Page 2 of Cava with My Colleague

Izan is licking Manny’s face and he’s laughing while digging his nails into the dog’s haunches. It’s like the tropics down there while I’m up here in the arctic with Carlos’s frosty glare.

“Yes.”

“Wow,” I say, dropping my bags and bringing my hands up to my head, making the mind-blown gesture. “You have a dog and you live in the gayborhood.”

Carlos stiffens even further. “What’s wrong with living in Chueca?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I wish I lived here. It’s just . . . very bright and colorful.” My gaze runs down Carlos’s outfit. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, which is pretty much par for the course, whereas Chueca is literally one of the gayest—in all senses of the word—place I’ve been to. The subway signs have rainbows on them, for Christ’s sake.

Below us, Manny shrieks. My gaze drops to the dog, who’s discovered that the paper bags contain interesting things—stick-shaped things that probably smell a lot like a leather leash to a dog.

Izan dances away from Manny as he tries to grab the black leather riding crop from his mouth. I bought it on a whim in the store. Unfortunately, Manny’s cackling so hard he falls on his ass instead of doing anything effective about it.

Carlos jumps into motion, clicking his tongue at the dog and shortening his hold on the leash. The dog backs up, knowing it’s got something it’s not supposed to. Carlos’s voice is firm and crisp, telling the dog to drop it. “¡Suelta!”

The dog looks at him. His little Labrador eyebrows, flecked with gray, look up at his dad with an expression that is pure “aw, do I have to?”

“Izan,” Carlos repeats, even more sternly. “Suéltalo.”

Slowly, the dog drops the riding crop on the ground. Carlos reaches down and picks it up, handing it back to me. His fingers brush mine, and I catch the faint scent of his cologne—something woody and clean. His hands are larger than I’d expected, elegant for someone who spends his days behind a desk in marketing. When his dark eyes meet mine, there is heat there for just a flash before he looks away.

Wait. Was Carlos . . . flustered?

A thrill runs through me that had nothing to do with the shopping bag full of toys.

Absolutely not, Jade. This man rejected you and then treated you like a pariah. No amount of chin dimple changes that.

“I am so sorry about that. I can pay for a new one.”

It’s a nice offer, but Carlos looks wildly uncomfortable at the thought of going into the store. I think. He looks wildly uncomfortable most of the time around me.

I lift the handle up to my eyes, taking my time inspecting the leather to see if there is any damage. There’s a few indents from the dog’s teeth but nothing too bad.

Carlos’s eyes are looking anywhere but at me, and I would feel bad for making him uncomfortable except it’s usually the other way around. Plus, I’m allowed to have a happy and healthy sex life, blah, blah blah. It’s not like I planned for this.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, tucking it back into my bag. I give Carlos my slowest, sweetest smile. “Besides, your dog is smart; that’s a very fun toy.”

Something flickers in Carlos’s eyes—heat, maybe shock, definitely awareness—before his expression shutters completely. He takes a deliberate step back, putting distance between us, but not before I catch the way his gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second.

“I need to go,” he says, his voice rougher than before.

“Hot date?” I ask sweetly. And fine, maybe with a little bit of jealousy. I’ve been in a dry spell myself.

“No.” The word comes out clipped. Then, as if he can’t help himself: “You should be more careful where you shop. Someone from work might see you.”

“Someone from work just did see me, Carlos.”

His jaw clenches. “Exactly.”

I bite down on another retort, which is something along the lines of if you have concerns about the merchandise, you’re welcome to inspect it more carefully.

He turns and walks away before I can respond, Izan’s leash tight in his fist. I watch him go, the tension in my chest fading.

Okay, fine. I press a hand to my sternum and take a breath. That was a lot. That was—objectively—a lot. I will not be thinking about it again. Starting immediately. This is me, not thinking about it.

“Jade,” Manny says.

“I know,” I say.