Trinity touched my face. “The beard, long hair and man bun thing aren’t new either?”
“No.” I watched her eyes as she stroked my beard—her tentative touch sent a jolt of heat through my body. As much as I wanted more, now wasn’t the time. I turned my head to kiss the inside of her wrist, breaking the connection. “We should go.”
“You aren’t like any of the guys I usually date.”
Hard not to bristle up at that.
Then she twined her arms around my neck, pressing her lips to mine briefly. “I meant that in a good way, so lose the scowl.”
“I’m not scowling, Trinity.”
“Prove it. Kiss me.”
Tempting, to dive in and kiss her until we were both panting as our bodies were plastered together, seeking to sate this growing ache. But making out and grinding on her in the front yard . . . we were a little too old for that. I softly kissed the right side of her mouth, then the left. “We’ll pick this up later, okay?”
“Okay.” She ducked under my arm and walked to the pickup.
Once we were on our way, I said, “Tell me about your friends. How you met, all that jazz.”
“Ramon and I met at an artists’ co-op after I first moved here. He also runs a food truck business. When he had last-minute problems airbrushing the graphic designs on his truck, he asked for my help.”
“He didn’t know how to do it?”
She adjusted the seat belt and straightened her dress. “Ramon’s got a Master’s in Fine Arts, so he’s one of those guys who thinks ‘How hard can it be?’ and discovers it’s way harder than it looks.”
“I deal with that mind-set all the time in the construction business.”
“I’ll bet. I’m fairly adept at airbrushing, so I finished it. Ramon was so grateful he threw a party and introduced me to a bunch of people in the art community, which was nice because I’d only been in town six months.”
“But you’re a Minnesota native, right?”
Trinity nodded. “When I was eleven my dad got a job on the East Coast. I lived there until I went to college. After graduation from art school, I traveled all over the country, trying to find my niche in the art world.” She sent me a sideways glance. “I’m still looking a dozen years later.”
“Do your parents still live on the East Coast?”
“No. My dad and stepmonster”—she flashed me a sheepish look—“stepmother returned to our hometown. And before you ask, I don’t see them. They weren’t on board with my decision to make my living as an artist.”
“That sucks. Even when I opted not to join the family business, my family was pretty supportive.”
“You’ve mentioned your family a lot. I take it you’re close to them?”
“Very. Not just my brothers and sister but my cousins too. Growing up, we lived close to each other. Now we still hang out when we have time.” So far Trinity hadn’t asked questions about what business my family was in. The Lund name was well known in the Twin Cities—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out with a woman who didn’t have a clue about my family’s wealth or connections. I wished I could keep it under wraps a little longer; I liked that Trinity was getting to know me, not a guy with a fat bank account.
“You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted that connection. Maybe even to the point I’ve tried to force it with friends, believing the ‘You choose your own family’ saying.”
I shot her a sideways glance. “So these friends I’m meeting tonight? They’re like your family?”
“I guess.”
“You . . . guess?”
“It’s complicated.” She sighed. “There’s a rift between Ramon and Genevieve and I’m caught in the middle. I know about the cyclical nature of friendships in theory, except in reality it’s hard to say, See ya—this isn’t working for me anymore.”
“You don’t get that option with family. For better or for worse, you’re stuck with them.”
“That’s equally scary.” At the stop sign she said, “Take the next left. It’s the last condo on the right.”
This community defined bland suburb. Each cookie-cutter structure had some variation of maintenance-free siding in a shade of tan or gray. Narrow sidewalks separated artfully kept lawns. If someone blindfolded me and dropped me in the middle of the street, I’d be hard-pressed to pinpoint my location since this area was identical to a dozen residential areas across the city.
I parallel parked behind a Prius. “I’ll get the cooler.”
As we stood on the sidewalk facing the condo, I said, “Which one?”
“They own both units. They live in one side and Ramon uses the other side for his studio and runs his food truck business from there. The party is on the patio out back.”
I was so busy watching the soft sway of her ass that I almost clipped a solar light at the edge of the sidewalk. That’d be my luck—to face-plant and embarrass myself and Trinity first thing.
She opened the gate. “Just set it down anywhere back there. One of Ramon’s server minions will take care of it.”
