It’s been two months since I signed the papers and almost three since I made Albuquerque my home. Lily and I talk almost every day.

The first few weeks, she kept asking me if I was one hundred percent sure about moving forward with the divorce. I understood her questions stemmed out of concern, but I couldn’t deny that it annoyed me a little. I told her about Esteban and our kiss, but I also confessed he was sort of MIA since, citing work conflicts. Like any good friend, Lily told me to be careful, and to not let the beautiful stranger with the enigmatic eyes sweep me off my feet.

But a few days after our talk, Lily found something that reassured me I shouldn’t worry about moving on at all. As it happened, my husband wasn’t pining over me one little bit. In fact, Lily told me that she found him on a dating app.

I know that I might be on the verge of a budding romance with a handsome local man, but a profile on a dating app, really?

That was fast.

To make things worse, it was one of those super snotty ones, for executives.

Oh, Brad. He’s always been his biggest fan, I have to say. I’m over you, I told myself, but it did sting when I looked at his profile. It hurt enough that I couldn’t even stand to look at his smiling face on the screenshot of the profile page she sent me. To make matters worse, I created a fake account, so I could anonymously study his profile in detail. I forwarded all the info I collected on him to Richard, in the eventuality Brad wanted to resort to bullshit moves like abandonment and desertion of marriage…or worse, to accuse me of infidelity. Who knows if he’s collecting info on me while I’m living here? It’s not like he doesn’t have the means to do it, and after our last exchanges, I don’t trust him.

Even though I’m the one who wanted to end things with him, I can’t stop the hurt and rejection. We’ve been apart just over a few months, and he’s completely ready to move on.

On the other hand, it is true that I have a severe case of boy crazy when it comes to Esteban Garcia. Is it really this easy to move on, or does it mean that my marriage was dead for longer than I thought?

“You shouldn’t feel guilty if you’re thinking about another man. Clearly, your ex-husband is ready enough to date again. Go forth and be happy,” Lily tells me a few days after her discovery. She is right, and I’m sick of being torn. I shouldn’t feel guilty if I wanted to have a bit of fun, right?

However, I’m not sure what I’m even looking for right now, and I have no idea if Esteban is someone who could be down for some kind of friends-with-benefits arrangement. I don’t know why, but I can’t even bring myself to think of him that way.

He seems too noble for that, or I’m really that biased. There is just something about his manner that screams old-fashioned.

After an alarming few days of silence, I hear from him again, finally.

Esteban: Look where I am.

He texts, attaching a picture of him with his finger pointed to a sign that says, “Santa Fe Railyard.”

Me: No way! Are you moving to Santa Fe now? After the speech you’ve given me? Shame on you.

Esteban: Absolutely not. But I had to come here to check on the other restaurant. Maybe I should have asked you to come along?

Me: Maybe. I would have said yes.

Esteban: Definitely next time, then.

Me: It’s a date.

I wonder if I said too much with my last text, but then I relax when he types back a winky face. I type and erase a “When will I see you?” several times. He then tells me he’s trying to take care of some more business, but that he should be in town soon and he wants to make plans. He writes me several texts telling me about a few issues regarding El Chile Verde’s Santa Fe location. His messages help ease my worries to an extent. Part of me is still dubious, worrying if it’s really work that’s keeping him from me after his incendiary kisses on the Fourth. Apparently, one taste of Esteban’s lips was all I needed to become borderline obsessed with him.

And then, almost like magic, it finally happens. Out of the blue, I run into the object of my obsession the morning after my latest, very wet dream featuring him as the main character. Almost a whole month has passed since our night out around town. I’ve been at the end of my rope the last several days, especially since we’ve been texting every day.

I return from a quick shopping trip and he’s in the courtyard, fixing some uneven terracotta tiles. To make the situation even more delicious—and at the same time uncomfortable—he’s shirtless, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s doing it intentionally.

There are two options: the man is either clueless about how fucking smoking hot he is, or he’s totally playing me. I stare at the curve of his back, and how his sculpted arms flex, and my mouth goes dry instantly.

I vote for the second option.

This hot shithead is doing it on purpose. I should be mad…but I can’t bring myself to get upset? Ugh, your powers are weak, Ines. I can’t even bring myself to hate him a little, even though he teased me with a drink of his mouth weeks ago, and now he’s trying to make me die of thirst. Talk about a fine line between being a flirt and being cruel.

I park and lock my bike on the opposite side to where he’s working, and I have a half idea to run up to my house, hoping he doesn’t hear me. That’ll show him. Who does he think he is coming up here doing manual labor half naked? It’s so obvious that he’s doing it to make me fall in his thirst trap…or lap.

I’m completely aware that I’m acting ridiculous, but I’ve been waiting for so long to talk to him and now I can’t find the nerve to do that. Also, how am I supposed to finally face him if he’s shirtless? How can I keep my shit together after all the naughty dreams I’ve had about him? How’s my heart supposed to stay confined within my chest? How are my eyes supposed to stay above his collarbone?

Maybe I can make a run for my door.

