Page 38 of Forbidden Dance
And he kisses me again, thirsty, hungry, longing. He leans against the stone, drawing me against him, our bodies pressed tightly together.
I never want this moment to end. The warm air, the cool stone, his lean muscled body against mine. His hands roam my back and waist and shoulders. I long for more privacy, to release myself into his possession. But I know I can’t do that. I’m glad we’re here, this beautiful place, but also public, and outdoors. We can’t be tempted.
My traitorous stomach rumbles against his. He breaks the kiss and his mouth nibbles along my jaw. “Hungry?” he asks.
I want to shout, “No!” but I can’t deny the noises of my belly. When it happens again, he laughs.
“Come on, then, let’s eat something.” He takes my hand.
We walk slowly along the path. The world is so bright, green and blue and beautiful. I can’t remember feeling quite this high, even in the time before. Maybe because I was young then. Maybe because we were so wrong.
Today feels right. I’ve lied to get here. I’ve taken risks. But walking here with Blitz is absolutely worth whatever the cost.
Chapter 14
The restaurant Blitz chooses is definitely a hole in the wall. The outside is white stucco with a dark brown door. The roof is tin.
But the gravel parking lot is packed with cars and pickup trucks. When we go inside, a couple gruff-looking men with bushy beards are ahead of us for a table.
A stout Hispanic woman in a white ruffled blouse and brightly striped skirt whisks one of the men to a booth. Blitz stands patiently by a window, drawing me close to him, his chin on my shoulder and his arms around my waist.
When the woman returns, she notices him and her eyes light up. “Benjamin! Is that you?” She fans herself with a menu. “¡Dios mio!”
A few customers notice her surprise, and she immediately straightens her expression. She motions him forward. “Come this way.”
We walk toward her, and she gives him an enveloping hug. “How is your mama,hijo?”
“She’s good,” he says. “Glad I’m home for a bit.”
“You not cause her any trouble, no?” The woman’s face is stern.
“No, no,” he says.
The woman turns to me. “And who is this? She is lovely, but not Mexican!” She fingers my black hair.
I have no idea how to act. I just stand there, trying not to look panicked.
“No, Lita, I’m seeing a white girl.” Blitz can barely contain his laughter as Lita clucks.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll like her anyway.” She smiles at me. “You don’t put up with any nonsense from this one, okay?”
I nod.
Another table leaves and she waves for one of the men in line to go take it. “You wait right here, Benjamin. I’ll seat you somewhere no one will look and see who you are.”
“Thanks, Lita,” Blitz says. He takes my hand and pulls me closer to the side wall, behind the little podium where Lita keeps the menus.
When she has settled the other man and motioned for a waitress to attend to him, she returns to us. “I’ll take you to the family table, of course,” she says. She picks up a couple of menus and looks me over. “You could use a few tacos, little one,” she says to me.
“She’s a dancer,” Blitz says as we walk along the wall that borders the kitchen. I can hear the sizzle of fajitas and smell something in a fryer. My stomach rumbles again.
“Ah, so she has to stay skinny,” Lita says. “A pity.”
A half wall in the back corner separates a long table from the rest of the restaurant. The chairs are empty, although the space is littered with cups and newspapers and books.
“Everybody works the lunch rush,” Lita says. “You will have your secret space.” She winks at him. She is about to pass us the menus, then thinks better of it and tucks them under her arm. “Never mind these. I will bring you what you need.” She takes off to go into the kitchen.
“She really is like family,” I say.
