shining disaster

As the sun casts its golden rays over the quiet outskirts of town, a grim discovery awaits the two men. The body of Jessica Valdez, the young girl reported missing from their neighboring town, lies lifeless in a shallow ditch. Javier stands beside Sheriff Leighton, their expressions grave as they survey the scene before them.

Reporters and curious onlookers have gathered, drawn by the spectacle of flashing lights and the somber atmosphere. A small group of people whisper amongst themselves, their hushed tones mingling with the distant sound of camera shutters clicking.

Romeo’s authoritative presence looms beside him, a pillar of strength in the face of another tragedy. His eyes narrow as they push through the gathered crowd, commanding respect and order in the chaotic scene.

They duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape, ignoring the questions being hurled at them by the press.

“Are there any indications of a motive for this murder?” 

“Is this connected to the similar incidents in the area recently?”

“Is there anything the public can do to assist with the investigation?”

Javier’s stomach churns with sorrow as he takes in the sight. The body lies face down and sprawled in the dirt. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself against the wave of frustration threatening to overwhelm him.

Another failure on their behalf and all he can think about is the kiss shared between him and Paloma.

“Talk to us, Cecelia.” 

“Well, at first glance: the body is still fairly warm so she was alive a few hours ago. It looks like she was held captive somewhere due to the bruising on her wrists and ankles. There are signs of malnourishment and she has smaller injuries scattered throughout her body. I won’t know more details until I do the autopsy.” The coroner answers before continuing,” Her chest is completely slashed through, just like all the others. Still our guy. Or girl–– you never know nowadays.” 

Javier’s jaw flexes out of exasperation, mirroring the heavy sigh that escapes the sheriff’s lips. The weight of this repeated revelation settles over them like a suffocating blanket, casting a shadow over their efforts to uncover the truth.

Despite their tireless pursuit of justice, they find themselves no closer to catching the culprit or unraveling the mystery shrouding these towns. It’s fucking infuriating. 

Amidst the tangled threads of his personal life, Javier has momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being here. He has been too immersed in his own character transformation and entanglement with Paloma, overlooking the harrowing reality unfolding around him: innocent women continuing to fall victim to brutal, senseless violence.

The gravity of his oversight has a mixture of guilt and despair settling deep within his chest. 

Javier prides himself on his prowess, his ability to navigate the most intricate of cases and weather the toughest of storms. As a seasoned field agent with a string of accolades to his name (some undeserved, others very well deserved), he’s faced down challenges that would make others quiver.

Yet here he stands, feeling utterly impotent in the face of this whodunit in the confines of a sleepy town.

It gnaws at him, this sense of inadequacy, like a persistent itch he can’t scratch. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a humbling reminder of the unpredictable nature of crime and the limits of his own expertise.

He needs to be better.

“What’s interestin’, though, is this,” She stands, motioning for the two men to follow her and they share a look before wordlessly complying. Cecelia hands them both a pair of latex gloves, instructing them to put them on.

They make it a few feet away from Jessica’s body and that’s when Javi sees it.

“Is that vomit?” 

Cecelia nods, “It is. I’m betting it’s hers. The interestin’ bit isn’t that she vomited–– but the contents. Take a look. Tell me what you see.” 

Javier is the first to kneel with Romeo looking over his shoulder. He eyes the evidence, pushing his aviators to the top of his head, making out the larger chunks in the grossly colored bile.

He can’t discern what it is right away and Cecelia encourages him to use his hands, which has him looking at her ludicrously and muttering how gross this shit is in Spanish before doing as suggested.

Poking his latex clad fingers in the mess, Javi analyzes the contents and that’s when he sees a symbol marked in ink on one of the scraps.

“It’s flesh. Human flesh.” 

Shit. He sees it now, the mark is a tattoo and he quickly barks out an order to have one of the lingering deputies come take pictures of it.

“Son of a bitch is feedin’ people… people. Would explain Nina Thorton’s missin’ leg. What the fuck is goin’ on here?” The sheriff sounds defeated and Javier just remains silent as he mulls over all this new information that’s been revealed.

Kidnapped, held hostage, fed human flesh, murdered, dumped.

All the other victims up until now have only been taken then killed. None of them held captive for long. Not all of them consuming flesh.

But then there’s Nina and her postmortem severed leg.

Fuck, the answer is right there, interwoven in the intricacies and lack of details in the cases. 

No more fucking around, no more helping girls sneak back inside their homes, no more distractions. He has to focus on doing his job.

He will catch who did this, he will prove himself to be qualified to do what he was brought here to do.

Javier remains kneeled and deep in thought as Romeo and Cecelia continue on with their observations. He looks around to study their surroundings, wondering if there is anything else that is right in front of him that he cannot see.

“Three outta five have been brunettes around the same age. I think that’s something worth considering now,” Javier breaks up the conversation betweens the sheriff and coroner, both of them turning to look at him as he stands from his kneeled position and begins to take off the gloves,” Seems like they found their type. There’s got to be a purpose for the consistent victimology.” 

They’ve migrated over to Jessica’s body now, both men doing last minute look overs before she is transported back to her hometown for her parents to identify and for Cecelia to preform the autopsy.

When a deputy comes over to take the last bits of photo evidence, he looks sickly but Javier ignores it. It’s not until her body is turned upright, exposing her mauled chest, that has the younger officer hurling over and throwing up, some of it landing on Romeo.

“God fuckin’ damn it, Andrews, spew that shit elsewhere. Fuck, not only are you contaminatin’ the crime scene but you got it all over my damn pants.” 

The sheriff goes on a tangent, chewing the officer out and threatening to suspend him for two weeks with no pay. It’s harsh, Javier will admit, but he doesn’t say anything, remaining stoic with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches it unfold.

Eventually, everyone trickles out. Even the nosey reporters and townies. Javier wants to stay, walk around the area to see if anything else was left behind. Maybe something was dropped or buried nearby, and while they had assured him that others have already done a thorough search–– he’d feel more comfortable if he did it himself.

“Ya mind stoppin’ by my place so I can change? Kid ruined these.” Romeo’s gruff voice has Javier losing his train of thought, too engrossed in looking out into the vast area of the woods as the sun slowly begins to set. 

Right, they arrived together, driving from the station in Javier’s cruiser.

“Sure.” He replies plainly. His plans for the evening now include getting Romeo situated so that he can come back here and investigate all on his own. He might even drive to Fayette to retrieve the autopsy from Cecelia as soon as she completes it.

With the Leighton home being on the other side of town, this gives the two men time to talk the case over; going over all that they know and all that they’ve discovered. Romeo confides in Javier about feeling inadequate about the way he’s doing his job and, in a turn of events, Javier does the same. In his own way.

The mutual understanding is a relief, though the guilt of his kiss with Paloma is palpable and it makes Javi feel like a fraud.

Across from him is a man who has extended nothing but kindness and trust, offering camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Yet, despite this, Javier found himself drawn to his daughter in a way that was both exhilarating and forbidden.

It feels wrong, achingly so. A bitter realization that despite their mutual longing, their connection can never be fully realized. It’s a harsh wake up call: if he truly wants to better himself, he must shed his bad habit of losing himself in women and distance himself from her.

What a discomforting prospect, the inevitable separation. But he knows it’s the only way forward. He understands that in time, they will both resign themselves to the reality of their infatuation.

It’s a familiar ache, this sense of inevitability that haunts his romantic endeavors like a relentless specter. Javier knows the drill all too well; it’s not his first rodeo in navigating the treacherous terrain of severing emotional ties.

His love life feels like a series of missteps, a cursed labyrinth from which there’s no escape. Despite the initial allure of each new romance, he’s come to anticipate the eventual descent into disappointment. No matter how promising the beginning, the journey always seems to lead to the same desolate destination.

With him hurting them beyond measure.

Fuck the idea of reinventing himself here. He can find peace and monotony anywhere else.

Javier will follow through with his responsibilities, and the second he’s able to peel out of Seminary–– he will, leaving her behind as a bittersweet memory. A beautiful yet unattainable dream that he will carry with him for years to come.

As they pull in to the Leighton residence, he sees the woman that lives in his head perched up on the fence that surrounds the immediate area. Her baggy jeans are hanging low, exposing the sheer fabric of her underwear. She turns as she hears the sound of a car approaching, and her lips pull into a smile once she sees who it is.

Paloma fully expected to wake up the following day filled with regret and plagued by a hangover. The only thing she experienced was the latter, but it had quickly been nursed by a greasy breakfast and some yard work.

Javier had kissed her back, that was enough to feed into her delusions that he does want her. All inhibitions have been dropped, she’s prepared to lay herself out for him–– to tell him that she’s wanted him since the moment they met.

It might seem premature, an impulsive plunge into the uncertainty of his reaction to her feelings, but the tender memory of their shared kiss eclipses all rational thought. She finds herself irresistibly drawn to the possibility of something more, unable to resist the pull of her emotions.

His touch still lingers on her skin. His hands tracing the curves of her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She can still feel the way he had grabbed her ass then gripped onto her hips, pulling her closer to him.

But it was his mouth that left the strongest impression. His tongue had explored the depths of hers, tasting and teasing her with a ferocity that made her feel alive.

In that moment, she had felt desired, cherished, and wanted. It was a feeling that she hadn’t realized she craved so badly until last night. She knew that she would never be able to forget that kiss and the way it had made her feel.

She’s giddy, her excitement bubbling up like fizzy soda, reminiscent of the first time she ever kissed a boy. Except Javier isn’t a boy–– he’s a man. A man whose expertise and skill are a potent aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal to levels she never thought possible.

She’s been hot for him all day, even touched herself to the memory of his soft lips, the tickle of his mustache, against hers then imagining them everywhere else. The mere thought of it is enough to send her heart racing, and she knows that nothing will satisfy her until she has him in her arms again.

Romeo gets out the car, muttering that he’d be right back and Javi opts to stay put. He does not want to speak to her, knowing that the second he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes–– he’d buckle. He needs to build animosity between them; it’s the only way for them to definitively be able to separate from one another.

But she doesn’t make it easy, of course. Because the second her father is inside, she’s practically skipping over to the driver’s side of the cruiser.

“Hello officer. Here to bring me in for all those crimes I committed last night?” She teases as she leans her forearms against the rolled down window, the cowgirl hat perched on her head complimenting her so well.

Javier swallows thickly, taking a lengthy drag of the familiar cigarette between his lips. He can’t outright ignore her so he decides to be short instead.

“M’not here for games, Paloma.” 

She’s taken aback by his tone, her smile faltering.

“Well excuse me for tryin’ to make conversation. Wasn’t aware that you’re in a mood today.” 

There’s a pause despite her attempt to add a teasing tone to her words to lighten him up. It falls flat.

“And I’m not looking to have a conversation. You can go.” 

Her brows cinch together at his dismissal, this is not how she was expecting for this to go.

“What’s goin on’? Is this because we… because of the kiss last night?” She lowers her voice towards the end, red blooming across her cheeks but she keeps her composure.

“Jesus,” Javier chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. It sends a sharp pang through her heart.” Why do you always think that’s the fuckin’ problem whenever I don’t want to talk to you? For someone who claims to be a grown woman all the time, you sure as shit don’t act like it.” 

She stills, the buoyant confidence that had propelled her toward him evaporating in an instant, replaced by a wave of hurt at his unexpected chilliness. What has gotten into him?

“Drop it and move on, Paloma. We just found Jessica Valdez’s body dumped out in a ditch. S’not the time to be hung up on a damn kiss.” 

The sound of the screen door shutting close breaks her away from him and the trance she’d seemingly gone into. Another victim, another tragedy to confront… and here she is acting like a smitten teenaged girl.

The urge to cower and crawl into herself, to surrender to the overwhelming embarrassment and sorrow, threatens to engulf her entirely. She remains silent, fighting back the surge of frustrated, angry tears as she pushes off the car and trudges back toward the house.

Javier exhales heavily once she strides away without a word, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders. He had braced himself for a snide remark or some form of verbal retaliation, but her silent departure was far more impactful.

“I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” Her father murmurs as he passes her, planting a tender kiss atop her head. He lingers there for a moment but she doesn’t question it, knowing it’s because of what they found today and she doesn’t even mind that he hasn’t told her about it.

As he breaks away, she conjures up a semblance of a genuine smile, masking her turmoil, and nods before he affectionately pinches her nose and continues on his way.

She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t cry or go inside–– instead she picks up her discarded gardening gloves and proceeds to channel her energy into the simple act of mowing the grass.

She finds herself alone at the open bar as the party continues in full swing. It’s been days since Jessica’s death, and the tense conversation she had with Javier still lingers in her mind.

“Drop it and move on, Paloma.” 

Unlike the last time they went without speaking, there is much more tension between them now. The worst part about it is having to act as if nothing is wrong in the presence of her father.

No daddy, everything’s fine! It’s not like I threw myself at your co-worker not once, but twice and both times he made me feel like a fucking idiot!

She lets out a disdainful sigh, her fingers curling around the glass containing her coveted cherry root beer since she’s decided to part ways with alcohol and any other substance for the time being.

The two men are busy mingling with other guests and have been since the moment they arrived. Despite her efforts to divert her gaze elsewhere, her eyes keep involuntarily drifting towards Javier’s broad figure.

The event had called for formal attire, so when he strode in wearing a meticulously tailored all-black suit, her breath caught in her throat. The sharp lines of his outfit, coupled with the crispness of his button-down and the matching tie, made her momentarily forget why she was so upset with him. He looked too damn handsome.

It’s brutal how the things we desire most often seem to radiate the brightest when they’re just out of reach.

Observing him mingle effortlessly with others is entertaining. Contrary to her expectations, he appears completely at ease in this bustling social setting, a far cry from the disdain he expressed for large gatherings that morning in his kitchen.

He’s acting a lot more extroverted and… smile-y. It pisses her off as much as it melts her heart.

They make their way over to her and she makes a point to not even look in his direction. Though now she’s caught between her father and Javier as they order another round of drinks. 

It really doesn’t help that they’re shoulder to shoulder. The heady aroma of his cologne, laced with the familiar tang of cigarette smoke and the faint hint of whiskey, infiltrates her senses, making it impossible to outright ignore him.

Javier Peña is like a blazing beacon and she’s the foolish moth drawn inexplicably closer to his flame. But she knows all too well the danger of getting too close, like a moth singed by the heat, the allure of his brightness can be killer.

Javier had assumed that with news of Jessica being found dead, their attendance to this party wouldn’t be mandatory.

Well, he thought wrong. It is a cruel reminder of how life goes on, even when tragedy strikes.

Another dead girl, another over-the-top party.

Which is why he’ll give it an hour–– tops–– to shake whoever’s hand and meet whoever else, then he’d leave. It’s a simple plan, the only thing making it difficult for him is his proximity to the woman he’s desperately trying to cut ties with.

She looks so beautiful tonight, donning a calf length simple black dress that hugs all her curves just right. 

“There they are! My Law and Order! Y’all keepin’ the townsfolk in line?” The boastful voice of Mayor Jonah Abbott draws near and Javier suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t have to interact with the titular birthday boy tonight.

He greets both men with a firm handshake, and when his attention turns to her; Javier has to drown the subtle spark of frustration with his drink at the way his eyes rake over her body.