But, of course, he turns around and spots me. His eyes widen, and a lopsided grin illuminates his face. The way he smiles at me has my stomach doing a flip. He throws the spackling knife in a nearby bucket and wipes the sweat from his hands and face with his shirt.

I take him in as I approach him, berating myself to suck it up.

Haven’t you been dying to see the man? Here’s your chance.

“Hi, Esteban.”

“Ines,” he says as he straightens up, beautiful and half naked, glistening with sweat. I don’t find sweat appealing in the slightest, but apparently a glimpse of Esteban’s taut, naked torso is all I need to change my mind. He removes a wireless earbud from his ear.

“Lupe told me you were out,” he says.

“Yeah, I went on a little market run.” I try to focus on his face, rather than his chest. Then, I think about what he just said, and his words give me pause.

“Wait…you weren’t trying to purposely avoid me, were you? Because if you were, this is a little awkward, especially after…” The kissing. The texting. The dreams. I stop talking before I can put my foot further into my mouth while he shakes his head and bites his bottom lip, stifling a laugh. His gaze is bright and full of humor, and he’s so stupidly beautiful, possibly even more beautiful than I remember. I find myself hypnotized by his smile and his straight, white teeth, and the way his green eyes light up and are downright joyous when someone says something funny—which apparently, I just did.

“Hold on, hold on. You don’t believe I’m avoiding you after what happened between us, do you?” He puts a hand out to stop me.

I shrug. “How would I know? I haven’t seen you at all since—”

“We kissed.” He finishes my sentence. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night. Ines, do you really believe I would purposely avoid you? I told you I was coming by, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I know I’ve been gone, and work sounds like a lousy excuse, but it’s the truth. Soon enough I’ll explain why, I swear…and you’ll see you have nothing to worry about. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I interrupt him, nodding. I’m too embarrassed to continue on the subject.

“There are several reasons why I haven’t come around, which I hope I’ll be able to explain to you soon.”

I nod, nervously. I notice the earbud in his hand.

“What are you listening to?” I blurt out.

“Right now? Patsy Cline.” His eyes study me attentively, almost as if he’s trying to compare the person in front of him to the memory he had of me. I hope I look better than his memory right now in the bright sunlight. I thought I looked really good on the night we hung out, and the evening light makes everything look prettier. Instead, I’m sweaty, I’m squinting in the sunlight, and my hair is a mess…but wait a moment. We have something important to discuss.

Did he say Patsy Cline?

“Patsy Cline?” I ask him, incredulous. It’s just so…not the kind of music I thought he’d listen to.

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. I love Patsy Cline. She’s an unusual choice for something to listen to during manual labor, that’s all,” I say, gesturing to the work in progress. “And…kind of old-fashioned, no offense,” I say, cautious.

“None taken. I like to think I’m a bit old-fashioned.” He shrugs, smiling before grazing his bottom lip with his teeth. He runs a hand through his hair and the way his arm stretches and his chest expands has me all hot and bothered. I know his eyes are on me even when I’m not looking directly at him. It’s both unnerving and exciting.

“I had my music on shuffle,” he explains. “What can I say? I love Patsy. I’m not going to skip on her.” His voice is full of humor, and I can’t resist him. I smile, too, and a warm wave rushes through my body, making my skin tingle, excitement brightening my cheeks.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” I lean closer and get a whiff of him. He smells like deodorant mixed with sweat and sun. It’s surprisingly pleasant. My skin aches with the need to touch him. “I love Patsy, too,” I whisper in the direction of his ear, my mouth just a few inches away from him.

Keep yourself together, Ines.

I pull back and almost, almost lose my balance, but I recover and make it look like I put my foot on one of the uneven tiles.

“Are you okay?” Esteban offers me his hand, and I take it, even though I don’t need the support. Flirting 101 here, folks.

“Stupid tiles,” I mutter, and manage a smile.

“See? That’s why I need to fix them. Did you meet the lady who lives in the house over here?” He points behind him.

“Dolores? Oh, yes. Didn’t I tell you? We’re friends. We play 500 rum together at night.”

“That sounds fun,” he says, a gleam of surprise coloring his eyes.

“She was supposed to be my wing-woman on the Fourth of July, but she never showed up.” I lock eyes with him.

“Hmm. I have to say I’m not upset about that. Plus, knowing Dolores, she probably had a date lined up for the night.”

“My Dolores?” I ask.

“The very same. She has the reputation of being a heartbreaker,” he whispers, leaning closer.

I let out a surprised laugh, thinking about how I know nothing at all about that side of her. She’s always mum about her affairs, but she asks a million questions about mine.

Once again, I got played.

“Anyway, Lupe told me about the tiles and I couldn’t stand it if Dolores got hurt…or you for that matter.” His eyes soften when he says the word you. The knot in my throat is unbearable. The electric current in my body is calling for me to touch him and is going to make me do very stupid things, I just know it.

God, Esteban. Take me now. Pick me up, put me across your shoulder and carry me upstairs. Make me yours and put me out of my misery.

