thirty-seven celebratory drinks too many.”
“You did it right then. I’m excited to finally be able to go to a match myself now that I’m home.”
“That’s right,” she says. “Rafa was telling us you’ve been traveling for business. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
My pulse leaps. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. So Maddie doesn’t know who I am—who I was over the past year.
She’s just a cute girl trying to get some action from a dude at a bar on a Saturday night.
The relief I feel, mingled with a hint of excitement, makes me almost giddy. She appreciates my ass not because it belongs to a (slightly) famous guitarist, but because it’s apparently delicious. This is the first time I’ve talked to a girl who wasn’t out to bang a rock star, any rock star, in forever.
Not that there will be any banging involved. Maddie is sexy as hell, yeah, but I’m not into that sort of thing anymore. I’m ready to settle down, make a home with a novia—girlfriend—here in Madrid. A girlfriend I did not meet, drunk, at a discoteca.
“I’m in the music industry,” I say.
“That’s cool,” she says. She holds up her nearly empty glass and arches a brow. “Want another? This round’s my treat.”
I look down at my gin and tonic. I promised myself I’d only have one—I’m hoping to fly tomorrow—but suddenly I feel as thirsty as Maddie looks.
“I’ll have another,” I say, “but only if I’m buying. You’re in my city, guapa. My treat.”
“Guapa .” She looks at me. “Pretty?”
“It means beautiful girl.”
She smirks. “That’s laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”
“What would you prefer I call you?”
She’s standing in front of me now, her bottom lip stuck distractingly between her teeth. I step toward her. She mirrors my move, angling her neck to look up at me. That neck . I resist the urge lean in, put my mouth on the place where the soft shell of her ear curves into the sinews of her throat.
I wince at the tight warmth that pulses between my legs. Stop. Seriously stop.
“You okay?” Maddie asks, furrowing her brow.
“Yes. Yeah.” I put my hand on the small of her back, nudging her toward the bar. “Let’s go get those drinks.”
“Oh? And Javier?” she says over her shoulder, eyes flashing. “You can call me whatever you like.”
I grin down at her. “Now isn’t that laying it on a little thick?”
She shrugs. She’s biting her lip again.
Stop .
It would be easier to stop if Maddie wasn’t so damn sexy.
***
A few hours and many more drinks later, Maddie and I collapse in a sweaty heap on a white pleather sofa by the bar.
“For someone old enough to be an uncle,” she pants, “you’re one hell of a dirty dancer, Javier.”
“Thank you,” I reply, smiling. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Oh, God, you and I both know I’m a horrible dancer. Like, horrible. But it’s sweet of you to pretend I’m not.”
My smile widens. Maddie can be charming when she isn’t trying so hard to be sexy.
“You’re not that bad,” I say.
She pins me with a look. “I am too that bad. I’m even worse. Vivian says I dance like a mom who gets drunk at her niece’s wedding and thinks she got her groove back.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s very…specific.”
“And very true.”
“No-o it’s not?” I try.
Vivian looks at me again. We both burst into laughter.
“You’re cute,” she says.
“You’re funny,” I say.
She sidles up next to me on the sofa to make room for another couple. Before I can think better of it, I move my arm to rest on the back of the sofa behind her, inviting Maddie to curl even closer against me. She does.
I shift my hips, crossing one leg over the other. I’ve had a raging hard-on from the moment we stepped onto the dance floor, and the way she smells isn’t helping. Drunk-mom dancing or no, I saw stars when Maddie pressed her ass into my groin and