“And of course, Miss. Paloma. They say a smile is worth a thousand words, but yours? It’s worth a million dreams.” He brings her hand up to his lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles and all she does is offer him a polite smile. Here we go…

“Mr. Abbott—” 

“Jonah, sweetheart. Been tellin’ you to call me that for years now.” 

Her smile threatens to twitch out of annoyance, “Jonah. Happy Birthday. Thank you for invitin’ us to your home.” 

“Always a pleasure to have you ’round. I heard about your performance up in Dallas. Shame I missed it. Woulda loved to hear that beautiful voice of yours and seen you up on that stage.” 

Javier can’t help the subtle grunt he emits at the mayor’s overt flirtation, causing for her to just briefly glance up at him with a bemused flash crossing her stare.

The familiarity of Jonah’s behavior strikes a chord within him. Once upon a time, Javier was just like this–– an arrogant charmer with a penchant for flirting with anything in a skirt. Standing here amidst the other man’s smooth talk, he sees through the facade with clarity born of experience.

It’s a performance, an act to charm his way in between Paloma’s legs, though Javi can clearly see that she’s not falling for it. Does Romeo notice it too, he wonders? Or is he blinded by the mayor’s charisma, unable to see that this man clearly wants to sleep with his daughter.

Then again, Javier’s opinion on this is irrelevant and invalid since he too has been in the same predicament since meeting her. At least he didn’t do it blatantly in front of the sheriff’s face.

Or, in a turn of events, perhaps Romeo doesn’t give a damn. Jonah Abbott presents himself as a viable candidate to be with his daughter; a young politician with deep pockets and a keen interest in her.

Javier can’t shake off the mental picture of the man’s wedding ring adorning her finger, of her transforming into the perfect, submissive wife, tending to the household and filling this place with snot nosed kids. But such a scenario doesn’t align with her fiery and headstrong nature. She’s far too independent and spirited to succumb to the confines of domesticity, particularly for a man like Jonah.

Then again, why the fuck does he care?

“Well as you know, I do two shows every weekend at The Whiskey Fox. Could always stop by and see me and the band.” 

“A busy man like myself always has a full schedule. Though I reckon I should make some time to be out in the community. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by for dinner and a show.” 

He winks at her and of course he does it when her father turns to order himself another drink. Javier’s jaw flinches.

“Now Romeo, why have you been keepin’ this badass motherfucker hidden from me? I knew we had someone new joinin’ the force but I didn’t think it’d be the Javier Peña. A goddamn American hero— right here in Seminary, Texas!” 

As Jonah begins his praises, pairing them with a harsh slap to his shoulder, Javier remains cool and calculating. He refuses to be swayed by empty compliments.

Meanwhile, she breathes a silent sigh of relief as the spotlight shifts away from her, and she finds it amusing at how everyone seems to talk about Javier.

A hero. A true patriot. Such a brave soul for fightin’ the war on drugs on Uncle Sam’s behalf.

If only they knew the truth––if they had even a glimpse of the darkness he’s had to face, they wouldn’t be so quick to idolize him.

The label of hero, bestowed upon him since the demise of Escobar, sits uneasily on his shoulders. The adulation feels like a burden he never asked for, a title he never wanted. It’s a reminder of the complexities of his past, the mistakes he’s made, and the ghosts that continue to haunt him. Javi despises the word, resenting the way it overshadows his true self and the countless sins he harbors in silence.

“Gotta keep ’em humble. Keeps the head on straight.” Romeo banters back, pulling one of those haughty, rich men laughs from the mayor. 

She cringes at the pretentiousness echoing in the air.

The men break out into small talk leaving her feeling awkward as she swirls the almost fully melted ice around the empty cup. It’s not until Jonah is getting ready to move on to a new set of guests that the attention is turned back to her.

“And you, pretty girl, owe me a song. Specifically that one Linda Ronstadt song from the Fourth of July barbecue last year. Remember? S’only fair… consider it a birthday gift from you to me.” 

Despite her inner discomfort, she maintains a face of cheerfulness, though her stomach sinks with apprehension at his request. Memories of the barbecue flood her mind, vivid recollections of his relentless pursuit despite her repeated, albeit polite, refusals.

The word ’no’ is on the tip of her tongue, but knowing all too well the persistence he’s exhibited before; she succumbs to the weight of the occasion—his birthday—and the anticipation in his eyes.

“Blue Bayou, I remember. Does the band know it?” She inquires, her gaze flickering towards the live band stationed near the open area of the dance floor where a throng of people sway to the music.

She’s secretly hoping that they don’t, but the song is very popular so her hope dwindles.

“If they don’t, they will. I’ll introduce you when it’s time.” 

With a tight and forced smile gracing her lips, she simply replies, “Okay,” accompanied by a subtle nod. His wicked grin spreads larger, almost daring Javier to react by punching him square in the jaw.

Regardless of how he feels towards her and their situation, it irks him to no end how this man blatantly disregards her boundaries.

Her body language screams apprehension, evident to anyone observant enough. However, Mayor Abbott is too fixated on persuading her to comply with his wishes to take notice. It’s apparent that he’s not accustomed to hearing the word ’no’.

Javi just holds his tongue, an insult threatening to slip out, as he finishes his drink with a practiced air of nonchalance.

The mayor finally says his goodbyes before walking away and her shoulders drop instantly.

“Guess I owe ya twenty bucks.” Romeo mutters, digging into his suit pocket for his wallet. 

The laugh she gives, though slight, simultaneously soothes and torments his heart.

Damn it all— this is going to be torture but he must endure.

“She bet that he was gonna pull somethin’ like this before leavin’ the house. I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t.” He explains to Javier as he slips his daughter the twenty dollar bill which she slyly stuffs under the fabric of her dress by her chest.

The action, seemingly simple, is so hot to him.

“How many times do I have to say m’not a damn show pony that does tricks whenever it’s asked? He’s so lucky that I’m polite and that it’s his birthday— If not I woulda told him to shove it—-” She doesn’t finish her sentence as they’re approached by a group of people that she doesn’t recognize nor care for.

She feels like an afterthought as they bombard the men with questions about the recent cases and other related topics, so she takes that as her cue to leave, ordering another mocktail before slipping away towards the dance floor.

She is fully prepared to turn her brain off to enjoy some semblance of normalcy before she’s thrown back in to the confusing pit that is her current status with the former DEA agent.

Attempting to convince herself that she’s enjoying the moment, she sways to the lively rhythm of the music, lost in her own solitary dance. A few partygoers approach her asking to join her which she declines; peeved by all the unwanted attention she’s getting.

This isn’t even her party. She holds no merit here.

Javier only catches glimpses of her from his peripheral, engrossed in a conversation with a man who remembers him from his sheriff days in Laredo, before he left for Colombia. The discourse drones on, punctuated by forced laughter and idle pleasantries. Each word falls flat, devoid of substance, yet Javier remains steadfast. Anything to keep him and his mind away from her.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of microphone feedback reverberates off the opulent walls of the ballroom-style space and she winces at noise.

“Excuse me, sorry–– I’m not very good with these things.” The man of the hour apologizes, his voice crackling through the speakers. She inwardly curses, anticipating what’s to come next. Setting her now-empty glass down on one of the nearby tables, she smooths her hands along the velvety fabric of her dress, ironing out any wrinkles, and hastily fixes her hair as best as she can without a mirror.

With a deep breath, she pushes down her nerves, summoning a smile to face the adversity when he introduces her. She steps onto the stage, the room erupting into scattered applause as she approaches the microphone.

♫

Midway through the song, to her surprise, Jonah joins her on stage, transforming the solo performance into an unexpected duet. Despite her inner discomfort, Paloma maintains a composed expression and tries to conceal any hint of surprise in her body language as he draws nearer.

Her unease heightens when he pulls her close against him, the heat of his body against hers as they sway to the rhythm of the music during the instrumental interlude of the country song. She reluctantly complies, her compliance more a result of avoidance of potential consequences than genuine willingness to dance with him.

The sight of his possessive grip on her waist, pulling her into an unwelcome dance, ignites a surge of vexation within Javier. He feels the tension in his muscles coil tighter with each step they take, their bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the music. It’s unbearable to watch, the image of Paloma in Jonah’s arms twisting like a knife in his gut.

Without a word, Javier makes his escape, his strides purposeful as he navigates through the crowded room. He mutters a vague excuse to Romeo, the urgency in his voice betraying his need to flee from the suffocating scene unfolding before him.

Finally stepping out into the cooler night air, Javier takes a deep breath to soothe his frazzled nerves. He makes his way towards a gazebo that’s right by the large pond, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the party inside.

Leaning against the railing of the structure, he retrieves his trusty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, hands trembling slightly as he lights one. Each drag offers a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil brewing inside him.

Inside, the song ends and she wastes no time in descending the stage, a sense of urgency propelling her movements. She refuses to linger, her mind consumed with the dread of another unwanted encounter with the mayor. Surveying the crowded room, she searches in vain for her father or Javier, but they’re nowhere to be found amidst the sea of faces.

Determined to escape the party atmosphere, Paloma makes a beeline for the exit, craving the solace of the summer night air. Stepping out onto the back porch, she inhales deeply, the breeze offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the event.

The night is alive with subtle sounds—toads croaking in the distance, the distant murmur of conversation—but it’s the solitary figure in the distance that captures her attention. With a sense of inevitability, Paloma finds herself drawn towards the silhouette, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she descends the steps leading to the gazebo.

When she approaches, Javier remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the tranquil expanse of water before him. The rhythmic puff of his cigarette punctuates the silence, a tangible barrier between them. Despite the tension hanging in the air, Paloma presses forward, her resolve unyielding as she closes the distance between them.

“We need to talk.” 

He stands like a statue, the weight of her words are heavy, yet he remains resolute in his silence, hoping that she’ll simply give up and leave him be. But Paloma is nothing if not persistent, her frustration bubbling over as she confronts him.

“Fuck, Javier will you at least look at me?! Acknowledge that I’m standin’ here tryin’ to speak with you?!” Her voice crackles with pent-up emotion, her southern accent thick as each word is laden with an intensity that he can’t ignore.

Reluctantly, he turns his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her figure with resignation. It’s a small concession, but it’s enough to stoke the fire of her frustration to new heights.

“I dunno why you’ve decided to be such a jerk to me all of the sudden,” she continues, her tone laced with a raw edge of hurt and confusion. “You’re tellin’ me that I’m bein’ childish a-and that I need to move on from the kiss but we both know it’s so much bigger than that. We’ve been dancin’ around it since the moment we met and I’m tired of pretendin’ like I don’t want you.” 

His eyes close briefly, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he retreats behind his stoic facade once more. His fingers find their way to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he struggles to find the right words to respond. But before he can form a coherent thought, she presses on, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

“I told myself I wouldn’t care if you didn’t feel the same way,” She admits, her voice growing softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. “But that was before I got to know you. Before you somehow wriggled your way into my heart and overtook my mind entirely. We became friends, and I-I didn’t want to screw that up. But then we kissed, and in that moment, I knew you wanted me just as badly…” 

She draws closer, her hand reaching out tentatively to rest on his shoulder, the touch sending a jolt of tension through his body. It’s a silent plea, a manifestation of her vulnerability, and it’s all he can do to keep his composure still as her words wash over him like a hurricane.

“Every time I see you I don’t want to behave, Javi. I’m tired of being patient, so let’s pick up the pace and finally give in.” 

He flicks his finished cigarette out into the water, the ember trailing like a shooting star before disappearing into the dark abyss below.

Slowly, he turns to face her fully, the summer air crackling with tension as he takes in her determined stance. His hand shoots out, grabbing hold of the wrist that had just been resting on him, his dark eyes boring into hers in an act of intimidation.

But Paloma doesn’t back down, her gaze unwavering as she meets his stare head-on. Instead, she brings her free hand up to rest against his chest, the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of his shirt as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until his dress shoes are toe-to-toe with her pointed heels.

He doesn’t make an effort to step away or decline her advances, his resolve crumbling in the face of her determination. Her words have jumbled him up completely, the sudden revelation of her feelings catching him off guard and leaving him reeling. The direct mention of what they’ve been indulging in for the past few months digs into his achilles’ heel—his tendency to fall in love in the damndest of times.

He stares down into her eyes, a storm of conflicting emotions raging wildly. The lust swirling in her gaze stirs something primal and raw within him. Any rational part of his brain seems to shut down in that moment, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming desire to kiss her again, to lose himself in the exhilarating whirlwind of emotions that she evokes from him.

“It’s obviously insane, m’not a fucking idiot I understand the repercussions…. but we both know what we want, so why don’t we…” She whispers, tilting her head up until their lips brush against one another.

“Why don’t we fall in love?” 

It’s not clear who makes the first move, but their lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss—a fierce collision of desire and pent-up longing that surpasses the one they had previously shared. Paloma’s hand on his chest clenches the fabric of his shirt while Javier relinquishes his grip on her wrist, his own hands rising to cradle her jaw in his palms.

The taste of the lingering cigarette smoke mingles with the faint bitterness of alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that heightens her desire. She moans softly into his mouth, her tongue intertwining with his in a desperate attempt to savor every fleeting moment before it inevitably slips away.

Javier, consumed by the intoxicating sensation, slowly walks her back until her back is against the sturdy pillar of the gazebo, his movements now possessive and urgent. He deepens the kiss, molding his body against hers as if to merge their souls into one.

Her touch is addicting, a bittersweet symphony that resonates in the depths of his bones. Despite the warnings screaming in the recesses of his mind, urging him to stop and pull away, he finds himself unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerts over him.

Breaking the kiss, Javier’s lips trail down the side of her mouth, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her jawline before descending to her neck. His teeth graze her delicate skin, resisting the urge to leave a trail of marks in their wake as his tongue traces a path along her neck and up to her earlobe, where he bites down gently.

“Is this what you wanted, nena? For me to shower you in my fucking attention?” He husks, his voice thick with desire and a hint of frustration. His words swim between them, a question laced with layers of longing and palpable need, as he continues to lavish attention upon her neck, each kiss and caress fueling the flames of their mutual desire.

Paloma just whines, arching herself into him as her thighs rub together to relieve the tension of arousal that is assaulting her core.

“Yes, Javi, that’s all I want. I want you to talk to me, to touch me, to make me feel good.” 

Her hands are now against his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she feels the muscles beneath tense at her touch. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips in response to her words, a primal sound that sends shivers down her spine.

“I can make you feel good, hermosa. Better than any fucking culero (asshole) in this town.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with possessiveness. With deliberate intent, Javi begins to hike up her long dress, the fabric yielding easily to his touch until it’s gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her black, lacey panties. His hands roam lower, trailing a path of electricity along her skin until they find purchase behind her thighs, gripping the soft skin firmly as he effortlessly lifts her into his arms.

She wraps her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he hoists her up against the solid pillar of the gazebo. She feels his hardness pressing up against her clothed cunt and it has a sharp pang of pleasure sprouting at her core, igniting a fierce heat to course through her entirely. His touch is addicting, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through her body as she surrenders to the intrinsic urgency of their shared horniness.

The pure conviction in his tone only adds to the intensity of the moment. She wants nothing more than to be completely ruined by this man. She wants to be his, and his alone.