I lowered the cooler to the grass. When I turned around, I expected Trinity’s focus would be on her friends across the yard. But her gaze was on me. “What?”
Almost absentmindedly, she traced my biceps from the ball of my shoulder to the outside of my elbow. “I’m fascinated by the way your muscles flex and flow in your back and arms. I’d love to try to capture the movement on paper.”
I slid one hand around her hip to the small of her back, pulling her closer as I brushed my mouth across her ear. “You keep saying that, yet you’ve never officially asked me to take off my shirt and flex for you.”
“Clichéd. I’m more original than that.”
When Trinity stared at me another long moment, I murmured, “What’s going on in that creative head of yours?”
“Don’t tell my friends about the kiss and the wrong name and number thing when we first met, okay? It’ll just be another thing they’ll tease me about endlessly.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” I’d started to get a bad vibe about these friends of hers before I even met them. I leaned in to nibble on that lip she was biting when someone behind us shouted her name.
Startled, she stepped back and spun around.
A stocky Hispanic man hustled over. He wore a black chef’s jacket and pants. I guessed his age to be around forty—even though his 1980s Erik Estrada hairstyle suggested otherwise. He kissed both of Trinity’s cheeks. “Hiya, sugar lump. Are you arriving fashionably late now?”
“No. I just had a busy day.”
“Apparently too busy to call and let me know you were bringing a guest,” Ramon said, ignoring me completely.
“You always say the more the merrier, so I knew you wouldn’t mind.” Her smile looked strained. “Besides, he’s not just any guest. He’s my boyfriend. Ramon, meet Walker.”
“Boyfriend?” he repeated. That’s when he scrutinized me.
I kept my left hand pressed in the small of her back as I offered him my right. “Pleased to meet you, Ramon.”
He shook my hand without comment and addressed Trinity. “Davina will just have to deal with an uneven number of dinner guests at the table.”
“If seating is a problem, I can always sit on Walker’s lap,” she retorted.
I chuckled. “I’m good with that.”
“I’ll just bet you are. But I am not.”
Wow. No animosity there.
Ramon leaned in and peered at Trinity’s face. His gaze dropped to her cleavage. “Please tell me you didn’t take your last lamebrained boyfriend’s advice and start fake baking in a tanning bed?”
My eyes narrowed. This guy was supposed to be her friend and he said shit like that to her?
“It’s a real tan. Walker took me to the lake last weekend.”
“Must be nice not to be so swamped with work that you can’t take a day off,” he said with a sniff. “I spent all day and most of Sunday night in the studio fine-tuning a piece fo
r the Chanhassen art show next month.” He cocked his head. “What are you entering?”
“Nothing. Between the new commission piece and finishing the sets at the community center—”
“Excuses. If you fill all your hours with things”—he spared me a dark look—“that aren’t worthy of your time, you’re settling for less than you deserve.”
This dude deserved a bloody lip for that superior remark.
Trinity placed her hand on my chest. “Would you grab us a beer?”
“Sure.”
I meandered across the yard and opened the cooler. I took out two bottles of Corona Light and glanced over at Trinity. She was in Ramon’s face and gesturing wildly. Ramon didn’t appear cowed. But he wasn’t participating in the conversation either.
“She’s really pissed off at him this time,” a voice said behind me.
“Do they do this a lot?”
“No. Usually Trinity backs down. She hates conflict.”
That made sense from what I’d seen of her.
“I’m glad to see her pushing back. This has been building for a while.” A Hispanic man, roughly the same age as Ramon, moved in front of me. “I’m Miguel. Ramon’s partner in the food truck business.”
I shook his hand. “I’m Walker.”
“Fair warning—if Trinity doesn’t get Ramon to back off, you’re in for a bumpy night.” Miguel handed me a bottle opener. “Keep it close by. You’ll need it.”
A tall, thin woman wearing an ugly plaid golfing skirt and a screaming yellow polo shirt stomped outside. She skidded to a stop next to Ramon and screeched, “The peppers are burning!”
Ramon turned and raced into the house.
I crossed the lawn, reaching Trinity before the screecher did. “You all right?”
She shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“This’ll help.” I popped the cap off the beer and handed it to her.
“Thanks.”
