sympathy.
“She works out with these grip things,” he whispered to me while demonstrating a squeezing motion with both hands. “She can hold on tight as hell.” He patted me on the shoulder and reached around me to whisk the tinfoil off the plate Foster had set on the counter. Carlos grabbed a churro and disappeared.
Mike and Artie did the same, though Mike used a napkin and took two.
Foster gently spun me around to face him. “Thanks for coming. I know it was last-minute.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I wasn’t doing anything.” He put his hand on my face and leaned closer. Wolf whistles filled the air, but Foster ignored them and smiled as he pressed his lips to mine. It wasn’t the most passionate kiss we’d shared, but it was meaningful, this statement in front of his friends. Most of my tension dissipated by the time the kiss ended. Not all of it though. I still had to meet Amy.
Foster put a churro on a napkin for me, handed me a beer and led me to the table. Amy had moved to the next chair over, so when Foster sat down I was left with the chair between them. I braced myself mentally and put on my friendliest smile.
“Hi, I’m Craig.” I shook her hand. See, this was going great.
“I’m Amy. Nice to meet you.” She took a sip of her beer. “So, Craig, we’re all dying to hear the dog collar story.”
Fuck me.