Javier grinds his hips up, the friction between them firing up every nerve ending. Her pussy throbs with need, aching for more of his touch. She can feel every inch of him pressing against her, his hard cock straining against his pants, begging to be released.

As their bodies move in perfect harmony, she wraps her fingers in his hair, tugging at it lightly. His lips move from her neck and crash against hers, a wild, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting for air. It grows more frenzied, their teeth clashing together in a desperate and selfish need for more. She moans into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electric arousal straight to his cock. He grinds harder against her, his hips moving in rhythm with hers.

She can feel her orgasm building, a fierce heat blossoming at her pussy. Her whimpers turn to animated moans as she writhes against him. The last time she dry humped someone to completion had been way back in high school and that had been an overall embarrassment so it’s never something she revisited.

Not until now, with Javier who is making her feel like she’s the only girl in the fucking world.

His fingers expertly cup her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arches her back, pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more. He takes the hint, groping her and squeezing it gently, relishing in the way she shudders.

Her eyes close in ecstasy as he continues to knead her tit. His other hand trails along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between her legs. When he finally reaches her core, she gasps, her body trembling with need. He doesn’t touch her, instead he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“If this is what you wanted so fucking bad then go ahead and take it, needy girl. Go on, make yourself cum by grinding that wet pussy all over me.” 

She mewls, throwing her head back as she feels her orgasm building. She’s such a sight to bear witness to, how her swollen lips part and his name slips from her tongue like a hymn, making his cock twitch.

Her wetness seeps through her flimsy thong, leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his dress pants. He can feel it seeping through the material and it drives him mad. He needs to be inside her, to feel her walls fluttering around his cock as they finally give in to each other…

But first, he wants to watch her unravel just like this.

“I’m close, Javi…” His lips hungrily devour the tender flesh of her neck again, making her eyes roll back as their hips continue to move at a sensual pace. The metallic zipper of his pants brushes against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She can’t help but cry out in sweet surrender, her voice louder than before.

His large hand clamps over her mouth, preventing her screams from echoing out.

“Don’t get us caught, chiquita. Wouldn’t want your daddy comin’ out here and findin’ you like this–– all cockdrunk and begging to be fucked.” 

His dirty and abrasive words are like fuel to the flames of her impending climax, sending her spiraling out of control. Her rhythm stutters, her body writhing uncontrollably as she bites down on the skin of his palm as the orgasm overtakes her entirely.

All that can be heard is their heavy, shared pants. His hand falls from her mouth as she falls limp in his arms, her body jolting every now and again with the aftershock of her intense orgasm. 

She peppers tender kisses along the bare expanse of his jaw, silently berating him for having his shirt buttoned up for once and the pesky tie restricting her from licking and biting against the tantalizing skin of his neck and collarbone.

“Need… need to feel you, Javi, please.” She whines against his ear, her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders, over his chest, then down to his belt buckle. She can still feel the swell of him pressed up against her sopping cunt and despite just coming hard; she’s craving to feel all of him.

This is the pivotal moment where he knows he should exercise restraint, where the noble path of virtue beckons him to rise above the consuming tide of desire. To explain to her that they can and never will be anything but an unattainable fantasy.

But he doesn’t, instead Javi lets her untuck his dress shirt from his pants and helps her with unbuckling his belt.

“We shouldn’t do this, Paloma…” Is all he can say in an attempt to keep it from happening but she shushes him, her hand slipping beneath his boxers as she wraps her manicured fingers around his girth and begins to pump him slowly.

“Mierda,” He curses in Spanish, his forehead falling gently against hers as his eyes flutter close at the overwhelming feeling of her softer, smaller hand jerking him off. Her thumb glides over the tip, spreading his excessive precum over the length of his cock.

“But we want to… oh you’re so big Javi. Gonna be feelin’ you for days…” She sounds like something out of a wet dream and he simply can’t hold back any longer.

He instructs her to grab his wallet from his suit pocket and to retrieve the condom he keeps in there, receiving a playful eye roll from her but she doesn’t push her luck–– she needs him badly and she’d go absolutely feral if he decided to deny them both the pleasure of fucking.

His strong hold on her keeps them secure against the pillar, she rips the small package with her teeth then pushes his pants down enough to release his erection, rolling the latex on easily.

There’s a moment where suspension hangs in the air, both of them staring into each other’s lust blown eyes.

“Don’t think about it too much, please. Just fuck me.” 

Her insistence is such a turn on, spurring him into reaching down to ball up the thin layer of her panties before he yanks them off, the sound of the fabric tearing apart causing her to gasp. Stuffing the ruined material into his back pocket, he readjusts his hips so that the thick head of his cock presses up against her exposed and puffy folds.

“Such an impatient little thing, hermosa. I shouldn’t even give you what you want. Should just walk away and leave you here a desperate and wet mess.” 

Gripping onto the base of his cock with his free hand, Javier nudges it between her slit and teases her, the head repeatedly brushing against the pearl of her clit.

Her breath hitches, rolling her hips to entice him into entering her, “Please, Javi, I’ll do whatever you want just plea–– oh f-fuck!” 

He sinks into her pussy, leaning forward to bite down on her shoulder to keep his own sounds of pleasure at bay as he feels the way her fleshy walls contract around his cock, stretching her with how thick he is.

Her fingers return to intertwine themselves in his hair as he begins to set a delicious pace, fucking into her with a passion that’s making her see stars. The feeling of his teeth digging into her skin is an added stimulant to the already immense pleasure.

“Damn it you’re so tight. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl. You satisfied now that I’m giving you what you want, huh?” He grunts out, nipping at her jawline as all she does is keen and moan, too overwhelmed with how good he’s making her feel. “Spoiled little thing, gonna fuck that right out of this tight little body. So you can learn, fuck, learn how not to be such a fucking pain in my ass.” 

She’s too wrapped up in the feeling of him brushing up against her cervix to fully process what he is saying against her skin. Their lips slant over each other as they kiss messily, the way he fucks her making her brain melt.

There’s no thoughts up there, just the feeling of him as he continues to break her open with his delicious cock.

His hands fall down to her waist, holding on tightly as he goes from languid thrusts to a quicker, more brutal pace as they chase their orgasms.

She’s glad that they’re far away enough to where no one can interrupt this moment, though the idea of there being an onlooker does entice her more than she’d ever admit. 

Her legs tighten around his waist, the pointed heel of her shoes digging into his backside as she feels a knot forming at the pit of her stomach, indicating that she isn’t far from coming undone.

“C’mon nena, be a good girl and let go,” His thumb finds itself being pressed against her soft lips and immediately she opens her mouth, licking around then sucking the digit and maintaining eye contact through it all. It has Javier grunting out a few expletives before letting his saliva coated thumb drop between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit.

This has her clenching around him and crying out, which causes a smirk to tug at his lips as he puts more pressure onto her clit.” Tan bonita así, toda lista para mi. (So pretty like this, all ready for me)” 

She tugs harshly at his hair at the sound of his Spanish, her arousal topples over and her second orgasm hits her like toppling bricks. She squeezes his cock tightly inside her, her legs an iron grip on his waist as she bites down harshly on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood, to keep her intense whimpers and moans from spilling out and drawing attention to them.

Satisfied that he’s made her unravel on him, Javier fucks her through her orgasm relentlessly until he’s spilling into the condom, burying his face in her neck, right where he can feel her pulse, and grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to leave a mark, for her to walk around with evidence of him on her body but that’d be a wrong move atop of all the other wrong moves he’s made tonight.

Paloma breathes heavily, mind hazy as she tries to recollect herself from the throes of passion bestowed upon her by Javier Peña. They stay there, embraced in one another before he pulls out of her with a grunt and she whines at the loss of him.

Her legs unwrap from his waist as he tentatively sets her down, discarding of the condom into the water as he tucks himself back into his pants and she pulls her dress down, not even bothered by the fact that he ripped her underwear right off of her.

“That was a mistake.” 

His statement cuts through the night air and she’s already struggling to catch her footing on wobbly legs, the effect of being fucked hard and good.

“Javi––” 

“No, Paloma, I’m fucking serious.” He asserts, his voice taking on a sharp edge, landing like a heavy blow on her already rattled nerves.

“All that sentimental bullshit you were saying before… it means nothing to me. You’re just a distraction–– a pretty face that’s been keeping me from doing my damn job. Now, there’s another life lost, and instead of finding answers, I’m too busy babysitting you.” 

“Don’t you dare pin your incompetence on me, Javier,” She shoots back, her tone tinged with anger and frustration,” I’ve seen my father struggle with this bullshit for months now–– it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. S’not my fault you’re not as clever as everyone thinks you are. All the praise you get for being such a fuckin’ hero and yet… look at you. Unable to meet the expectations.” 

She adjusts the thin straps of her dress back up her shoulder, wincing slightly as she brushes against the bite mark he accidentally left against her skin, knowing that she’s going to feel that atop of the soreness between her legs after this.

She braces herself for the inevitable discomfort that will follow, both physically and emotionally.

Javier’s jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he fights to maintain his composure. He knows better than to let her words get to him the way that they are.

This is exactly what they need, some intense fight to fully shatter the illusion of their involvement.

“Look at you, Paloma,” He sneers, his words dripping with contempt as he levels a scornful gaze at her. “Throwing yourself at me every chance you get like a whore. I used to pay for shit like this, but you? Oh, I didn’t spare a fucking dime. Giving it all up for free.” 

Her jaw drops, a surge of anger and indignation flooding her senses as his words cut through her like a knife. She raises her hand instinctively, intent on delivering a stinging rebuke in the form of a slap across his jaw. But before she can make contact, his grip tightens around her wrist, arresting her movement with an iron grip.

“Don’t be stupid, querida,” He mocks her, his voice laced with disdain as he delivers each word like a venomous dagger. “Now that I fucked you one good time: Leave. Me. Alone. How ’bout you go back inside and fraternize with the mayor. I’m sure he’s eager to give you all the male validation you’re clearly chasing after.” He tilts his head, glaring at her in contempt. “Better yet, run off to your junkie, criminal boyfriend; won’t be long before he knocks you up and you’re stuck living in a run down trailer park in this shitty fucking town.” 

Paloma’s heart shatters at his callous words, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She gazes up at Javier, but the man before her is no longer the sweet, charming figure she thought she knew. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now glint with coldness and malice, rendering him unrecognizable to her.

“Fuck you,” She spits, wrenching her hand free from his grip with a mixture of anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. Despite the tears welling up, she summons every ounce of defiance to shoot him a disdainful glare. “You’re a piece of shit, Javier Peña.” 

With those final words, ones he’s heard a plethora of times before, she whirls around, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden stairs as she races to the nearest bathroom.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs, she finds solace in the confines of the lavish restroom, allowing herself to unleash the torrent of tears pent up inside. Feeling foolish and utterly used, she wonders how she could have ever fallen for a man like him.

Meanwhile, Javier is left grappling with the sight of her heartbreak now etched into his memory. Pushing aside his own conflicted emotions, he knows he can’t afford to let their tangled affair distract him any longer.

This is what you both needed. He reminds himself, looking out into the water as the silver moonlight reflects off of the surface. Harsh, but she’ll get over it.

Javier leans forward, allowing his forehead to gently meet the chill of the shower tiles. Steam envelops the entire bathroom, swirling around him as the warmth of the cascading water embraces his skin.

Every fiber of his being screams against the temptation, but it’s too overwhelming to resist. His mind has been hijacked by lascivious musings since his first flicker of consciousness, and it only intensified with each passing second. The rational part of him had urged for a cold shower to extinguish the smoldering fire, but the primal instinct within demanded something more.

His cock has been throbbing with want since the moment he woke, the crimson head moistened with a droplet of precum. A deep moan escaped his lips as he reached down to ease the tension, but just as he began to feel a rush of pleasure, thoughts of her invaded his mind.

Her laughter a symphony of sensuality.

The warmth in her eyes like a glowing ember, making him feel hot with a desire he’s never experienced before.

The curve of her ass a work of art, a masterpiece that he longed to caress and gently bite down on as he worshipped her body.

And those magnificent tits of hers, god how they had looked that night at the fair, teasing and tempting him with their lusciousness in her corset.

The way she wore low-rise jeans, clinging to her hips like a second skin, had him yearning to leave bruising marks with the press of his fingertips; preferably as he took her from behind, her ass bouncing against his thighs while his dick pistoned into her.

He had halted immediately, his hand retracting swiftly from beneath the sheet as if scalded by its touch. Muttering curses under his breath, he rose with a sense of urgency, the need to cleanse both body and mind propelling him towards the shower to prepare for the day ahead.

Now he’s here, doing his worst to keep the fantasies away. Javier imagines her joining him in the shower, he can almost feel her wet body pressed against his. He envisions her sinking to her knees, wrapping those pouty pink lips around him and taking him deep into her mouth. Feeling her tight throat clenching around him as she gags and struggles to breathe, eagerly swallowing every drop of his release. The temptation is too much to bear, and he surrenders to the sensual daydream.

Fuck, in a slow and deliberate movement, Javier’s hand glides down the contours of his chiseled chest, trailing his soft abdomen until it reaches its ultimate destination. Wrapping his hand around his impressive girth, he begins to stroke himself with a gentle, yet purposeful motion. But no matter how hard he tries to push her from his mind, the thought of Paloma lingers, taunting him. He desperately tries to conjure up memories of past lovers, but none of them compare to the fiery passion that she ignites within him.

She would look so pretty pinned up against the wall, resembling a riveting piece of artwork, as he stuffed his cock deep into her. He wonders whether she could handle him all at once or if he would have to indulge in the slow pleasure of opening her up with his skilled tongue and fingers, coaxing her into a frenzy of orgasmic bliss.

She must taste heavenly, like nectar from a honeysuckle on a warm spring day. Javier’s mouth waters at the thought of exploring her so intimately, getting lost in the sensation of her warm and feeling her wetness smearing all over his lips and jaw. He could almost hear her sweet moans of pleasure as he licked and sucked on her most sensitive spots, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy.

He’d do it over and over again until she was whining that it was too much and she couldn’t take it anymore.

But she would, he’d make sure of it. He’d be determined to make her succumb to his every desire. Javier would talk her through the waves of pleasure, whispering the filthiest things in her ear and savoring the sound of her dulcet whimpers and melodic moans as she unraveled under his skilled touch.

He knows she’d make the prettiest faces, her swollen lips parting and repeating his name over and over, eyes shut close in which he’d tell her to open those pretty eyes of hers so she could watch him get her off for the umpteen time. He wouldn’t fuck her with his dick, not until he’s made it clear how generous of a lover he is.

He tenses briefly, heavy cock still in his hand as his pace moves from languish movements to quicker flicks of his wrist.

He’s so close, the familiar spark of arousal causing him to shudder as his balls clench with anticipation; images of Paloma, stripped naked and spread out before him in a myriad of sensual scenarios and positions flood his mind, driving him to groan with unbridled passion. His orgasm racks through him harshly, his release coating his fingers in a sticky sheen before vanishing down the drain.

Javier pauses to regain his composure and gather his breath. His forehead remains firmly planted against the tile, and he can’t resist lightly tapping against it as he chastises himself for giving in to the temptation of masturbating to her.

Certainly it’s not uncharted territory for him, yet following the surge of tension between them, he had ceased such indulgences altogether. He hadn’t even had the urge to pleasure himself in weeks.

