“How could you possibly need more than that?” Valentine swallows again, breathing slowly. I don’t know what was in that salsa, but I want some. But not as much as I want another excuse to kiss her. I know we’re doing this all wrong—I should be staying away from her, or at least taking this at a glacial pace—but I can’t help myself. The way her eyes are dancing in the dim light of this Mexican restaurant is pulling me in.

“A man has needs.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s a joke, and I’m glad she’s taking it as one because I’m not buying her tacos so she’ll have sex with me. I’m buying her tacos, and I think she wants to have sex with me, too—at least, that’s how it feels when her luscious lips move against mine. And they are damn luscious. So luscious that it almost makes me forget that this is a huge risk I’m taking.

Almost, but not quite.

Jennifer the Waitress reappears with a tray heaping with food, still apologizing. “I’m so sorry about that salsa,” she says.

I tear myself away from Valentine and go back to my own seat across the booth. “I’m not sorry.” When I say it, I look at Valentine. She smiles, glancing down at her lap for a split second before Jennifer slides her plate in front of her. Within thirty seconds, we’re alone again, and Valentine’s expression has turned serious.

“I don’t know why,” she says, her tone thoughtful, “but I like you.”

“I don’t know why I like you, either. Maybe it’s your incredible waitressing skills. You would never have brought the wrong salsa.”

“Oh, hell no,” says Valentine. “I’d never even touch that stuff. Although...that would probably get me fired from this place.” She shrugs. “But that’s okay. My job at the Short Stack was meant to be.” She says the last few words with just a hint of sarcasm.

“Why isn’t it meant to be?”

She pulls a tiny Mexican flag out of one of her tacos. “Are you sure you really want to get into the deep stuff right now?”

Under any other circumstances, I’d already be out the door of this restaurant and fifteen miles away. I haven’t bothered to have a real conversation with anyone since what happened with Angie. I sigh a little bit, and Valentine smiles. She must already be anticipating another joke. Me, the guy with the light sense of humor—is that who I am now? “I don’t mind if I’m getting deep into you.” 

It’s probably the truest thing I’ve ever said because I’m still painfully hard from kissing Valentine, tasting the sweetness of her lips. I’d like to taste the rest of her, too. She blushes. “Deep into my feelings, you mean?”

“Yes. Your feelings.” I don’t want to come off like a total asshole. “I mean, your feelings are really important to talk about.”

Valentine shakes her head. “It’s okay that you just want to get into my pants.” Then she leans forward, blushing before she even says the words. “I’m willing to admit that I want you in my pants.”

I laugh out loud. “You’re a constant surprise.”

“Why? Other women don’t say that kind of thing to you?”

“Not normally. And not—”

Valentine primps her hair. “Not women who look like me? All innocent and waitress-y?” 

“You got it. But I don’t just want to get in your pants.”

“No, you do, and that’s okay.” Valentine’s green eyes are locked on mine. “A summer fling, right? Listen, I think we both know that we’ve got a connection.” She drops her voice, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “But we don’t have to pretend we’re falling in love.” She lifts a taco from her plate and holds it up like she’s toasting me. “To tacos and sex!”

I didn’t order tacos, but I hoist my burrito off of my plate, the sauce dripping onto my fingers. “Tacos and sex!”

But even as we both dissolve into laughter, I can’t escape a tiny, sinking feeling.

* * *

“...so I came back here, and Sharon gave me my old job back. It’s definitely...” Valentine pauses and eats another bite of taco while she thinks. “It’s not terrible, but it’s not what I had in mind for a post-college gig.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Which part?” She’s been telling me about what brought her to Lakewood. We’re racing against time for our date, and even though we toasted to tacos and sex and no commitments, Valentine still wants to play the dating game. I want to know about her, too. I’ve wanted to know more about her since the moment I saw her. “You have to believe she gave me my job back. We met at the Short Stack.”

The more she tells me, the less I’ll have to tell her about myself. 

“I’ll never forget meeting you at the Short Stack.” I watch the color rise to her cheeks again. Valentine loves it when I drop my voice into that ever-so-slightly deeper tone. Her tell is her bright red cheeks. “But I don’t believe that you, Valentine Carr, couldn’t get a job at a marketing firm.”

“Oh, I got a job.” She eats some Spanish rice, and then a long drink of Diet Coke. “It’s just that after the breakup, it was hard to find another one.”

“Why would breaking up with that douchebag affect your job?” The second the words are out of my mouth, I feel like a complete dick. Who knows? Maybe she was such a wreck that she couldn’t work. If it weren’t for Minnie, I’d be a wreck right now, just from the stress. “I mean—”

Valentine grimaces. “It was owned by Conrad’s dad, and he didn’t...paint a very flattering picture of me. And somehow that information got to my manager, and then—” She rolls her eyes even harder. “The details aren’t so important.”

“Couldn’t you sue the fuck out of them for that?” 

“Probably, but who has time when there are pancakes to serve?” The nervous smile flashing across her face tells me that she’s not thinking about that now, that she’s still smarting from the wound. “Anyway, I put in for a few other jobs before I left the city, but I only have college references now. I can’t use my manager at that firm.” Her expression darkens. “Conrad really fucked things up for me. I just need a little while to regroup, and then I’m sure it’ll be different.”

It’s already different for me. She’s like a seismic shift, something that changes the world forever, even if we can’t go in for more than a summer fling. “I’m sure.”

“So why are you in Lakewood?”

“My brother’s here.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Wouldn’t you move to live near your sister?”

“No!” Valentine laughs. “I love her, but she does her own thing. And California is too far away.”

“From what?”

“From you, for one thing.” Valentine has to be joking, and she follows it up with a laugh. “I don’t know. From the city?”

“I know how much you’d miss the city,” I say meaningfully, raising one eyebrow. “You can admit that you have an enormous crush on me, Valentine. We’ve already kissed twice.”

She straightens her back, trying to look prim. “Yes, and that was a mistake. We should be taking things slow.”

I’m out of my seat in an instant, sliding into the booth next to her again. “Taking things slow?” Valentine’s eyes go wide, and she draws in a big breath. “You just toasted me with a taco and told me this was about sex and Mexican food. A summer fling is what you said. Summer flings aren’t slow. Summer flings are fast and hot and spicy. Almost too spicy. So spicy they burn your mouth.” Valentine bites her lip, and I lean down and kiss her just once, a glancing heat against my own lips. I lower my voice like this is the most important thing I’ll ever say. And fuck, maybe it is. “If you don’t want a summer fling, you can say so right now, Valentine. But if you do? It’ll be so hot you’ll never be the same. The things I want to do to you—” My cock pulses against my pants. Valentine’s breathing hard. “We can have something that’s too hot to last. Do you want that?” I run my fingers down the line of her jaw. “Tell me.”

“I want that.” Her voice is a sultry whisper. “When can we start?”

I lean down until my lips are barely an inch from her mouth and whisper, “As soon as you’re finished with your tacos.”

Valentine laughs, slapping at my shoulder. “Deal.” Then she signals for the waitress. Jennifer scurries over. “I’m going to need a couple of boxes, Jennifer,” Valentine says with a big smile. “We have to go.”