“And yet she still looks this hot after all that,” Monroe declares.
A wolf whistle comes from someone on the far side of the lot. I laugh and put my hand over my face.
“So”—Monroe raises his hand in a mock toast despite having no drink—“happy birthday to Natalie, one badass bitch!”
The crowd toasts back and then the guy with the guitar starts a rendition of Happy Birthday. A chorus of diners serenades me.
Monroe hops down from the table, singing along with them and grinning. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Nat-a-lie . . .” He leans over. “So, in answer to your question, no, I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
My hands go to my hips, and I give him my are-you-out-of-your-mind face. But I can’t help the swell of emotion that comes from the simple act of being sung to by a large group of people. There’s some weird power in that. I never really had birthday parties—even as a kid. Mom wasn’t organized enough to put something together. So I’d get a few presents and a trip to McDonald’s with my cousins. This is so much better.
I close my eyes. Because I will not cry, dammit. “If you think this is going to get me to kiss you again, prepare to be disappointed.”
“As if I would have ulterior motives,” he says, and I open my eyes to find him watching me with an amused expression.
And son of a bitch, I do want to kiss him. Because he looks so damn good standing there. Because unlike Caleb, he isn’t afraid to look silly in front of other people. Because he called me a badass and meant it.
I make a sound of frustration. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”
I step into his space, and I’m not sure who kisses who first. All I know is that before the birthday song ends, his hand is in my hair and his lips are on mine and my body is melting against his.
My lips part and his tongue is stroking mine, devouring any remaining resistance. Hungry sounds escape me, and my fingers seek something to hold on to, eventually knotting in his T-shirt. There’s a frantic edge to both our movements, like we don’t know which way to go next, like we want to do everything all at once. We’re going to bump noses; I know it. But somehow we work it all out. His hands slide to my waist, and I’m pushing onto my toes. My arms loop around his neck, and we’re kissing, kissing, kissing.
Somewhere in the background people are clapping and catcalling. And finally my mind registers where we are. There are people. We’re being watched. I break away with a panting breath. My cheeks are on fire, and I press my face into his shoulder. “Oh my God.”
Monroe seems a little blitzed for a moment, too, but takes a breath and seems to come back to himself. He releases his tight hold on me and keeps his back to the crowd. “Uh, yeah. That wasn’t exactly my plan. Should we take a bow?”
“I think we’ve done enough.”
“Right. Pork?”
“You’d better be talking sandwiches.”
He laughs and loops his arm over my shoulder. “Come on, birthday girl.” He gives a wave to the crowd. “Show’s over, people.”
There are a few boos.
Half an hour later, my cheeks have finally cooled, and I’m happily finishing off the last bits of a taco. “You were right. This is freaking delicious.”
“Right? Who needs Madrid when you can get this wrapped in greasy paper?”
“Word.”
“And now for the finale. Cake!”
“You rang?” A girl with spiky, bright orange hair and possibly more tattoos than Monroe stops at our table. She sets down two cupcakes in front of us. They’re as big as softballs and smell like baked heaven.
“Wow,” I murmur.
She nods as if to say, Yes, I know they’re beyond fabulous.
She pushes one toward Monroe. “Blue Velvet for you because it’s new, and I need your honest opinion. Cory says people are naturally freaked out by blue foods, but I think he’s making shit up just so we put his newest creation on the menu instead of mine. It may stain your teeth blue for a while, by the way, but I think it’s worth it.”
Monroe eyes the bright blue cupcake with the fluffy cream-colored frosting. From the looks of it, he may be one of those people freaked out by blue foods.
The girl sticks a candle in the other cupcake. This one has deep red frosting. “And Blood and Chocolate for your girl because getting cheated on requires chocolate.” I must look worried because she adds, “Don’t worry, no real blood. It’s a dark chocolate cupcake with Blood Orange Buttercream frosting.”
“Right. Got it. Thanks.”
“Tyra and her brother like naming their baked goods after movies. Preferably horror films,” Monroe says, swiping his finger through the frosting on his cupcake and taking a lick. His eyebrows lift. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Right?” She seems pleased and adjusts the candle in my cupcake. “I want to bathe in that frosting.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far,” he says, but he’s taking another swipe.
Tyra holds out her palm to him. “Give me your lighter for your girl’s candle.”
“No can do. I quit smoking, heard it screws with your taste buds,” Monroe says, breaking off a piece of his cupcake. I try not to get distracted by the way he licks a gob of icing off his thumb.
“Taste buds,” Tyra says dryly. “Because the cancer thing just wasn’t that compelling?”
I decide I like her.
“Thanks for the cupcakes, Ty,” Monroe says, his teeth already turning a pale shade of blue. “I owe you an oil change. Just bring it by before Thursday.”
“Cool. You hitting the road after that?” she asks.
“Yep. Three months. Try not to slit your wrists from the grief of missing me.”
She sniffs. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
I want to ask questions, participate in the conversation. But I feel a little on the outside looking in right now. So I bite into my cupcake. I can’t keep the groan of pleasure from escaping, though.
Tyra’s face lights up. “You like?”
My mouth is full but I manage a garbled, “Ohmigod.”
“Look at that, the girl has good taste, despite her questionable choice in men.” Tyra gives Monroe a pointed look.
“Hey,” he says, putting his hands out, affronted. “I’m a good guy.”
She taps the spot in front of me with her palm. “Have fun tonight, sugar. Remember, birthdays are like trips to Vegas. Whatever happens doesn’t go on your permanent record.”
I laugh. “Did he pay you to say that?”
“Didn’t have to. I saw that kiss.”
With that, she strolls off, leaving me blushing all over again.
Monroe leans onto his elbows and smiles. “Ready for alcohol now?”
“God, yes.”
Chapter 5
Natalie
I stare out at the smooth surface of the lake, leaning back on my elbows and soaking in the view. I’m still a little buzzed from the big-ass margarita I had at the bar we walked to after the cupcakes, but the fresh air feels good and the park is quiet. I’m feeling more relaxed than I have all night. I turn on my side.
Monroe is on his back in the grass, looking up at the stars. His eyes are half-mast, and I realize it’s two in the morning and I’m keeping him up after what was probably a long day at work. “You can go home, you know.”
“Don’t try to bail on me now, princess,” he says, his voice sleep-soft. “We’ve still got four hours left until sunrise.”
“You’re not going to make it four minutes.”
“Talk to me then. Keep me awake. Dance, monkey, dance.”