“Can you do me a favor?”
I quirk a brow.
“I can’t be this fullandhorny. Can you put your dress back on? Maybe a paper bag over your head while you’re at it too?”
My jaw almost hits the sand.
“Are you—is that—are you joking with me or…”
He lowers his head to the plastic table and starts banging his head softly against it.
Did he really just say that? What the hell did they put in his food?
I walk over to him and smack the back of his head. “What has gotten into you?”
“Blame Maria. I’m in a food coma. I can’t think straight. Give me a couple of minutes.” He looks up at me. “Unless you want to stick around and see a second showing of my… biological reactions.”
“Antonio Manuel Nuñez! You did not just get a boner over bistec and boobies!”
He releases a pained laugh. “I’ll get it under control. You just need to go… somewhere else. Or would you be okay with me burying you in the sand?”
I still don’t know whether he’s joking or flat-out saying that he’s attracted to me. So I do what any other frazzled woman would do in this moment. I grab another rum and coke—yes, I’m double-fisting—and hurry off toward the water. I find the perfect sitting position where the ocean water gently laps at my waist, then take a sip of my drink and try to relax.
From where I’m sitting, I can see Tony chatting with the cooking staff, probably thanking them for the millionth time for the perfect meal. He catches me staring at him, and instead of giving me his usual scowl, the man does the unimaginable.
He winks at me.
Fucking winks.
Had I not been in the water, the wetness between my legs might have been instantly noticeable. How does he do that? Hold the ability to turn my insides into Jell-O by just giving me his attention?
I should really address that during my next therapy session, because these psychosomatic symptoms are not my norm when it comes to men.
But Tony is clearly like no other man. He’s in a league of his own.
He picks up another Presidente beer as he makes his way toward me, but he stops abruptly. The music has changed from bachata to pop, and “Shower” by Becky G is now playing.
I remember singing this song repeatedly when it came out, and always jamming to it with Amelia, especially during family gatherings when the cousin crew was around. Yet imagine my surprise when Antonio locks eyes with me and starts dancing to it.
This mountain of a man, dancing to Becky G. And because he clearly does nothing half-assed, he starts singing the lyrics too. More like butchering the lyrics while singing off key, but he’s giving the tour crew and me a show, nonetheless.
I bite on my plastic cup to try and stop myself from laughing uncontrollably, but it’s pointless once he starts trying, and failing, to make his pectoral muscles bounce.
He pulls Maria into the dance, and she eagerly joins him. The dance turns into a mix of merengue and swing dancing, all while he keeps his smiling gaze on me.
I’ve never seen this side of Tony. This unbashful, playful side. I would have never fathomed seeing this man dancing with strangers with the biggest grin on his face. It makes me wonder what else he’s capable of.
The song ends, and Tony bows to Maria, while she claps her outstretched hands in his direction.
He snatches a water bottle from the buffet table before he makes his way toward me. I couldn’t swipe the grin off my face even if I tried, and to be honest, I’m not trying.
Tony settles in the spot next to me, exhaling loudly as the cool water washes over his lower body. He takes a sip of his water before asking, “You like my little performance back there?”
I nod. “I never knew that was possible.”
“What? You didn’t know I had moves like that?” He tsks.
I shake my head. “No, I meant I never knew you’d be able to let loose like that. Putting on a show for everyone.”