I sigh, frustrated. He frowns. “What is it?”

I shrug, defeated by the weight of my emotions. “Nothing. I’ve just been waiting for you to come around. I wanted to see you.” I don’t even know why I’m being so blunt about it, but his reaction reassures me it’s the right thing to do. A slow, teasing grin spreads across his face, and his eyebrows rise.

“You have?”

“I have. You can wipe that smug look off your face,” I tell him in a slightly menacing tone. “I have to be honest, I didn’t think you’d keep me waiting this long. I even went by the restaurant and they told me you haven’t been around.”

He laughs softly, and I glare at him. He raises his hands defensively. “Don’t get mad. I’m not used to flattery like this.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” I reply, arching an eyebrow.

“I swear.” He takes a deep breath, and gives me one of those long, enigmatic looks that could mean a million different things, but the common denominator is: he likes what he’s hearing. “Anyway, shame on my employees. They should have told you I usually work at the one down on I-25 and that I’m only at the one on Lomas when I have to cover for someone. Like the night when I met you.” His voice is gentle, reassuring. “And on top of everything else, I also had to check on the Santa Fe location, which you knew about. You don’t know how much I wish I could have seen you sooner. I’ve thought about you every day, Ines,” he whispers, just inches from my face. My heart starts racing in my chest and my ears are ringing. The smile doesn’t leave Esteban’s face and I’m enraptured. I can’t stop staring at every bit of him. I want to run my fingers through his black shiny hair again, along his smooth, tanned skin. I’m a sucker for his bright green eyes framed by long, thick lashes. I want to feel his gaze all over my body. I briefly glance at his full lips and I ache with need. I’m spellbound.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I never thought I’d pine for a semi-stranger with this kind of intensity.

His lips stretch in amusement, and I want nothing more than to cover them with mine.

“I don’t think your staff is to blame, after all. They probably didn’t want to divulge information that would get them in trouble with the boss.”

“Silly employees,” he adds.

“You probably have women asking your whereabouts daily.”

He shakes his head, as if trying to reassure me.

“No, I don’t. Either way, you could have told me how much you wanted to see me. I would have liked that. Why didn’t you?” He smiles, his eyes roaming my face and the rest of my body.

“It seemed just too…”

“Too what?” he presses.

“Too forward. I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“You accused me of sounding like a hero from a Jane Austen novel. Now you’re doing just the same. You sound like a heroine from that period. I thought in this day and age it was okay for a woman to ask a man out.” His voice is full of humor as he steps forward, and a furious blush runs up my neck, all the way to my cheeks.

I roll my eyes. “Touché.”

“What were you afraid of? Why didn’t you tell me how much you wanted to see me?” he teases, taking another step toward me. The way he leans in closer makes my stomach flip.

“I didn’t want you to think that I was after you,” I whisper.

“Because you aren’t?” he asks, lowering his voice to mimic mine.

“Esteban, I like you, but this is all new to me.” I try to work through my embarrassment. I fail, and stare at our feet. He’s wearing brown work boots today, and I have a pair of nude-colored braided leather sandals I bought in a store not far from here.

“Ines. Did or did you not want to see me?” He puts a finger under my chin, and lifts my face up, so that I’m forced to stare into those magnetic green eyes. They are hungry and feral, and his mouth is so close to mine, I’m convinced he’s about to kiss me.

He doesn’t, however, and I almost sigh in disappointment. Instead, he takes a lock of my hair and runs it through his fingers. I fight the impulse to touch his face and trace the beautiful, soft lips I have embedded in my brain with my fingertips. My lower belly tingles with excitement and need.

“Yes, I did. I did want to see you,” I finally admit. I’ve been dying to see you.

“See? Not so hard was it?” he jokes, and I let out a grumble. He lets go of my hair, and his hand rests just under my jaw, cupping it. The heat of his skin warms mine, and I wish we could stay like this forever. It could only get better than this if our bodies were actually joined together and coming down from the most epic of orgasms.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks, his lips curled up at the side.

“Going to dinner with you?”

“Damn right. What time?”

“Seven thirty?”

“I’ll be right outside your door. Where am I taking you?” The way his eyes regard me has my heart sprinting, and I feel it everywhere in my body, like a crazy pinball bouncing from side to side. As my heart races, blood rushes to my cheeks and I don’t care if I’m blushing or not. The feeling is too good and inebriating.

“You know all the best places in town. Surprise me,” I tell him, keeping up our charade.

“Sounds good to me.”

We stare at each other, as if we’re both in some kind of primal trance. I run a hand down his strong, muscled arm, and our fingers intertwine. If I thought Esteban Garcia was beautiful before, it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the way he looks right now, as if he’s just gotten permission to devour me. My knees are weak.

I’m not mad about it one bit. I’m seconds away from pouncing on him.

But then, just like the clock in Cinderella stroking midnight, I hear Lupe’s voice calling for her brother and the enchantment breaks. I let go of his hand, and managing to look back at him just once, I race up the stairs to my apartment.