Today, for some reason, was an exception; marked by the persistent stiffness of morning arousal. His thoughts were fixated on her and his willpower was unwavering.

Javier finishes his shower, emerging from the mist and he envelops his lower-half in a towel. With toothbrush in hand, he diligently tends to brushing his teeth when there’s an unexpected rap at the door. His brows furrow in mild annoyance, curious as to who was seeking him out on his only day off this week.

He lets the towel fall to the ground in his bedroom and he grabs his jeans, sliding them up his legs and foregoing any underwear. In true Javi style. He zips them up yet the button remains unfastened, a deliberate omission.

As he lazily holds his toothbrush in his mouth, he strides towards the front door. It yields to his touch, his initial annoyance gives way to a self-assured smirk, his expression a subtle blend of amusement and satisfaction.

On the weathered porch of his modest trailer, Javier is greeted by Paloma, looking gorgeous as always in a enticing sundress that’s short enough to expose her beautiful long legs. Her hair, styled in a playful half-up, half-down look, frames her face like a delicate masterpiece. 

She had hesitated, contemplating turning back when the silence lingered, a creeping doubt whispering that she might have the wrong address. Yet, just as uncertainty began to sway her resolve, Javier emerged, clad in nothing but snug denim, confirming she had indeed arrived precisely where she needed to be.

She couldn’t give a damn if he spotted her ogling him, he had opened the door flaunting his half-nakedness so shamelessly. He’s obviously just stepped out of the shower, his locks damp and tousled in all the right places, droplets of water cascading down his glistening, honeyed torso. It is the first time she’s seen him in such a bare state.

Her intuition had been spot on— he is a chiseled, sculpted hunk of a man.

Seeing him in the flesh is making her legs tremble with desire and causing a delightful dampness to form between her thighs.

Only when her gaze traces the tantalizing tuft of hair that begins at his belly and vanishes beneath the fabric of his jeans, does she feel the heat rising within her. The bulge of his cock is unmistakable, and she can’t help but gulp audibly as she takes in the impressive girth straining against his left thigh.

Her mouth waters, literally.

“Nena, ¿qué haces aquí? (Baby what are you doing here?)” His voice oozes with smugness, relishing the familiar thrill of eliciting such reactions from women. Yet to provoke such a response from her, in particular, sends his ego soaring to new heights.

“The library is having a bake sale…” She starts, eyes still fixated on his crotch before it snaps up to meet his lustful stare. “I’m goin’ door to door sellin’ my cookies to help out.” Which is true, yet when she had seen his home address on the list of places to visit— obviously she’d made sure to stop by here first.

“Is that so?” He muses, just now realizing that she’s got a small container in her hand, “Do you want to come in?”

The question hangs between them, both insatiably horny yet dead set on not crossing the sexual threshold of their friendship.

“Sure.”

With a gentlemanly gesture, he moves aside, granting her entrance. She mutters a soft thank you, gripping onto the container in her hand to keep herself together.

The aroma of his body wash, infused with hints of mint from the fresh toothpaste, envelops her senses; a potent concoction that she finds herself inexplicably drawn to.

While she’s always appreciated the fragrance of a good cologne, the impact of Javier’s scent surpasses any previous encounter, leaving her captivated in a way she’s never experienced before.

“Gonna finish gettin’ ready. Be right back.” He tells her plainly, walking off into his room and this allows her to have a second to breathe, steadying herself on the back of his couch as she gives herself a little pep talk before she hears him coming in again.

“ Santa María por favor dame the strength not to fu— sleep this man.” She whispers in a sacrilegious prayer, straightening her posture when he re-emerges.

“So… you baked?”

Javi’s sporting an old DEA t-shirt, the lettering a bit faded due to time along with those cursed tight jeans. He looks so hot, she begins to wonder if not fucking him is even worth it at all.

It is worth it. You have a date coming up with a guy your age and getting involved with Javier will just bring you more problems than peace. Plus, you like being his friend. Sleeping with him will only fuck that up. Her conscience reminds her, following after him as he leads her deeper into the small home.

“Mhm, stayed up all night putting blood, sweat and tears into these. There’s a point in between batches where I blacked out and fell asleep at the counter so I don’t claim the ones that are slightly burnt. I didn’t have the heart to toss ‘em.”

“Not only are these made out of blood, sweat and tears— but they’re burnt too. Huh...”

Now in his kitchen, the confined space amplifies their proximity. She perches on a stool beside the compact counter, her gaze fixed on him as he unlids the container.

His eyes flicker between her and the tempting contents of her baked goods. “Some bake sale you’re putting on.”

His teasing has her playfully rolling her eyes, “Not all of them. Just some of the oatmeal raisin ones.”

“Good riddance.”

“I think you purposefully hate on all the snacks I enjoy.”

“No, querida, you just have shitty taste in snacks.” Javi remarks, tempted to include a jab about her taste in men as well, yet opting to withhold that comment. For now.

“And you have shitty taste in decorations. Jeez, cowboy, are you even a real person?” She quips, critiquing the lack of character in his living space. It resembles a generic model home, seemingly plucked from a showcase and deposited in the midst of nowhere.

“Sometimes I ask myself that same question.” He shrugs, reaching for one of the more inviting looking desserts but she slaps at his hand.

“You have to pay for them first.”

“How much for the whole damn thing?” Leaning in on his elbows, he meets her halfway, their gazes locked in a silent exchange, each peering into the depths of the other’s brown eyes.

With a subtle narrowing of her own gaze, she communicates a silent message, her expression betraying a hint of playful challenge.

She gives him the price, he nods.

“Let me go get my wallet.” As he turns away and strides into the living room, her gaze remains fixed on him, engrossed by the way his shirt hugs his muscular frame and accentuates every ripple of his back. She can’t help but feel a flutter in her chest as she watches him go.

She lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling as if she’s fawning over a celebrity heartthrob.

Paloma looks around the plain space, a little disappointed that she won’t be able to decipher his character based on the decor he had.

When he returns, she can’t help but ask why it’s so empty. 

“‘Cause I don’t plan on bein’ here long enough to call this place home.” Javier responds, his words carrying a straightforward, pragmatic tone. Yet, despite their simplicity, they strike her with unexpected force, shattering the illusion she has harbored.

Why did she assume he would just… stay? Surely after helping her father out as much as he could, he’d be packing up and moving on to his next assignment.

The weight of reality tightens its grip around her heart, yet she maintains a composed facade, her outward demeanor a mask of serenity as she nods in understanding.

“Right, right. Makes sense… how long do you plan on stickin’ around?” She attempts to pose her question with an air of nonchalance, though beneath the facade, a creeping sense of dread begins to take hold as she awaits his response.

He doesn’t offer it immediately, sensing the subtle change in her demeanor, prompting him to pause and consider his words carefully. “Not sure, hermosa.” It remains simple and nebulous, as he too finds himself uncertain of the answer to that very question.

In an attempt to change the subject, he slides the money over to her, “Now can I have one?”

She exhales slowly, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, offering him a tentative smile, “Knock yourself out.”

She takes the bills from him while he casually selects one of the cookies, indulging in a bite and emitting a contented hum of approval at the flavor. “ Not bad, “ He remarks succinctly, and she can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at his underwhelming critique.

“Really? That’s all I get? ‘Not bad’? I stayed up all night making these— I think I deserve more than just ‘Not bad’.”

A chuckle escapes him at her reaction, finding her response utterly adorable. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he takes another deliberate bite of the cookie, adopting a thoughtful expression as if pondering its flavor with exaggerated seriousness. “The flavor profile is so… decadent. The richness of the chocolate is just superb—”

“Okay, well, if you’re going to be an asshole about it then never mind.” She crosses her arms against her chest with mock indignation, though a playful glint dances in her eyes; amused by their banter.

He shakes his head at her, finishing off the treat with a satisfied smirk.

“It was very delicious, muñeca. Is there anything you’re not good at?” Javier asks, genuine admiration coloring his words since she seems to excel at any task that’s presented to her.

With a snort, she retorts, “Yeah, how much time do you have?” Her mind swirls with a litany of frustrations—her failed attempts at nurturing a fucking vegetable garden, the relentless battle to suppress her feelings for him, her inability to stand up to her father.

The list goes on and on, but she keeps her struggles to herself. The version of herself that lives in Javier’s mind, the one that’s perfect and can do no wrong, one she’d like to preserve as long as possible. Especially since he wasn’t planning on residing in Seminary long-term.

Javier chuckles in response, letting his gaze soften, “You’re too tough on yourself, Paloma. You should give yourself more credit.” She can’t help but feel a hint of bashfulness creeping over her as he says this, twirling a tendril of her hair around her manicured fingertip absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on Javier with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Their playful conversation weaves through the air like a melody, punctuated by laughter and laced with a subtle undercurrent of flirtation, creating an atmosphere that feels as light and comforting as a summer breeze.

“Ever held a gun before?” He asks, noticing how her gaze had trailed over to where his pistol and badge sat on the opposite side of the counter. 

Paloma’s eyes had only lingered on the objects because she remembered how sexy he’d looked last Sunday while apprehending Mr. Thorton.

She has to keep herself from squeezing her thighs together to release some of the pressure of her arousal as she recalls it. Her lack of underwear having some of her wetness smear against her inner thighs.

At his question, though, a very mischievous idea suddenly pops into her head.

“Nope. Daddy has always been paranoid about all that.” It’s a lie that slips effortlessly from her lips, despite the fact that her father had been very serious about gun safety and had taught her how to shoot at a young age. In fact, she’s quite capable of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling a weapon with precision.

But Javier doesn’t need to know this. Not yet, at least.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t offer to teach you a thing or two.”

Paloma snorts, “Oh c’mon. I’m a grown woman livin’ in an open carry state. I should learn how to use one… all things considered too…” She alludes to the homicide cases and the current missing girl.

Javier wets his lower lip, contemplating his next move. She makes a good point, it wouldn’t hurt for her to know her way around the weapon and he’s surprised that her father hasn’t at least given her a few pointers with how paranoid he is that something is going to happen to her. 

Still, he doesn’t want to overstep the elder man… but really, he’s already overstepped when he came all over his hand earlier while thinking of fucking the sherrif’s daughter.

She’s also proactively requesting for him to teach her, showing her own determination and initiative in the matter.

“Fine. I’ll meet you in the backyard.” He acquiesces, pushing himself away from the counter. He snags one more cookie from the container before disappearing down the hallway.

Her eyes sparkle with excitement as his agreement sinks in, eager to see his reaction when she unveils her little secret to him. She springs off the stool, sliding open the glass door leading to the backyard. Shielding her face from the intense sunlight, she steps outside, ready to embark on this unexpected activity with Javier.

From the back porch, Paloma observes him as he arranges an assortment of targets, using miscellaneous items he had gathered from around his home: empty beer bottles, a vase that had long irked him with its presence, and other odds and ends.

Once he finishes, they stand side by side, facing the trunk of his police cruiser, which he had pulled around to park in the backyard. The trunk is open, revealing the duffle bag of firearms issued to every officer. Javier gestures for Paloma to make her selection, his expression a mixture of anticipation and encouragement.

“Hm,” Paloma muses, tapping her chin as if in deep contemplation before pointing to the double-barrel shotgun.

Javier is slightly taken aback by her choice, but he swiftly retrieves the shotgun from the bag, along with a handful of shells. “ This one’s pretty heavy. Sure you can handle it, palomita?” he asks, a condescending tone lacing his words.

“Trust me, I can handle it.” she responds confidently, her tone carrying a subtle salacious edge. With a sweet smile directed at Javier, she turns and strides confidently towards the shooting area he had prepared.

He stills, muttering how fucked he is before following after her.

“The kickback is stronger with these. You’ll need to get used to the weight and recoil.”

His movements with the gun are graceful and assured. Her breath hitches as she watches in awe, her lips parting slightly as she bites down on the plump flesh, trying to contain the moan that threatens to escape.

Javier’s hands look massive as they wrap around the gun, and she can’t help but imagine those same hands wrapped around her body, exploring every inch with the same precision and mastery. The way he breaks the shotgun open and loads the shells, his fingers flexing and tensing with each movement has heat rising within her, aching for his touch. 

It’s not just the scorching southern temperature that has her feeling hot all over, but the raw, primal desire that he ignites within her with just a simple gesture.

He possesses an effortless confidence that Paloma finds undeniably alluring. As he adjusts his aviator sunglasses and gestures towards the items scattered across the horizon, his gravelly voice resonates with authority and charm.

“Take a deep breath in, then slowly exhale. Point at the target, squeeze the trigger and shoot. Remember, the kickback can be pretty intense so brace yourself for that.”

He looks so handsome following his own instructions, easily shooting down that hideous vase and a beer bottle, causing them to shatter in pieces. The shots echoes out into the vast area, a few birds flying by.

Javier looks over at her, reloading the shotgun before handing it to her carefully, the safety switched on. “Your turn, nena.”

Paloma, with her piercing gaze and a mischievous smile playing on her lips, feigns innocence as she takes the gun from him. Though she is well-versed in handling firearms, she willingly allows Javier to guide her, relishing the opportunity to draw closer to him under the guise of naivety.

She purposefully handles it oddly which has him pressing flush against her back as he guides her hands into the right position. It takes everything in her not to lean back against him, the breeze that passes by paired with his proximity sends a shiver down her spine, the scent of gunpowder mingling with his rugged masculinity and cologne has her damn near whimpering; but she’s able to suppress the noise before it slips up her throat.

“Remember: Aim, squeeze and shoot.” He nudges her leg apart slightly with his knee, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering wildly at the gesture, “And keep yourself grounded. You’re not stupid, so handle this thing carefully. Don’t want you blowing off half of that pretty face.” 

He takes a few steps back, partially to watch her shoot but also because he felt his cock hardening when he pressed himself against her. Feeling the softness of her ass against his crotch was derailing, and it didn’t help that the flimsy fabric of her sundress is thin so he could feel that she wasn’t wearing any fucking panties. He digs into his back pocket to retrieve his pack of smokes, in desperate need of one.

Under Javier’s watchful eye, Paloma raises the shotgun, feeling the weight of it in her hands as she aims at the first target. She switches the safety off, following his instructions (ones she was already aware of) and she keeps the act up, studying the items before her.

After a few moments of doing nothing, Javier speaks up.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to shoot?”

His words spur her into action, a determined glint in her eyes as she readies herself to take aim at the remaining bottles.

But just as she is about to pull the trigger, a sudden flurry of birds burst into the sky, their wings slicing through the air with graceful precision. A smirk dances upon her lips as she swiftly adjusts her stance, the shotgun now pointed skyward with a fluid motion that bespoke her expertise.

In a seamless display of skill and confidence, she tracks the path of the birds with unwavering focus, her finger poised on the trigger. With a steady breath, she squeezes it, unleashing a resounding crack then another that echo across the open expanse. Two birds plummet from the sky in a graceful arc, their feathers ruffling in the wind as they spiraled towards the earth.

Javier watches in awe, unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips, his admiration for her prowess evident in the curve of his growing smile. In that moment, he can’t help but feel a newfound sense of admiration for her.

She wasn’t eager to learn; she was already a master of the fucking craft.