The plaid-clad woman stopped in front of Trinity and did the air-kiss-on-both-cheeks thing. “Darling. I’m so glad you could make it. I was about to ask what you’d done to upset Ramon”—she sent me a pointed glance—“but now it’s perfectly obvious.” Smiling, she offered her hand. “I’m Davina. Ramon’s more civilized half.”
“Walker.”
“Well, Walker. Your presence has caused quite a stir.”
Did she expect me to apologize? Or Trinity to apologize?
Trinity rolled her eyes. “It’s good to mix things up once in a while.”
“Right you are.” Davina’s gaze winged between us. “Let’s head to the patio so you can introduce your date to the rest of the guests.”
Davina disappeared around an eight-foot-tall hedge.
Trinity moved closer when I placed my palm in the small of her back.
“Sorry. We should’ve gone out just the two of us, like you suggested. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“I’m a big boy. I can fight my own battles. I won’t fight yours, but neither will I stand back and watch Ramon—or anyone else—be an ass to you.”
“You’ll protect my honor?”
“Damn straight.”
We stepped onto a brick-paved path that led to a covered patio.
A long table, decorated with brightly colored dishware, had been centered beneath a string of Japanese paper lanterns. A bar took up the opposite corner. Someone had already placed the beer we’d brought in a metal tub filled with ice. Soft jazz drifted from someplace.
Several people—men mostly—lounged in oversized furniture.
Trinity muttered, “Great.”
“What?”
Before she could answer, Davina clapped her hands.
All eyes swiveled to her.
“Everyone, this is Walker, Trinity’s date for this evening. Feel free to mingle. The food will be done in ten . . . or longer if the chef isn’t finished with his temper tantrum.” She flounced off.
Only one person from the group rose to greet us. After he gave Trinity an overly familiar hug, I wished he would’ve stayed put.
“Trinity. You look as beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you, Esteban.”
“Ramon said I’d have you all to myself tonight so we could catch up.” He tried to intimidate me with a narrow-eyed glare.
“Esteban, is it?” I said with a “Back the fuck off” stare as I thrust out my hand. “I’m Walker.”
“Interesting name,” he said while squeezing my hand with excessive force. “You any relation to them?”
“Them who?”
He rolled his eyes. “The Walker family—namesake of the Walker Art Center?” He paused. “Please tell me you’ve at least heard of it.”
Was this guy for real? “I’ve heard of it.”
“I’ve been there dozens of times. I know Trinity has too.” He offered her a sly smile. “But it wasn’t until you and I went to that exhibit last fall that I grasped the subtleties in style that only an artist can explain with knowledge and passion. I never considered an artist’s temperament played no part in the creative process. How much you have to get outside yourself and push boundaries.”
Trinity slipped her arm around my waist. “Speaking of temperament . . . maybe you should check on Ramon.”
“Davina can handle him. I did my time in Ramon’s kitchen.”
“Are you in the food truck business with him?” I asked.
He looked aghast, as if I’d said something idiotic. “God no. I went to college specifically to escape life in the food service industry.”
The smug little prick wanted me to ask him what he did for a living. So I didn’t. “Good for you.”
“We’ll catch up with you later,” Trinity said and nudged me away. She didn’t stop moving until we were at the bar and she positioned herself in front of me.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Placing her hand on my cheek, she stroked my jawline with her thumb. “Esteban is Ramon’s brother. Ramon has been trying to set us up for a while.”
“Esteban seems on board with that.”
“I’m not on board with it, Walker. I never have been.”
A thought occurred to me. “Is that why you dragged me along tonight? Because he would be here? Am I being used as a shit-stirrer to ‘mix things up’?”
She shook her head.
“Am I just a buffer between you and Esteban?”
“No!”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She rifled her fingers through my beard, gathered a small section between her thumb and forefinger, and tugged on it. Hard.
Fuck. That hurt.
“No games between us, Walker. Yes, I knew Esteban would be here, but I didn’t bring you to antagonize him.”
“Did you bring me to antagonize Ramon?”
“No.”
“Then why did you bring me, Trinity?”
“Because I wanted to spend time with you . . . but I didn’t want to assume we’d do something tonight since we hadn’t spoken much this week. So when Ramon invited me to the dinner party, I said yes without thinking.”
“Babe. It’s safe to assume if I haven’t seen or talked to you