Quirks & Kinks Read Free

eyes.
    “Granted, it’s not a job you’re exactly thrilled about, but it comes with money, and that’s worth celebrating a little.”
    “Pff,” I huffed. “So far, all it’s come with is a bag of muffin mix and humiliation.” Exaggeratedly, I checked my purse. “Nope, no money.”
    Ashley just shook her head. “We’re eating one dollar tacos. Peanut butter and bread are more expensive. Relax.”
    My fingers itched for a cigarette, and astute twenty-three year old lady that she was, Ashley didn’t miss it.
    “Besides, if we’re going to get on the money discussion, you’re going to have to take a closer look at some of your other expensive habits.”
    Ashley had been trying to talk me into quitting for years, and I knew my lungs would thank me if I somehow managed to follow through. But as desirable as it sounded, I just . . . couldn’t. It wasn’t so much the addiction and the work it would take to kick a years-in-the-making habit. It was that smoking had become my emotional crutch. My timeout in any moment of need and my excuse to busy myself with something other than being a bitch. I was scared of the chasm I’d fall into, the inescapable hole I’d create with my auger-like anxiety without it.
    My sister didn’t know any of that. No one did.
    “I smoke for my career.”
    Her eyes practically rolled all the way out of her head. “This ought to be good.”
    “You know this industry is unbelievably vapid, and vapid means skinny. Smoking keeps me that way.”
    She shook her head in disdain.
    “And it’s cheaper than a gym membership.”
    “Global warming, anyone?” she called dramatically. “You’re argument is balancing on some pretty thin ice.”
    “Shut up,” I poked, shoving her in her petite, narrow shoulder with our usual sibling playfulness.
    Suddenly, warmth wafted up into my face as our waiter shoved the toasty basket of complimentary chips into the center of our table. My eyes drifted naturally from the basket to the hand holding it, where a large, oval, heavy metal ring sat in blazing contrast to the tan expanse of his long ring finger, up the line of his muscular— deliciously veiny—forearm, to the cuff of his rolled up black sleeve. On a runaway mission of their own, my eyes wouldn’t stop, eating up the expanse of his bicep in an instant, stutter-stepping up the corded column of his slender throat, and landing on one of the most attractive male mugs I’ve ever seen.
    A mixing bowl of ethnicity, his naturally tanned skin and dark features stood in stark contrast with the minty green of his eyes. Directly on me and smirking, they were mesmerizing.
    And mocking.
    Ashley spoke, as I’d apparently lost all of my normal snarky ability.
    “Thanks.”
    A small glance from me to her preceded his polite answer. “You’re welcome.”
    She smiled her prettiest smile, the one that infused her entire being from chest to eyes, and the corner of his mouth notched higher in response.
    A foreign heaviness settled in my chest as I watched, and its completely unwelcome presence nearly made me sick.
    He turned to leave slowly, one last lingering look in my direction making my nerves ratchet up to an eleven.
    Fuck. I did not like to be rattled. Confident words were my modus operandi, but a good earthquake could wreck even the strongest of routines. My table at El Loco, tonight—this guy —was the epicenter.
    The man in question had just earned himself automatic placement on my shit list.
    Straight, white, top teeth just barely teased the plump pillow of his bottom lip. It was unintentional, completely innocent, and hot as Jesus’ sauna.
    Shit list position confirmed.
    “You’re, like, really attractive,” Ashley noted, evidently drunk on her water and speaking via a direct link to my brain.
    His chuckle was like a full body vibrator, skating through the nerves on every inch of my skin. One long-fingered hand shot straight to his neck, rubbing the uneasiness of Ashley’s compliment out