And as she lowers the shotgun, her eyes sparkling with triumph, Javier knows that he has found a kindred spirit in this enamoring woman named Paloma.

He realizes he’s been played a fool, yet his amusement outweighs any sense of annoyance. There is something oddly endearing about the way she had outsmarted him, a playful gleam in her eye that he can’t help but admire.

Her laughter rings out like music in the warm morning air.

“Beginner’s luck, huh?” He says as she beams back at him, pride evident in every line of her expression.

“Daddy’s been on the force since before I was born.”  She explains, her voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “‘Course he taught me, his only child, how to shoot.” Turning to face him fully, she deftly flicks the safety on the firearm before extending it back to him with practiced ease.

“And we used to go duck huntin’ all the time,” She continues, her words carrying the weight of memories shared with her father. “S’how I got good at shootin’ moving targets. You ever been?” Her question hangs in the air, accompanied by a curious tilt of her head.

Javier feels a sense of déjà vu wash over him at her words, a fleeting flashback to that day outside La Catedral with Steve playing out in his mind vividly.

No I have not been duck hunting…. You… fucking hillbilly.

He won’t call her that, though.

“Nope, never been.”

“We should go one day. Y’know, if you stick around long enough.”

Javier senses that their earlier conversation about his impending departure from town did not sit well with her. A small, narcissistic part of him takes pleasure in the knowledge that she will miss him when he eventually leaves.

Their flirtatious banter fills the air like the crack of gunfire, each moment building upon the next as they continue to spend the rest of the morning in each other’s company— shooting at empty beer bottles to pass the time. With each shot fired and each shared smile, the connection between Javier and Paloma deepens, their playful teasing masking a burgeoning attraction that neither could deny. 

As the sun reaches its high point, harshly casting its rays across the landscape, they find themselves lost in each other, the shotgun forgotten as they head inside to escape the merciless Seminary summer heat.

“Why do you keep your gun against your lower back?” Paloma asks, sitting on top of the kitchen counter as Javier pours both of them a glass of water.

“Outta habit. Feels more comfortable and secure back there.” He hands her the glass and she thanks him softly, taking a large gulp.

He finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, his own glass in his hand as he observes her. She tilts her head back ever so slightly, the sun-kissed sheen of sweat adding a ravishing glow to her skin after spending all morning outside.

As Javier’s gaze falls upon Paloma’s exposed forearms, his heart sinks at the sight of the bruises marring her delicate skin. The memory of the chaotic scene at the church floods back—the ramblings of Mr. Thorton, consumed by grief and intoxicated by sorrow, as he roughly seized Paloma in his anguish. The bruises now serve as a reminder of that harrowing encounter, igniting a protectiveness within Javier.

“I didn’t know he grabbed onto you so harshly.” While Javi is sympathetic towards the drunken man considering the unfortunate circumstances— he shouldn’t have put his hands on her the way that he did.

Paloma’s fingers drift absently towards the bruised area, her movements gentle as she brushes over it, her shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. “It’s nothin’ compared to what they’re going through,” She murmurs softly, her voice trailing off with a tinge of melancholy. The memory of the man’s shattered demeanor weighs on her, reminding her of the profound sadness that had consumed him that day.

Despite the drunken ramblings, the accusatory tone, and the way he laid blame on the entire town for failing his daughter; she didn’t harbor any resentment towards him for his outburst.

While she acknowledges that aggressively approaching her was not the wisest choice, she understands that it was a momentary lapse fueled by grief and alcohol.

Her father had sternly lectured her when she revealed her lack of animosity towards Mr. Thorton and her willingness to forgive him despite his lack of apology. Romeo had been infuriated by his daughter’s empathy, unable to comprehend her capacity for forgiveness in the face of such an incident.

“Still, he was out of line for even—”

“He was drunk out of his mind, Javier. His daughter was brutally murdered and mutilated. Do you all just expect him and his wife to snap back to normal after a few weeks?” Paloma’s words carry an edge, her tone unintentionally sharp, but Javier can see the underlying pain in her eyes.

His own demeanor relaxes slightly, reeling as he realizes she’s not aiming her frustration at him specifically. His gaze reflects understanding rather than irritation as he silently reassures her that he had no intention of pissing her off.

“A death like that breaks families. It’s happening to the Thortons right before our very eyes.” She reflects after a pause, briefly considering the idea of confiding in Javier about her own experiences with loss, particularly concerning her mother.

She recalls the turbulent times following her mother’s death, the strain it placed on her relationship with her father, and the wounds it left in their family dynamic.

Fortunately, Romeo had managed to pull himself (somewhat) together before things escalated too far between them.

However, discussing her mother remains a sensitive topic, one that Paloma avoids whenever possible. Her suicide was a painful and perplexing event, leaving Paloma grappling with unanswered questions and a sense of profound loss.

As a confused and grief-stricken teenager, she had immersed herself in psychology texts, searching for understanding and consolation on the topic of depression and suicide, but finding nothing that truly resonated with her mother’s peculiar situation. 

She blinks, dispelling her thoughts, realizing she has no intention of burdening Javier—or anyone else, for that matter—with her baggage. The memory of her last attempt to confide in someone, the priest at church, surfaces, and she suppresses a sigh of frustration. His well-meaning yet ultimately dismissive response, a canned platitude about finding solace in God, had left her feeling even more isolated in her grief.

It honestly pissed her off.

“That’s just how it is sometimes, querida. A shitty fucking side effect to the whole thing. We can’t do anything about it.”

There’s a depth to her that she keeps carefully hidden, yet Javier can discern it with ease. It manifests in the subtle shifts of her body language, the fleeting emptiness that briefly clouds her gaze, and the sudden defensiveness she displayed when discussing the situation.

Despite her attempts to conceal it, her words are laced with emotion, carrying a weight of sentiment and understanding that hints at the complexities that lurk.

There’s a story hidden behind that guarded stare, waiting to be unveiled.

He won’t grant himself the selfish desire to be the one to unveil it. He doesn’t feel worthy of being the person Paloma entrusts with her deepest vulnerabilities, believing he doesn’t deserve such intimacy from her.

Javier’s pragmatic nature is deeply ingrained, a fundamental aspect of his character that permeates every aspect of his life. It’s a quality that serves him well in his profession, enabling him to approach his duties with efficiency and precision.

Yet, this same pragmatism often proves to be a barrier when it comes to offering comfort to others. He struggles to connect on an emotional level, his rational mind grappling with the intricacy of human emotions in a way that feels foreign to him.

While he excels in navigating practicalities, he finds himself struggling when faced with the nuances of empathy and compassion.

It’s not that Javier is devoid of either emotions; rather, he has a hard time navigating them. He possesses a depth of feeling, but lacks the finesse in managing and expressing them.

A contemplative silence settles between them, each absorbed in their own internal musings.

She feels his stare but she doesn’t waver, instead changing the subject,“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jonah Abbott’s birthday party?” 

Ah, Jonah Abbott, the remarkably young Mayor of Seminary, Texas. Descending from a lineage steeped in politics and law, his ascension to office undoubtedly owes much to familial connections and the influence of nepotism.

Javier’s disdain for him is palpable, despite only encountering the man once. Jonah had stormed into the station, insisting that everyone attend his birthday celebration. His subsequent demand for case updates and entitled behavior when things didn’t align with his expectations had left a sour taste in Javier’s mouth, solidifying his opinion of him as nothing more than an insufferable individual.

Javi had intended to skip out on the party altogether, but after Romeo practically demanded his presence there, he quickly realized that dodging the event was simply not an option.

“Unfortunately I have,” He says sardonically, finishing off his water, “Though I’d rather be anywhere else. Big parties have never been my thing, especially when the night is centered on schmoozing with asshole politicians.”

“Asshole politicians….” She smirks at him, “So you’ve met him? He’s… a piece of work. I have no idea why or how daddy tolerates him.”

Paloma doesn’t mention the many advances the man has made on her and how she’s had to politely decline him each time. He wasn’t unattractive, he held some kind of Kennedy-esque handsomeness but man was he ignorant and flashy as all hell.

His opulent mansion and foreign cars speak volumes about his personal wealth, yet she can’t help but wish he would invest as much in supporting his town as he does in his own pursuits. 

“I’ve had to deal with men like that too many times over the years. Just when you think they can’t get any worse— they do. It’s like they outdo themselves. Fuckin’ annoying pricks. They only get worse with age, too.” 

Javier’s verbal outpouring inadvertently provides Paloma with an opportunity—a chance to delve deeper into his past experiences, particularly his days with the DEA. Sensing an opening, she seizes the moment to probe for insights into his former life, hoping to gain a better understanding of the man behind the badge.

“Who’s the worst one you’ve met?”

The first name that pops into his mind is Bill Stechner. “CIA asshole back in Colombia. But you could really trade in any fucker from either government and it’d all be one in the same. They’re all contenders for worst human beings on the fuckin’ planet.”

Her brows raise in interest, “It still amazes me how you’ve literally worked such an important and uppity job. How the fuck did you end up here, cowboy?” It’s a rhetorical question but it still has him sucking in a breath.

As always, Paloma’s keen observance doesn’t go unnoticed. The spark of curiosity ignites within her, kindling a desire to unravel the layers of Javier’s enigmatic persona. Yet, she exercises caution, mindful not to overstep boundaries or pry too deeply into his guarded past.

She sets down her empty glass, hopping off the counter and smoothing her dress down. “I guess I should get outta your hair and head back into town. I had a lotta fun this mornin’. Thank you for supportin’ the library… and for teachin’ me how to shoot.” She remarks playfully with a wink as he walks her to the door.

“Well, you were a very easy student. A natural.” 

Leaning casually against the door frame, Javier’s gaze remains fixed on Paloma as she retreats backward towards her car. Despite the distance between them, their eyes never waver, locked in a silent exchange of unspoken sentiments.

“I’ll see you around.”

Javier’s gaze drifts idly over the scattered papers before him, the weight of boredom evident in the blank stare he casts upon them.

With a heavy sigh, he resigns himself to the monotony of the graveyard shift, flanked by two younger deputies who share his weary disposition. The quaint confines of the department offer little respite from the tedium, with the only source of distraction being a TV cart positioned at the center of the room, broadcasting an old Astros vs. Mets baseball game.

As the flickering images dance across the screen, Javier’s mind wanders, yearning for something—anything—to break the dullness of the night.

He’d lost interest in the game fairly quickly, turning his focus to the mound of paperwork that has steadily amassed on his desk over the past few days.

However, even the prospect of tackling the administrative tasks failed to hold his interest for long, leaving him adrift in a sea of ennui.

As he rubs at his tired eyes, preparing to rise and seek respite in a smoke break outside, the shrill ring of the phone slices through the quiet of the room. His movements freeze, instinctively drawn to answer the call that interrupts his escape.

“Seminary Sheriff’s Department.”

“Those damn kids are on my property again!”

Javier has to pull the receiver from his ear slightly as the loud yet croaky voice of Arthur Reynolds reverberates through the line.

The elderly man boasts a lineage that traces back to one of the town’s founding families. As a result, he holds vast swathes of land across the area, including a picturesque field of sunflowers that has become a local attraction.

The vibrant blooms draw the attention of passersby, who often linger to admire their beauty. However, Reynolds views their presence as an intrusion, and he isn’t shy about expressing his discontent.

Constantly vigilant, he frequently calls upon the authorities to address the perceived trespassers. Due to his advanced age rendering him incapable of intimidating others into compliance, it falls upon individuals like Javier to enforce Reynolds’ will, ensuring that his domain remains undisturbed.

“Can you be a little more specific, sir.” Javi says in a monotone voice

“How specific I gotta be? S’a group of them drinkin’ and smokin’ around a campfire. Gonna light my goddamn field ablaze. You besta come shut it down and arrest these punks before I go down there myself and cause a ruckus.”

That’s the last thing Javier needs, for the town to burn down on his watch. He begrudgingly acknowledges the validity of the old man’s complaints, recognizing that there is merit to Reynolds’ concerns for once.

“No need for that, an officer will be there soon.” As the phone call concludes, Javier briefly considers dispatching the deputies to handle the situation, viewing it as an opportunity for them to gain some experience.

However, a sense of caution tugs at him, wary of the potential risks involved in sending inexperienced officers into the field late at night. Ultimately, he opts to take matters into his own hands in case anything goes awry.

Donning his department-issued bomber jacket and ensuring his utility belt is fully equipped, Javier swiftly heads for the door. With a sense of purpose, he offers a brief explanation for his departure to the two deputies engrossed in the baseball game before stepping out into the night.

Not much after does Javier find himself navigating the winding dirt path that cuts through the heart of the sunflower field. Towering stalks of golden blooms loom on either side, casting elongated shadows in the dim light of the moon. With a flick of a switch, he illuminates the headlights of the cruiser, their beams slicing through the darkness ahead. The soft glow of a distant bonfire comes into view, beckoning him forward as he makes his way towards the source of the disturbance.

As the piercing lights of the cruiser illuminate the scene, a sense of urgency grips the group of young adults, prompting them to scatter in all directions like startled deer fleeing from a predator.

Amidst the chaos, Paloma lies sprawled on the ground on her back, her gaze fixed upon the expanse of the dark sky overhead, where the full moon casts its radiant glow upon the night.

She’d successfully snuck out of her house and into old man Reynolds’s sunflower field. August assured her they were just eight feet shy of his property line—technically absolving them of any trespassing allegations.

The appeal of an impromptu bonfire, fueled by August’s persuasive phone call the night before, proved irresistible to Paloma. It didn’t take much convincing to coax her into joining the group, the thrill of rebellion emboldening her for the night that lay ahead.

Paloma found herself indulging in more alcohol than she is accustomed to, her inhibitions loosened by the camaraderie of her friends. Peer pressure led her to experiment further, as she hesitantly joined August, Sloane, and Gabriel in sharing a joint. The unfamiliar sensation of the smoke tickled her throat, triggering a fit of coughing that betrayed her novice status in the realm of smoking weed.

“Easy, little dove.” August’s voice was gentle, his hand tracing soothing circles on Paloma’s back as she recovered from her coughing fit. With patience and care, he guided her through the process, demonstrating the proper technique for smoking. His gaze lingered on her lips as she tentatively wrapped them around the filtered tip, his attention a mixture of guidance and something more difficult to discern.

The combined effects of alcohol and weed have her feeling as if she were floating outside of her own body, disconnected from the reality unfolding around her. Time blurred and details became hazy as the evening wore on. Before she knew it, August and a select few had departed, leaving her to her own devices— a directive she barely recalls amidst her altered state.

“We’ll be back later. You just stay put and enjoy yourself.” August’s voice echoed in her mind as she found herself lost in a swirl of sensations. 

The alcohol infused her with a sense of giddiness and warmth, while the weed enveloped her in a cloud of lightness and euphoria.

The mention of cops jolt Paloma out of her intoxicated stupor, sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a sudden burst of urgency, she propels herself into a seated position, cursing under her breath as she struggles to gain her footing. Every movement feels sluggish and disjointed, as if she were wading through molasses in her attempt to confront whatever impending threat was approaching.

Had her father discovered her absence, realizing she had slipped out into the night and now found herself high as a kite?

Amidst the flurry of activity, someone had hastily extinguished the crackling flames of the bonfire, leaving her disoriented and stumbling in the darkness. With nothing but the ethereal glow of the moonlight to guide her, she found herself left in the eerie stillness of the night as she navigates the shadowy landscape.

