Tomas sauntered over with a lazy gait. “Well, well, Talia Jackson is here.” He peered out at the sky. “No. No pigs are flying.” His accented voice had a low, husky appeal and reminded her of the actor/model William Levy.
They seldom spoke, but whenever they did, he always had something smart alecky to say. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what she’d done to make him pick on her all the time. Probably because he was an arrogant misogynist and she had no qualms about calling him on it. Fortunately she knew how to dish it as well as he did.
“Oh look, another T-shirt. What a surprise.”
He apparently never met a T-shirt he didn’t want to own, and his wardrobe consisted of them in all kinds of colors. He wore them so tight they banded around his big biceps and molded to the contours of his muscular chest.
Unfazed, he responded, “You notice what I wear? I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
He folded his arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m surprised you came.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here for my friends’ housewarming party?”
He shrugged. “You’re such a busy woman. You hardly ever hang out, and every year Shawna invites you to my Memorial Day picnic but you’re always too busy.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re disappointed that I don’t come.” She lifted the aluminum foil on different containers to find something else to eat. When she found baked chicken, she added a leg to her plate. “Tell you what, I’ll come this year so you won’t feel so neglected.”
“I like it better that you don’t,” he said.
“Riiight.” She smirked at him and added corn on the cob to her plate.
She felt his gaze on her, and a prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck. He had a way of looking at women as if he were undressing them with his eyes. She didn’t know if he did it on purpose or not, but it made her feel uncomfortable and stripped bare in his presence.
“We should call a truce,” he said.
“Are we at war?”
He chuckled. “You always have an answer, don’t you? No, we’re not at war. At least, I don’t want to be. We should try being friends since our best friends are married to each other.”
“That would be boring, wouldn’t it, if we got along well?”
“So you like fighting with me, is that it?”
Did she? Their sparring matches often left her buzzing with energy afterward.
“Even if I do, you like it way more than I do. You’re always the one who gets it started, like you did a minute ago.”
“Only because you need it.”
“Need it? You have to explain what you mean.”
“You’re one of those women who can get out of hand, so I have to keep you grounded. You have a . . . como se dice? Oh, I remember.” He snapped his fingers. “You have a Napoleon complex.”
She shot him her Are you for real? look. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes, you do. It’s because you’re so short.” He sliced his hand horizontally from his chin over the top of her head. “See?”
Talia stood up straighter, as if she could grow taller by sheer will power. “I do not have a Napoleon complex, and anyway, I’m pretty sure it only applies to men.”
He looked amused. “No, I’m sure it applies to women, too. I have a perfect example standing in front of me. How’s the weather down there?”
She cut her eyes at him and continued searching for food.
“No response? I’m so disappointed.”
“I’m ignoring you for the rest of the day.”
“This is a first. I silenced Talia Jackson all by myself, and I didn’t need to tape her mouth. I have to tell Ryan.” He picked up a piece of baked chicken with his hand.
“There are tongs.” Talia held up a set for him to see.
“We called a truce, remember?” He bit into the chicken and winked.