“It’s Lola Delgado.” I suddenly feel the urge to prove him wrong. “Exactly what I told you at the bar. I’m not a liar.”
He eyes me skeptically. “You gave me the wrong number.”
“Believe me or don’t. I don’t care either way.”
“It’s just hard to trust the Princess of Darkness.”
“Is Silas your real name?”
“Sure is. You see, I’m an honest person.”
Georgia laughs. “I think this guy might actually give Lola a run for her money. That’s a first.”
“You know …” Silas says, obnoxiously smiling while ignoring everyone else—even Noah zooming around the yard, his arms in the air, proclaiming to be an airplane. “If your goal is to make your ex jealous, I have better ways of doing so.”
“Perfect!” I exclaim with overemphasized enthusiasm. “Let me give you his address. I forgot my favorite sweater there and would love to get it back. It’s black … super cute. Would you mind grabbing it for me? It was pretty expensive.”
“Black sweater. Got it. Anything else? Your anger management books? Nice pills? A way to remove the stick up your ass?”
Oh, wow, he definitely deserves a busted kneecap.
As bad as it sounds, arguing with him is fun. It’s nice to talk to someone with a similar sense of humor.
I rest my elbows on the arms of the chair. “If it makes you feel any better, my ex called and yelled at me.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t give two fucks about your ex. He probably deserved it. You should’ve just pulled that game on another guy and given me the real one because I’m much more deserving.”
“I’m not sleeping with you … if that’s what you think you’re deserving of.”
He snorts. “My wanting to sleep with you and the offer to do so are gone. Knowing you, you’d go all praying mantis on me and bite my head off afterward … or Lorena Bobbitt me.”
Chapter Three
Silas
“Food is ready!” Cohen shouts, interrupting my discussion with Lola.
My stomach growls, but I couldn’t give two shits about a cheeseburger. I’d rather keep talking to Lola and learn the hints she provides about herself between the sarcasm and insults. I’ve never had so much interest in someone before. It scares yet excites me that for the first time in years, that sense of craving to know someone has returned.
If Lola hadn’t attended, I’m not sure I would’ve come today. Even though I have endless acquaintances, I don’t have many people I consider good friends. I keep people at a distance, which usually surprises others because I’m a jokester and easy to talk to.
Lola and I are the last people to rise and make our way to the picnic table covered with food—burgers, hot dogs, chips, a large chopped salad, and desserts out the ass. Lola goes first, placing a burger onto her plate—no bun and instead wrapped in lettuce. She grabs a bag of barbecue chips and scoops a beer from the cooler. I do the same, copying her selections but choose a water instead of beer.
Georgia snorts when she glances from Lola’s plate to mine. “I see the both of you are current bread haters.”
Lola peeks at my plate and blows out a noisy breath. “Really?”
“I wondered why you were copying my meal.” I smirk before bringing the burger to my lips and biting off a chunk.
She rolls her eyes and reaches toward my plate.
Uncertain of her next move, I swiftly slide it out of her reach. “Nuh-uh. I don’t trust you around my food.”
She rolls those wide brown eyes. “Oh God, are you going to make a comment like that every time we’re around each other?”
“Are you saying we’ll see each other again? An invite? Do I get to go to your birthday party?”
“As long as you bring an amazing gift.”
“Noted. When is your birthday?”
“June twenty-third. The best day of the year.”
I drop my burger, the fear of that one bite making its way back up my stomach, and a chill runs through me.
“What?” She blinks, cocking her head. “Is that your birthday too?”
“Nah.” I shake my head while also hoping to shake away the memories. I clear my throat before continuing, “I tend to steer clear of Cancers. They’re usually trouble.”
“Look at you, a man who knows his horoscopes.”
I nod, hating that while it’s a good day for her, it’s fucking tainted for me.
Maybe that’s a sign Lola isn’t the best person to be around.
All she’d be is a reminder of my past.
“Dad! My hot dog is all gone!” Noah yells from the kiddie table inches from us, intruding my grim thoughts. “Time for a yummy cupcake!”
“Really?” Cohen replies, staring at the ground.
I follow Cohen’s gaze and see Noah’s hot dog, now covered with grass, next to the table.
“He technically isn’t lying,” Georgia says.
“No, he is lying,” Cohen says, his voice stern and parent-like. “What did I tell you about fibbing, Noah?”
“That it’ll make my tongue fall out,” Noah replies with a frown before sticking out his tongue. His eyes grow wide. “Oh no! Is it going to fall out? I can’t eat any cupcakes then!”
Lola shifts in her chair to look at Noah. “You get three lies before it does. So, you’d better choose them wisely.”
“Really, Lola?” Cohen asks.
“What?” She shrugs. “The kid is going to know you’re lying if it doesn’t fall out now. I’m actually saving your ass.”
“Aunt Lola said ass!” Noah says, pointing at her.
“Listen, kid, I was just sticking up for you,” Lola replies before dramatically staring up at the sky. “God, take the boy’s tongue away.”
Noah smacks his hand over his mouth. “No!”
Cohen stands. “I’m going to make you another hot dog. You eat it or no cupcakes for a week.”
“Fine,” Noah mutters, crossing his arms and pouting.
“Cancers also have a potty mouth,” I whisper to Lola, leaning into her. “I wonder what else that mouth does.”
“Talks shit.” She grabs a chip and nibbles at the edge of it. “Eats guys like you for breakfast.”
My thoughts of her birthday crumble as we return to our game of jest.
“Looks like no cupcakes for you either, liar.” I smirk. “Are you going to return the question and ask what my mouth does?”
She grins wildly. “Fails to give women orgasms?”
I slide my finger over my bottom lip. “Too bad for you, you’ll never get the luxury of finding that out.”
“And too bad for you, you’ll never get the luxury of going anywhere near my vagina.”
“I didn’t know demons had vaginas.”
Her smile doesn’t falter. It only grows.
“You two do know my kid repeats everything he hears?” Cohen interjects, spoiling our fun. “The less he hears the word, the better.”
It seems anytime Lola and I get wrapped up in conversation, everyone around us fades.