Javier steps out of his cruiser, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the darkness as he surveys the deserted scene. The group had scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving him with an empty field and a sinking sense of slight frustration.

With a resigned sigh, he turns to head back to his vehicle, his mind already drifting towards the paperwork awaiting him back at the station.

But then, a faint sound catches his attention— a soft shuffling emanating from the darkness nearby. Instinctively, he whirls around, directing the beam of his flashlight towards the source of the noise.

His eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of Paloma, tentatively emerging from the sea of sunflowers with her hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice cuts through the night, tinged with concern and exasperation as he surveys her unsteady form. His gaze narrows as he takes in her swaying movements, a frown etching across his features. “Are you drunk?”

Her relief is palpable at the sight of Javier standing before her, his presence a welcome reprieve from the uncertainty that had gripped her moments earlier. She offers him a sheepish smile, grateful for his familiar face and not that of one of the jackass deputies.

“Er... just a little,”  She admits with a giggle, her hands lowering slowly as she squints against the harsh beam of his flashlight. “Could you, like, point that thing elsewhere? M’gonna go blind.” Her words are punctuated by a hiccup, her steps unsteady as she inches closer to him.

As she draws near, Javier catches a distinct scent in the air— the familiar aroma of smoke from the bonfire mixed with something altogether less innocent.

It’s a scent he knows all too well from his days as a DEA agent, the unmistakable odor of marijuana lingering on her. With a sinking feeling, he takes in the bloodshot, droopy eyes of the girl before him, irritation welling within him.

“Are you high, too?” He knows all too well the allure of drugs, having spent years chasing down those who peddled them on the streets. Yet, seeing her caught up in such activities strikes a chord within him, stirring up a complex mix of emotions that he struggles to reconcile.

“Maybe,” she drawls the word out, her voice laced with a playful edge. “Why? Are you a narc? Oh, wait... you are. A certified and official narc.” Her words are punctuated by another bout of giggles and hiccups, the sound grating on Javier’s nerves. It’s a familiar insult, one that cuts a little too close to home given August had called him the same thing not too long ago.

“Who were you out here with?” Javier demands, his frustration evident as he flicks off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness save for the soft glow of the moon overhead and the headlights of his car.

“Some friends,” Paloma replies with a careless shrug, her tone nonchalant. “Come on, officer, why does it matter? We were just having fun… and technically we’re eight feet from the property line so we weren’t trespassing.”

Some friends. The implication hangs heavy in the air, a not-so-subtle reminder of her recent association with August and his clique. A storm of conflicting emotions that threatens to cloud his judgment as he struggles to maintain his composure in the face of her nonchalant demeanor.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffs, “Public intoxication. Illicit drug use. Disturbance of the public peace or the peace of others. I can keep going.” His jaw clenches tightly, his words laden with the weight of authority as he lists off a litany of potential charges. Many of them are familiar to him, recurring offenses he’s seen in the files of the company she’s recently decided to keep.

She rolls her eyes dismissively, her confidence undeterred by his stern demeanor. “Oh please. We both know you’re not really going to bring me in for any of that.” she retorts, her voice dripping with of sarcasm and self-assurance.

The idea of Javier restraining her sends a thrill coursing through her veins. The image of his body pressed against hers, the sensation of the cold metal restraints encircling her wrists— it’s all too tantalizing to resist. Yet, even in her intoxicated state, a small voice of reason whispers in the back of her mind, urging her to exercise caution.

A fleeting impulse tugs at her to reach out and touch him, to feel the solid warmth of his chest beneath her fingertips. But a sobering sense of restraint holds her back, the knowledge that such a gesture would only complicate an already precarious situation.

“I’m not entertaining this. Get in the car, I’m taking you home,” He asserts, his tone firm as he turns away from Paloma, intent on ending the conversation then and there. But before he can take a single step, her hand shoots out to grasp at his elbow, her acrylic nails digging into the fabric of his bomber jacket.

“Wait, not I can’t go home yet. Not like this,” Paloma pleads, her voice tinged with desperation as she realizes the gravity of her situation. Though she’s sobered up somewhat since Javier’s arrival, the thought of sneaking back into her house in her current inebriated state fills her with dread.

His gaze flickers down to where she’s holding onto him, his expression unreadable as he weighs his options. “Shoulda thought about that before you came out here and fucked yourself up.”

Feeling a surge of annoyance bubbling up within her, she retracts her grasp, her fists clenching at her sides as she meets Javier’s gaze with steely determination. “Okay, fine. Whatever— I’ll just wait for August to come back and he’ll take me home,” she declares with defiance.

The mention of his name sparks an unexpected surge of possessiveness and jealousy within Javier, if he tightens his jaw any further; he might dislocate it. Though he tries to mask his emotions, the tension in his stance betrays his inner turmoil, leaving her to wonder what thoughts are swirling behind his unreadable facade.

“That’ll be worse for you in the off chance that you get caught. Now get in the car so we can get you some food and sober you up. I’m taking you home.” Javier asserts, his tone brooking no argument as he gestures towards the passenger seat of the still-running police cruiser.

He watches intently as she hesitates for a moment before reluctantly stomping her way around the car and sliding into the seat.

The ride into town is filled with an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of static emanating from the police radio as Javier relays updates to the officers back at the station. She sits with her arms crossed defiantly, her body angled away from him as she stares out of the window, lost in her own high thoughts.

Pulling into the diner parking lot, Javier instructs her to stay put as he exits the vehicle and disappears inside the restaurant. He quickly places an order for a simple meal, then returns with a takeaway bag in hand, his expression unreadable as he hands it to her through the open window.

Now parked at the further end of the driveway, the silhouette of the Leighton family home looms in the distance.

“Thanks for the food..” she murmurs gratefully as they lean against the closed trunk of the police cruiser, the aroma of the meal enticing her high senses as she quite literally begins to devour its contents.

Javier remains silent, allowing the tension from earlier to gradually dissipate as they stand together in the quiet stillness of the night. The only sounds that fill the air are the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Feeling more like herself now, she greedily slurps the remaining contents of her root beer through the straw before setting it aside. She waits for a moment, studying Javier’s side profile before offering an apology.

“I shouldn’t have gotten such an attitude with you back there. You were just doing your job... and if it makes you feel any better, this is the first time I’ve done anything like this.” She confesses, her tone tinged with sincerity.

He runs his knuckles along his jaw, briefly glancing over at her and meeting her gaze. He can’t help but soften at her words, releasing some of the tension that had been coiled within him.

“Just looking out for you. You never know what kind of mess you’ll get into with a crowd like that,” he admits, his tone gentle yet firm. 

“A crowd like that?” She repeats, brows furrowing slightly and feeling a twinge of offense on behalf of August and the others.

“Let’s not be daft, querida. Your friends like trouble— what lost twenty-something-year old doesn’t? I’m not trying to piss you off, I’m just being realistic.”

She just hums in acknowledgement, choosing to focus on the remaining fry in her container to avoid further confrontation.

“You ever been in love, cowboy?” Paloma’s sudden question feels like a punch in the gut, catching him off guard.

He stumbles over his words, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in conversation. “I— sorry, how did we go from that,” he gestures vaguely to their previous discussion, “to this?”

“By changing the subject. I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she replies nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she crumples up her napkin and tosses all her trash into the takeaway bag.

Javier pokes his tongue against his cheek, contemplating her question for a moment before reaching for the cigarettes in the inside pocket of his jacket. What the hell, he’ll indulge her. “Yes... no... I don’t know,” he finally answers, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag.

“All of the above?” She tilts her head, adjusting her denim mini skirt and straightening her cropped camisole.

Javier inhales deeply before continuing. “Before I left for Colombia, I was set to get married.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she leans in closer, eager for more details. “What happened?” she asks, her curiosity palpable as she watches him intently.

The Javier Peña, known for his charismatic ways and romantic escapades, suddenly bound to one woman in the most profound display of commitment. Oh, she’s intrigued beyond measure.

“Couldn’t go through with it. I thought I loved her, Lorraine, but then I realized that I just loved the idea of her. Couldn’t see myself spending the rest of my life at her side so I spared her all the bullshit and drama and just left…” He cringes slightly, flicking off some ash. “Left her at the altar the day of the wedding. Drove straight past the chapel and to the airport. Flew to Quantico for training and a few months later I was in Colombia.”

She listens intently, her heart aching with empathy for the man who stands before her, baring his soul in a rare moment of vulnerability.

His story hangs heavy in the air. The ember of his cigarette glows in the darkness, casting shadows across his face as he speaks.

She recalls her own brush with heartbreak, the sting of abandonment still fresh in her memory. The parallels between their experiences are both eerie and comforting.

“So you were her George,” She murmurs, her voice soft with understanding.

Javier nods, his expression a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah. I guess. When you told me what you had gone through that night, I felt so bad. I still do. Me and Lorraine have talked things out since. She’s actually married now. Has two kids and a loving husband. He was able to give her all the things I knew I couldn’t.”

“It’s funny how life works out,” she muses, her voice carrying a hint of empathy. “You both found what you needed in the end, I suppose.”

He nods, exhaling a cloud of smoke that dissipates into the night air. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, the weight of the shared revelations hanging between them. It’s moments like these that reveal the depth of their connection, beyond the surface banter and flirtation.

“And after Lorraine? Was there anyone else you fell for? A lover in Colombia?”

Her name echoes in his mind like a haunting melody, each syllable laced with memories of their tangled past. Helena. Their relationship had begun as nothing more than a transaction, a simple exchange of information for physical intimacy. But as time passed, their bond deepened, evolving into something he never expected.

Helena had been different from the others, a beacon of light in the darkness of his days in Colombia. She listened to him, truly listened, offering comfort and understanding when the weight of his job threatened to crush him. In her arms, he found refuge from the storm raging within him, a sanctuary where he could lay bare his soul without fear of judgment.

But their idyllic bubble was shattered by the harsh realities of their world. The fallout from the Gacha debacle had left Helena broken and vulnerable, a stark reminder of the dangers they faced every day. Javier wrestled with his feelings for her, torn between his duty and his desire to protect her. Yet, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shield her from the horrors that awaited her.

As he recalls their tumultuous journey together, Javier is plagued by a sense of guilt and regret. He had failed her, failed to keep her safe from the darkness that had consumed the country. And now, her name serves as a painful reminder of his shortcomings, haunting him like a ghost from his past.

“No. Just a long string of meaningless sex. Didn’t have the time or energy to date anyone. The job was too demanding for it.”

She reaches out tentatively, resting a hand on his arm. “Well… Thanks for sharing with me. I know how difficult it can be to open up like that,” She says softly, flashing him a small smile.

He meets her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Of course, hermosa.”

As she straightens up from leaning against his cruiser, a soft sigh escapes her lips, carrying with it a hint of resignation. “I think I’m ready to sneak back in now.”

He nods in acknowledgment as he takes a final drag of his cigarette. Exhaling a plume of smoke, he crushes the butt under the sole of his boot. “Right. We’ll keep this night between the two of us, yeah?”

She responds with a nod, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. She gets back in the car, ready to get into her bed.

He starts the engine, the soft purr of the car’s motor blending with the nocturnal symphony of crickets and cicadas. As they roll down the driveway, he keeps the lights off, wary of getting caught.

It’s not the first time he’s had to sneak a girl back home.

Just as they near the end of the driveway, she curses softly, a sudden realization dawning upon her. Slapping her palm against her forehead, she lets out an exasperated sigh, prompting Javier to glance at her quizzically.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need the ladder to get back upstairs. The lattice fence broke when I snuck out earlier.” She completely forgot about the mishap, it had almost woken her father up.

“Do you need help getting it?”

“…Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

So they sneak around to the backyard, the metallic finish of the elongated ladder gleaming beneath the growing grass that surrounds it. It reminds Paloma that she needs to mow the lawn soon.

As she bends down to grab it, she feels a sudden, unexpected sensation slithering against her leg. Panic rises within her, her muscles tensing in preparation to let out a guttural scream, but before any sound can escape her lips— a strong hand clamps over her mouth, muffling any noise.

She freezes, heart pounding in her chest, as she glances wide-eyed at Javier.

“It’s just a garter snake, nena, it’s not going to hurt you.”

A warm glow then spills from inside the house, casting long shadows across the backyard.

Paloma’s heart leaps into her throat, her pulse quickening as she envisions her father stepping out onto the porch, his stern gaze piercing through the darkness.

With a sense of urgency, Javier gently pulls her back into the comforting embrace of the shadows, his touch a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos of their clandestine escapade.

Their bodies press close together as they hold their breath, hoping to remain unseen.

Her lips are still against his palm while his other hand has a firm hold on her hip. His thumb instinctively traces slow, soothing circles against her skin. It fires up every nerve of her body.

After what seems like an eternity, a soft, distant sound of a flush is heard, followed by a click as the light flickers off.

In unison, they both release the tension they had been holding, his hand gently sliding away from her face as she exhales deeply.

Neither of them attempt to move for a split second, and it’s not until she pulls away that he’s brought back down to Earth.

“Fuck— that was close.”

An electric tension crackles between them, infusing every movement with a heady rush of anticipation. Wordlessly, they resume their task, the air thick with both desire and apprehension.

Each touch, each shared glance teeters on the precipice of control.

It’s a delicate dance, teeming with an unspoken longing that threatens to overflow, begging to be unleashed in the quiet intimacy of the night.

Once Javier is sure that the ladder is steady enough for her to climb, he takes a step back to make room for her.

“Alright, princesa, up the tower you go.”

She doesn’t say anything, her gaze remains fixed on him, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them before she begins her ascent up the ladder.

She makes it up a few steps before she stops and turns to face him fully.

In a bold move, Paloma reaches out, her fingertips delicately curling around the collar of his jacket. With a gentle tug, she draws him closer, her lips meeting his in a fervent kiss.

Caught off guard, he momentarily freezes, but the warmth of her touch and the intensity of her kiss quickly erases any hesitation. In an instant, they’re lost in each other, their lips moving with a fiery urgency, igniting the flame that has been smoldering between them.

Everything else fades away, leaving only the two of them lost in a sea of passion and desire. With each kiss, they explore each other’s mouths. Licking, sucking, biting; it’s better than anything either of them could have ever imagined.

She can’t help but moan softly into his mouth at the way his hands move over her body. Every caress feels like a promise of pleasure to come, and she surrenders completely to Javier.

His muscles tense as he pulls her closer, his touch becoming more urgent. His fingers trace her curves, lingering on the places that make her gasp with pleasure. She can’t help but arch her back, pressing herself even closer to him, desperate for more.

As their bodies meld together, there is sense of completion that they’ve never experienced before. It’s as if they were always meant to be together, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

Reluctantly, she pulls back first leaving him yearning for more as he reaches out, chasing after her lips.

Their fervent kisses have left his mouth slightly swollen and lips glistening, adorned with remnants of her saliva, evidence of the passion with which they had indulged in each other.

Her eyes are swimming with lust as she brushes some of his hair to the side, “I had to,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a murmur; filled with affection and sincerity,  “just once.”

Her words carry a weight of longing and vulnerability, a confession of the depth of her emotions for him.

“Buenas noches, Javi.”

