“No. I keep to myself,” she states. “I’ll make sure to put up a sign, though. It’ll be right next to the door. No Cantús allowed.”
Chapter Seven
Siobhan
My excuse is that I am overworked, overwhelmed, and undersexed. The last may not be a word, but it is true—I hadn’t had sex in so long. Iskander Cantú might be part of the scumbag sibling society—Nydia’s nickname for them—but he is hotter than the sun and sexier than Jason Momoa. My current condition created the perfect storm or the perfect brain fog.
I wouldn’t have gone to the inn with the guy under different circumstances, nor would I have dragged him into the janitor’s closet.
As excuses go, those are perfect, but if Mr. Matthews or Mr. Cantú find out, they won’t care about any of them. I can’t say that he took advantage of me. He didn’t. I wanted it. I wanted those strong corded arms around me.
Siobhan, snap out of it. Smell the wildflowers and the pink slip that might hit your desk as early as Monday.
The guy is going to think you fuck clients in the middle of the day. Your ass will hit the next ferry to Seattle soon if you don’t solve this issue pronto.
I breathe as my feet hit the asphalt. Iskander might’ve ruined my running time but I can’t let things go. My mind keeps replaying the time at the inn and the quickie in the closet. The guy knows the how, where, and what to touch to make it just perfect. Remembering how his fingers branded every inch of my skin makes me blush. I’m fucking blushing in the middle of my run, and it has nothing to do with the current activity.
Could this be more embarrassing?
Probably, and I don’t want to think about it because I’m setting myself up for another mishap.
No.
I stop when my watch buzzes. It’s a text from Mr. Matthews.
Mr. M: Take the rest of the weekend off.
Siobhan: The weekend is our busiest time of the week.
Mr. M: Three of my nephews are in town. They can manage well enough.
Siobhan: Am I fired?
Mr. M: Why would you think that? The kids are here because we need more help. I thought that’s what you wanted.
Kids? His nephew is a thirty-some-year-old man. Not a child.
Mr. M: It’s definitely what you and the businesses need.
Mr. M: I’m leaving for Seattle, and I won’t come back until Diego is ready to go home.
Well, they say be careful what you wish for. I breathe a little easier knowing I’m not losing my job for now. However, I don’t see any promise that they won’t fire me after I teach them my procedures.
Siobhan: Should I be searching for a new job?
Mr. M: Girl, you need to stop doubting yourself. I told you once and I’ll tell you again, this job is yours for as long as you want it.
Siobhan: Thank you.
Mr. M: Make sure to keep those boys in line. Nydia knows how to handle them. They can be rowdy.
Siobhan: I’ll keep an eye on them.
Nydia and I decide to take a break from everything, even cooking. Against her wishes, I place our food order at the sports bar. She offers to come and pick it up with me. As we walk down Luna Lane, I ask, “How is it possible that Iskander is Mr. Matthew’s nephew?”
“Who knows? Their father calls him Uncle Gary. They’ve always called him Uncle Gary. I did until I became an adult and realized we aren’t related,” she explains.
Every day I’m more and more confused about his relationship with Diego Cantú. Are they friends, brothers… maybe they’re lovers, and they don’t want anyone to find out? It’s possible.
“What are you thinking?”
I shrug. “They live next to each other. They are partners in everything. It’s weird, don’t you think?”
“You’re looking too much into it,” she says, almost laughing. “Is that a way to deflect the fact that you’re highly attracted to his nephew? You had your fun. Move on and be happy.”
“It was a one-time thing,” I say with conviction.
I hope I’m convincing her because my body doesn’t want to stick with the new program.
No sex with Iskander.
Never again.
“You could’ve ordered food from the diner and avoided him,” Nydia warns me. “He’s going to be at the bar.”
She’s correct, but on the other hand… “It’s not like I can avoid him for long.”
“There’s that.”
When we arrive, there’s a guy at the hostess stand. “Table for two?” he asks, then looks at Nydia and says, “I heard that you were still around here. I didn’t believe it, but here you are. And wow, you look great.”
“Efren,” she mumbles, looking around the restaurant like she got caught stealing an art piece at the museum and there’s no escape. “You guys are here.”
“He is not here,” he states. “Myka and Mane won’t be here for a few weeks.”
She nods a couple of times, but her eyes are glued to the bar. I can’t drag her there to grab our bag, but just like her, I don’t want to be here longer than necessary.
“We’re here to pick up an order for—”
“Siobhan,” Iskander interrupts me, handing me a takeout bag. “Can we talk?”
“No, you have work to do, and I’m off,” I say with conviction.
My treacherous body is saying I can go to the office and have just a little bit of fun.
“Efren and Fernando can handle everything while we’re in your office,” he states. “I need just a few minutes.”
“Go,” Nydia says, taking the bag with the food away from me. “If you don’t fix this mess today, you’re going to give yourself an ulcer.”
I make my way through the sports bar with my chin up and a smile in place. Some of the patrons greet me. I wave at them and clean some of the empty dishes and glasses as I spot them. Iskander takes some from me. “Do you ever rest?”
“Not often, but I try,” I say, placing everything I have in my arms in the gray plastic tubs before we enter the office. Once the door is closed, I ask, “How can I help you?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning against the door. “I’m not sorry about what happened between us. In my experience, that kind of chemistry is like Halley’s Comet. It happens once, maybe twice in a lifetime.”
“If I had known who you were, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“You had a rule, no names.”
“Still, a heads-up that you might be my boss would’ve been nice. I feel betrayed.”
“Listen, you’re an important employee. Abuelo always has good things to say about you. We don’t want to lose you, but I also want to pursue what’s happening between us.”
I cross my arms, zeroing my gaze on those whiskey-colored eyes. “You want a summer fling?”