The fuckin angst, the tension, that fucking KISS….it felt like it was happening to me I couldn’t fucking breathe lollll like Paloma yesss girl fluster that man 🙂‍↕️

Standing ovation 😵‍💫

⤷ sabor a mi part 2 - ex husband!Javier Peña x f!reader

Javier catches your eyes, his lips curving to match yours. He shifts – carefully of his sleeping child – and places his hand in between the two of you, his palm up. An offer to hold his hand.

You hesitate to overthink it. If you take his hand, you’re letting him back into your life intimately. If you don’t take it, he’ll think it’s a cold shoulder and possibly retreat on everything he’s been doing lately.

Fuck, who are you kidding? Javier’s never going to give up on you, whether you want him to or not. You’re the only person he’s ever loved and it’ll stay that way forever, you think.

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. The warmth of his palm shoots straight through you, reminding you of the good days. 

He rubs his thumb along your knuckles, a contemplative look on his face. You wait, wanting him to ask on his own time instead of pushing him. That’s something major that your therapist taught you when it came to you and Javier’s tempers. Both of you are too stubborn to ever admit that you’re wrong, so you argue. Nine times out of ten, those arguments ended with sleeping in different rooms.

You were such different people back then. It feels like a lifetime ago when you were dating through high school and college. Both of you had high ambitions and thought you could conquer the world together.

But then his job got in the way.

You don’t think that could happen again, but you also know Javier. He can’t sit still for five minutes and constantly needs to be doing something. He’d deny it but you know he misses the DEA. Maybe not the bureaucratic part of the job, but definitely the thrill of the chase.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft and quiet.

“Honestly?” you meet his eyes again, your voice matching his tone, “Your job… and how we were before it got in the way.”

He nods faintly, not taking his eyes off of you. Subconsciously, you shift under his gaze, your skin suddenly feeling hot to the touch.

“Do you think we could ever go back to that?” he whispers, thunder rumbling and rattling the glasses in your cabinet. “Be that in love again?”

⤷ haunted part 5 - Javier Peña x OFC

Before you look in the next place, you close the door to your room, not wanting anyone to walk in on you. In the old house, you had a loose floorboard in your room that you’d hide things under. The new house didn’t have that so you had to lift one yourself.

You press your stocking-covered foot against one side, the other lifting with ease. The things you have under there are all things none of your family need to see: your gun, wads of U.S. dollars, the bag Javier gave you, a pocket knife, and other items you’d need if you were to leave. 

It’s not there either so you move on to your closet, pulling out the duffel bag you used when you ran away some years ago. You remember tossing jewelry into the bag without really looking at it. Maybe you tossed the ring in here and didn’t realize.

Relief floods your senses when you find it in a side pocket, slipping it onto your finger with ease. It finally fits, the singular pearl white and shiny. You fidget with the band, staring down at it on your finger. Like you thought, it goes with the bracelet perfectly.

In a way, wearing Sara’s things makes you feel closer to her; like you’re keeping her beautiful spirit alive through yourself.

If she was still here, would you still be going through with this?

Your mother was innocent all the way to her death, but a part of you still wonders.

“Vas a convertirte en una mujer muy fuerte (You’re going to grow into such a strong woman),” she told you once. Tear tracks streaked your face and she wiped them away with the pad of her thumb.

You didn’t want her to go; the two of you were supposed to have more time together. When she’d repeat to you that it was just her time, it made you frustrated at everything: the world, her, yourself – it didn’t matter. The most important person in your life was being taken and you had no control over it.

You miss her tremendously and you wonder if she’d be proud of the things you’ve done in life.

Eventually, you get up to go downstairs, but you stop in your doorway. Your father’s office door is ajar, no sound coming from inside of it. Briefly, you get an idea, looking back at the loose floorboard in your room.

“That is a transmitter. I need you to plant it for me.”

Javier’s words repeat in your mind, making you realize that you never went through with it.

After grabbing the transmitter, you slip into your father’s office, finding it empty for once. Quickly, you move over to his desk, noticing a thick file on top of it. You flop down in his leather chair, looking for an unnoticeable spot to plant the bug. Though, your eyes keep landing on the file, curiosity gnawing at you despite you knowing better.

You pull open the middle drawer, feeling under it to see if there’s any dead space you could put it in. You study the bug, trying to figure out how to turn it on. It’s all confusing to you but you just press the obvious red button in the middle. It flashes at you, signaling that it’s on.

“Javi?” you ask quietly, knowing that you’re not going to get an answer back. “I don’t know if this thing is on, but if it is, I did what you asked,” you murmur, sticking it on the bottom of the drawer.

“¿Qué haces aquí dentro? (What are you doing in here?)” the sound of your father’s voice makes you jump out of your skin, slamming the drawer shut.

Yet here you are—propped up on the edge of it with your legs tossed over his shoulders, his face buried deep between them as he brings you to the edge for the third time tonight. He seems to revel in the way he takes you to the brink of pleasure only to leave you in limbo, barely hanging on by a lousy thread.

You don’t know how or when he learned your body so quickly—the ins and outs of you that make your chest heave and your body shudder as you chant his name—but now that he has, you don’t think you ever want him to stop.

And he doesn’t seem to want to stop either.

He has become your entire summer. The time you’d usually spend taking weekend trips to the coast or going out to tear up town with your friends has fallen by the wayside—all of your free time completely encompassed by him. When you’re with him, you want time to stand still. And when you’re not with him you’re constantly thinking about when you’ll see him again.

……..........................................................

The first time he showed up at the bar where you work wasn’t anything special. It was like any other early summer night in south Texas and your bar was like any other typical watering hole in the area.

He could’ve wound up at any of them but he landed in front of you.

He walked in like a slow roll of thunder during a late night summer storm as it blows in on a warm gust. One that hesitates for a beat after a blinding flash of lightning off in the distance. Nothing loud or flashy—he didn’t have any need to call attention to himself—just a steady presence that rumbled with something more just under the surface.

His eyes were a deep chocolate brown. It’s the first thing you noticed about him. They had something so warm and inviting yet guarded behind them when he looked up at you to order. You didn’t realize the two characteristics could co-exist.

Out of the curiosity that comes when a fresh face walks in, you’d asked him that first night what brought him to your bar specifically. He said you carried a Colombian beer he liked and couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Oh? How’d you first try it? Was it here? Maybe before I started?”

“No,” he said as he took a swig from his bottle.

“‘No’ That’s all I get? It’s not exactly a common one—at least not around here. My boss just happens to be somewhat of a beer connoisseur,” you probed as you wiped down the bartop.

“Well then—I just so happen to be a beer connoisseur myself,” he huffed as he placed a cigarette between his lips.

You tossed him a matchbook. “Strange coincidence,” you said with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“Guess so,” he ripped a match against the striker and placed the flame to the tip of his cigarette until it scorched the white paper with the hue of freshly burning tobacco.

You didn’t press him any further. You’re well versed in the business of making small talk that comes with being a bartender.

And you also know when someone wants to be left alone.

He’d come and gone nearly as quickly as your conversation. After his second cigarette and the single beer, he’d left while you were chatting with one of your regulars—his spot at the bar replaced with cash for the drink and your service.

……..........................................................

At this point in the night, you’re hot, sweaty, frustrated. You have no idea what time it is or how long he’s been denying you your release. All you know is you’ve never been so fucking desperate to come. When he said he was going to take his time with you tonight you didn’t think it would involve so much…torture. Every pass of his tongue through your folds makes you dizzy with lust, your core fluttering and squeezing tight when he pushes a finger or two between them teasingly.

He had positioned his standing mirror directly in front of where he knew he was going to have you for the night. He wanted to make sure you’d be able to see how much of a fucking wreck you are when he’s got you like this. Anytime your head has dipped since he started to work you, he’s made sure to tip your chin back up to exactly where he wants you to focus.

So, you look up again at the reflection in front of you. Your skin, dewy from the sickly summer humidity, practically glows in the soft lighting of his room. Your lips stay permanently parted as he draws little gasps and moans from you. You wish you could say your hair is perfectly sex-toussled, but there’s nothing perfect about it as it plasters itself to the sweat on your neck and cheek. Your favorite part of the reflection though, is the way the muscles of his back look like perfectly sculpted art from the way the warm lighting casts dramatic shadows through his room. You whimper quietly every time his shoulders flex when he repositions you as he pleases.

You watch with your jaw dropped open as his hand caresses up your body to roll a peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your brows furrow as you cry out in a pathetic whine that you expect him to understand.

Whether he cares though is a different story.

“What’s wrong, hermosa?” He rasps before he nips lightly against your inner thigh.

“Javi, please,” you pant above him, your body involuntarily rolling, desperate for friction. “I need to come.”

……..........................................................

The next time he showed up, your back was turned to the door as you counted the pallets of beer that had been delivered that morning. You instinctively greeted him with the standard “hey welcome in, be with you in just a sec,” when you’d heard the rusty bell above the door ring.

After you’d finished your pre-rush inventory, you turned around only to be met with those same brown eyes that had caught your attention the last time you saw him. He seemed more on edge tonight than before as he sat there fidgeting with a paper coaster, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the bar.

“Oh, hey there! Welcome back….” You trailed as you waited for him to fill in the silence with his name you didn’t happen to catch before.

“Javi,” he said with a dip of his head.

“Javi,” you smile. “Seems like you could use somethin’ a little stronger to take the edge off tonight?” You suggested.

“What makes you say that?”

“That coaster was fresh before you sat down,” you leaned against the bar in front of him, playfully plucking the destroyed cardboard between your fingers.

“Shit. Sorry,” he laughed under his breath.

“I’m just teasin’,” you drawled as you flung the mangled paper into the trash. “What’re you havin’ tonight, honey?”

His first and second rounds, he ordered the same beer that had initially drawn him in, but as the night went on he switched to whiskey which he seemed to savor longer.

For the first part of the night, the bar was slammed—a typical Saturday. It didn’t leave you much room to converse, only checking in with him when he needed a refill, but you could still feel his eyes on you as you buzzed around the bar through the rush.

Lucky for you, the switch up of booze and the time it had to settle into him gave you more of an opportunity to get him talking. He finally seemed somewhat relaxed compared to when he first sat down.

The end of the rush has always been your favorite time of the night. The bar settles into such a calming energy. You get a breather plus a chance to actually talk to your regulars—but tonight your focus is all on him.

“Felt your eyes burnin’ a hole in me all night, Javi. You got somethin’ to say finally?” You gave him a sly glance as you removed a fresh batch of glasses from the dishwasher.

He smirked at your call-out, “was it that obvious?”

“Maybe not to some people, but I’m very observant,” you flirted.

“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled and pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, extending it out to you in an offer you politely declined.

“I sure am,” you smiled at him and leaned over to rest your elbows against the bar. You took note of the way his eyes dropped to your cleavage despite how brief it was—another part of bartending you’ve grown accustomed to. You usually play it up anyways since a glimpse of tit gets you more tip money but you didn’t want Javi’s money.

You wanted his attention.

“I guess I do have a question for you,” he rasped as he flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. “What the fuck are you doing in this place?”

“Uhh bartendin’?” you looked around confused.

“No, not in the bar,” he laughed, “in Laredo. Not much going on here unless you’re a farmer or stay-at-home mom,” he took a drag from his cigarette as he studied you.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” you laughed, “Okay…I’ll tell you—but—you have to promise not to laugh at me,” you said in a hushed voice.

“I don’t usually make promises but I guess I can make an exception for you,” he shot back.

Your cheeks grew hot with a quick flush, suddenly much more nervous with all of his focus on you. He seemed kind but even in his kindness he was laced with a quiet intensity that equally made you cautious and curious for more.

“Uhm well, it’s really not that interestin’—moved here from Dallas for a boy. He broke my heart. Took this job while I worked on figurin’ out what I wanted to do next—get back on my feet—and now here it is 3 years later and I still have no fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’. Tale as old as time, I guess,” you shrug.

“His loss,” he said as he flicked more ash into the tray in front of him.

“Damn straight,” you shot back proudly. “Now, what about you? I gave you somethin’ you gotta return the favor,” you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and topped him off—a friendly bit of encouragement to get him to stay just a bit longer.

He leaned back in his chair, cigarette hanging from his lips, “Well, what I give back to you all depends…what do you wanna know?”

“Hmm, I finally got your name earlier, so I suppose I’ll move on with the standard script— where ya from?” you leaned back onto the corner of the bar next to where he sat.

“I’m from here—from Laredo,” he said before taking a swig of fresh whiskey.

“Oh—really?” You asked quizzically.

“Is that hard to believe or something?” He chuckled.

“No, it’s just—are you a farmer? You don’t seem the type,” you said with an inquisitive brow raised. His clothes and hair were much too clean and neat compared to your regular clientele.

“Not exactly, but my Pops has a ranch. He’s getting older so I’ve been helping him out,” he shrugged.

“Aww, bless. You’re a good son, Javi,” you said as you reached over the bar to give him a playful pat on the shoulder. “Wait…Javi—are you Chucho Peña’s Javi?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I am,” he leaned forward to stub out his cigarette into the ashtray, seemingly somewhat bashful that you made the connection with no other information.

“Well, I guess that explains a lot,” it rolled off your tongue, sounding worse than you intended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He huffed in amusement.

“Oh! Nothing bad! Not at all! I’ve just, ya know, heard some things while out and about. You’re kinda famous around here I guess.”

“Famous, huh?” he questioned sarcastically.

“Don’t worry. I don’t get starstruck,” you winked.

“Small-town bullshit,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I’ve come to learn all about it—it’s a lot more political than I expected,” you laughed.

“They gotta figure out where to put you in the hierarchy so they know how much shit they’re allowed to talk about you. It’s serious business,” he said with a raised eyebrow before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“Well, you don’t seem to have that problem. You’re basically the king aren’t ya?” you teased.

“It’s not so easy being at the top, you know. That’s when they talk the most shit,” he trailed off before continuing, “so, what else have you heard?”

You felt his energy shift—not enough to be outwardly noticeable to others, but you could tell he was at least a little worried about what you might say despite his nonchalance.

“Uhm, well—I know you worked in law enforcement here before leaving to join the DEA…” you started.

“That it?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, no,” you paused and cautiously weighed how to continue, but he gave a reassuring glance that it was okay for you to complete your thought.

“I also heard you left your fiancé at the altar a while back,” your face twisted up like you were bracing for impact.

“Fuck, they still talk about that?” He huffed and squirmed in his seat.

“Yeah, I’m sorry! I really didn’t wanna say, Javi—didn’t wanna make you feel bad,” you laughed and brought your hands up to cover your face sheepishly.

“Didn’t wanna make me feel bad?” he said, shocked.

“Well, yeah? I mean, you musta had your reasons—I don’t know, it’s none of my business,” you shrugged and waved it off.

The longer you talked the more you realized that despite the face he shows outwardly, he’s actually softly charming and funny—able to go back and forth with you with relative ease. Didn’t hurt that he was handsome as hell either. You wondered why he walked around like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders all the time—or at least the times you’d seen him.

“Aye! Left you a lil’ somethin’ down at the end of the bar, sweetheart,” you heard someone call out behind you.

“Oh, shit, Larry! I thought you’d left ages ago. Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you clasped your hands over your heart.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Luisa’s out front to get me anyways. I’ll see ya next week, darlin’,” he shot you both a knowing wink and was out the door.

“Shit,” you whispered when you turned back to Javi, “I really fuckin’ forgot about him,” you giggled.

“We’re gonna be the talk of the town now,” Javi sighed.

“Especially if Luisa gets a whiff,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “Well, I better let you get goin’ before they can make up any more gossip fodder. I should’ve started closin’ up a half hour ago,” you said as you took his empty glass and placed it in the sink.

“The owner makes you close up alone?” He stood up from his seat to lean against the bar.

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” you rounded the bar and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder before wiping his chair down and stacking it on the bar top.

He followed your lead and started to stack chairs on tables across from you.

“What’re you doin’, Javi? Get outta here it’s late,” you waved him on.

“Which is exactly why I’m staying to help you. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be in here alone this late,” he said as he stacked another set of chairs.

You hold it together just enough to not let his complement get the better of your independent spirit even if you were screaming inside.

“Baby, this is Texas. I’m armed,” you shot back with a smirk.

……..........................................................

He slinks up from the floor, never coming to a full stand as he pushes you up the bed with heated, sloppy kisses. Your hands instinctively fly up to tangle in his soft brown locks as you nip at his bottom lip.

He groans above you, finally giving you the first glimpse of how gone he is at this point too. Now that he’s not buried between your thighs, you can see how glazed over in pleasure his eyes are, his pupils blown out wide to the point you can’t see their chocolate brown at all.

“Fuck, Javi,” you pant and reach out to start slowly stroking him. He hisses followed by a low groan as he pulses in your hand. “You know you didn’t have to wait this long? Didn’t have to do this to yourself,” you coo.

“Wanted to see how far both of us could go before fucking losing it,” he captures your lips with his and teases the tip of his tongue at your top lip. You gasp and part your lips so you can roll your tongue against his languidly.

“Who’s winnin’?” It drips from your lips like honey as you stop pumping him to plunge two fingers into your aching pussy.

“Ohh fuck,” he moans as he looks down in awe at where you gather your slick and use it to slowly start pumping his thick length.

You watch with kiss-swollen lips, parted in raw desire as his brow furrow in concentration as he starts to fuck your hand.

“Need you inside me, Javi,” you pant as you squeeze him, “need to feel you.”

He groans as he leans forward to kiss you heatedly. You breathe into him and trap him close to you by pulling at the waves at the back of his head. He drags his tongue lazily against yours, mirroring the way he drags his throbbing cock through your soaked entrance.

“This what you need, pretty girl?” he taunts against your lips as he pushes his swollen tip through your folds.

“Yes, more, please,” you beg in a pant.

“You want more?” he says as he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger to force you to look at him. You look up at him lazily through your lashes, eyes half-lidded and clouded with need as you nod and arch your back into him.

Without a word, he licks your bottom lip and has you chasing his kiss before unexpectedly flipping you over onto all fours before your brain can even process it.

You let out a surprised whine as he spreads his hand across your back and presses your chest down into the mattress. He slips his other arm under your hips to support your weight and so your ass is up and on full display for him.

He groans from deep in his chest at the filthy sight in front of him. He rubs his thumb tantalizingly slowly through your puffy folds and all you can do is whine and squirm beneath him as another wave of arousal floods you.

“Fuck, hermosa, look at you,” he rasps as he spreads your cheeks apart. The sound of your pussy lips separating drags quiet moans from both of you.

He keeps a hand on your upper back so that you stay pressed into the mattress as he starts to tease you again, pushing his tip in slowly through your slit, mesmerized as your needy pussy tries to pull him in.

“Tell me what you want,” he groans as he ruts against you, barely holding it together himself.

You squirm under him as you try to push yourself back onto his cock, “please fuck me, Javi, fuck—please.”

“You’re so fucking wet for me, hermosa, think you can take it all at once?” he murmurs against your skin as he leans over to leave hot kisses against your back.

“Yes…I can, I can,” you babble against the bedsheets.

You hear him adjust his stance behind you as he positions his hands on your hips. He squeezes the soft flesh there hard as he pulls you back onto him and thrusts forward until he’s buried in your fluttering pussy to the base.

Primal sounds rip deeply from both of your throats as he settles inside you. Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming relief of finally being so fucking full of him.

He pulls his hips back almost completely as he hisses and moans behind you, entranced by the way your slick shines and covers his entire shaft. When you’re about to beg him for more, he slides back inside you with one slow but forceful thrust, punching the air from your lungs.

He slowly starts to pick up his pace, dragging in and out of you against that spot that makes you lose your breath and see stars.

“Ohh,” a drawn out moan leaves your lips and fills the space of his room. It spurs him on more, gradually thrusting harder with every sweet sound that you bless his ears with.

“Taking me so well, hermosa. Jesus fucking Christ,” he grunts as his hips stutter, your sign that he’s barely hanging on the same as you.

……..........................................................

A couple weeks later when he showed again, you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at the sight of him walking through the door—a nervous surge of excitement at seeing him again.

“Well hey stranger! Thought you’d left me for good,” you said with a million watt smile plastered on your face.

It was an extra hot late July evening. Wearing as little clothes as possible without being an indecent exposure case was basically a life skill here. You had shimmied your way into a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a tight white scoop neck cropped tank. You figured the way the shorts hugged your curves would rack up the tips tonight, at least. You’d been too rushed and irritated to bother with your hair or makeup, so you left your place with your waves wild from the humidity and nothing but the glow of your own sweat on your face.

It didn’t seem to deter Javi from raking his eyes over you from top to bottom as he crossed the floor to take his seat at the bar. You couldn’t help yourself from doing the same to him. His shirt was unbuttoned even lower than usual and the sheen of sweat that glistened across his freckled chest sent your mind to places you weren’t proud of.

“I could never,” he rasped, “came out in this heatwave just to see you.”

“Oh please, you came for the finest whiskey in town,” you teased with a side eye as you grabbed a rocks glass from under the bar and started to pour.

“And to see you,” he smirked as you slid the glass over to him.

“Sure,” you said with a playful eye roll, “So where ya been? Anything fun happen?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it fun,” he said, swirling his drink, “I was traveling around the state—going on job interviews.”

You laughed to yourself at the way he said it like it was the most painful thing he’s ever had to do.

“Interviews huh? You gettin’ antsy at the ranch?” You probed as you leaned your hip against the bar to get comfortable.

He chuckled low, “No, it’s just—I’ve also been trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. The ranch is mostly temporary.”

“Well, look at us. Two wanderin’ souls—at least you’re takin’ action. What kinda jobs you interviewin’ for?”

“Teaching jobs, actually. At whichever university will take me—but I’d prefer it to be one that’s closer by so I can still be at the ranch when my Pops needs me.”

“Oh that’s great Javi!” you reached across the bar to put your hand on top of his, “I’m sure any and all of ‘em would be lucky to have you. I bet there’s a lot you could teach those kids.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he smiled, “I’ve got a bunch of bullshit stored up here I don’t need anymore. Figured I could do something useful with it,” he said as he pointed to his head.

“Well, you just let me know when they all call you back with offers and I’ll treat ya to a night of drinks on me,” you assured with a wink as you skated away to take another customer’s order.

Throughout the night, you both continually caught each other’s eye. Nearly any time you turned around from helping another patron, he was already watching you. You gave small smiles at first, which he’d return. Sometimes he’d look away, embarrassed that you kept catching him, but then something in you shifted. You’d been keeping things friendly between the two of you, but you wanted to push your luck just a bit more to see how he’d react.

You swayed over to the tap to refill a beer and caught his eye again, except this time you looked at him with more fire behind your eyes. It elicited a curious eyebrow raise from him and a barely concealed smirk as he brought his glass to his lips. You turned around to serve the beer to its rightful customer before you turned back around in Javi’s direction, bottom lip pulled in between your teeth, ready to make a move when you froze in place.

You ex.

Your eyes got big, the lip that had been pulled between your teeth now dropped open in shock. Javi looked at you, confused at the direction your cat and mouse game took, before he turned around to see a man standing at the entrance of the bar staring directly at you. A wave of cold ran through your body as he lurked there, waiting for a reaction.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between Javi and this ghost from your past. Part of you wanted to run to Javi—something about him screamed protective to you—yet, another part didn’t want to give your ex the satisfaction of running to another man for help.

You looked over at Javi as you tried to hide the anxiety thrumming through you.“Um, excuse me just a minute,” you said.

You marched over to him, catching his elbow in your hand to guide him back outside. "Mateo, what the fuck are you doing here?” you gritted through your teeth.

“Wanted a beer. Figured I hit up the bar where I have a connection,” he said smugly.

“You showed up here—at my bar—expecting to get free booze? Unbelievable,” you shook your head and crossed your arms, closing yourself off.

“C’mon baby don’t be like that,” he reached out to touch your face. You turned your head away from him in disgust.

“I’m not your baby and you’re not gettin’ anything from me, so get the fuck out of here and don’t come back,” you said sternly.

The two of you went back and forth quietly outside as he tried to appeal to the part of you he knew he’d hurt. It used to work on you when you actually still loved him. You gave him so much of your heart—your life— that he never deserved in the first place.

He wasn’t about to get anything else from you.

You subtly peeked back through the open door of the bar to see if anyone was standing around, possibly waiting to pay or for a refill—anything that you could use as a reason to get out of having this interaction last any longer—when you saw Javi turned around in his chair, watching everything go down.

You turned your focus back to Mateo who had been blabbing on even though you hadn’t been paying any attention.

“Look, can you just—shut the fuck up? I don’t know what you expected to happen here but it’s not going to. Whether its free booze or gettin’ back in my good graces—not gonna happen,” you raised your voice with the hope that he’d understand you’re not fucking around—that you’d get louder if you needed to.

“Pretty rude to tell a guest to shut the fuck up don’t ya think?” he took a step towards you, forcing you to take two backwards.

“You’re not a fuckin’ guest, you’re a trespasser,” you spit back.

“Just let me talk to you,” he said as he reached out to grab your arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you yelled as you jerked your arm from his grip.

“Is there a problem here?” Javi rasped as he lit up a cigarette, slowly slinking his way over to you.

“The fuck do you care? Who the fuck even are you? Some customer? She’s not gonna fuck you, pendejo,” Mateo chuckled.

Javi huffed out a sardonic laugh before taking a long drag of his smoke, his confidence never wavering as he looked down his nose at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mateo? Who says somethin’ like that to somebody?” You shoved his shoulder before turning towards Javi, “I’m sorry Javi—go ahead back inside. I’ll take care of this.”

“Are you sure?” Javi said gently. His gaze never broke from yours. He was determined to make sure that when you said you were fine, you really, truly were.

“Yes, it's okay,” you said with an exhale, “nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before.”

He looked at you softly, his deep brown eyes rounded with quiet concern for you. You couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at you like that and you barely even knew him. You felt your chest swell at the realization he might care for you at little more than you thought as he walked back to the entrance of the bar. He didn’t go back inside, but instead, leaned by the door frame casually to keep a watchful eye as he smoked.

You turned your attention back to Mateo. “You need to leave. I have to get back to fuckin’ work,” you said with an exhausted eye roll.

“Yeah, okay. Head back to your dead-end life as a small-town bartender. You’re really gonna go far,” he scoffed.

“Oh, fuck you,” you pointed your finger into his chest,” You’re the reason why I even had to take this job! Or did you forget that you dragged me here just to implode my life when somethin’ new and shiny came along? You don’t get to bulldoze your way back into my life cause she likely dumped your sorry ass. Now go on and get the fuck on away from my bar like the fuckin’ dawg you are before I call the cops.”

He stared you down in silence. He knew you were right. There was no way to dispute it. You weren’t the same sad sack he’d left broken and crying on the floor of your shared apartment three years ago.

“Yeah. Got nothin’ to say, huh?” you smirked, “your car is that way you stupid son of a bitch,” you pointed in the direction of his truck.

He walked away with his tail between his legs and one last look back which was met with a stern middle finger from you.

“Sorry piece of shit,” you huffed as you walked back to the front door where Javi was waiting. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. God, that's embarrassin’.”

“So that was the guy?” He chuckled.

“Hey, don’t judge, okay. I was young and stupid—very stupid. Probably still am for the way he can still upset me all this time later,” you sighed as the two of you walked back to the bar.

Javi hopped back up in his chair, “I definitely have no room to judge—but I know you aren’t stupid for loving someone who pulled the wool over your eyes,” he looked up at you with complete sincerity.

“Thanks, Javi,” you said as you reached across the bar top to place a gentle hand on top of his. You didn’t realize you’d lingered a bit too long until he started to rub his thumb lightly against your skin.

You gasped quietly, coming back into your consciousness. “Sorry, uhm—let me get you another drink.”

As you walked to the center of the bar, you picked up the cleared tabs and tips along the way. There were a couple of stragglers chatting by the door as they worked towards saying their goodbyes for the night.

Once they left, it was just you and Javi.

You grabbed the bottle of whiskey and made your way back over to him, pouring it slowly, “tell me when,” you sighed, exhausted. You couldn’t be fucked to care at this point if he took a little extra, but to your surprise he told you to stop at his usual order of two fingers.

“You don’t want more? Last chance,” you laughed.

“No, but I do want you to pour one for yourself,” he said with a persuasive pout.

“I’ve got to start closin’ up, Javi,” you waved him off playfully.

“Well then, I’ll help you close up again and then you’ll pour one for yourself. It’ll go faster with both of us anyway,” he got up off his chair, pushing his drink off to the side so he could stack the chair in its place.

“Javi,” you said with a coy smile and an eye roll.

“What?” he looked at you quizzically, feigning confusion.

“Fine,” you said as you started to stack chairs on the other side of the bar, “but I get to ask you some questions while we close.”

“I’m an open book,” he assured.

“Right,” you said skeptically. As open as a jail cell, you thought to yourself. “So, how long were you with the DEA?”

“Uhh—I guess about 15 years give or take,” he shrugged and stacked another chair on a table.

“How many of those years did you spend in Colombia?” you walked around the bar, wiping it down as you went along.

“About 10 or 11 probably? Kind of all blurred together, ” he responded shortly as he stacked the last chair on a table in the corner.

“Oh, wow! That’s such a long time,” you said somewhat shocked. “So you pretty much had a whole established life down there and everything.”

“I dunno if I’d say established—had to move around a lot. Travel at a moment’s notice. That kinda stuff,” he seemed less enthusiastic the more you asked as he finished making his way around the bar.

“Well, that seems excitin’—was it?” you asked innocently.

He got quiet as he met you back by the bar top, “don’t know if I’d say that either,” he said quickly, “pour your drink, we’re all closed up,” he said.

You thought it was curious how quickly he changed the subject, but you poured yourself a glass anyway.

You swirled the amber liquid under your nose, taking in the warm notes of oak and caramel. “Can’t remember the last time I let myself have a good glass of whiskey,” you smiled as you brought the rim up to your mouth.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to your full lips pressed against the glass.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “that’s good shit.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” he agreed and tilted his glass towards you.

You clinked yours against his, the crystal rims meeting with a bright ring, “salud,” you smiled and took another sip.

“Salud,” he tossed back what he had left in his glass.

You lifted up the bottle in a silent ask to see if he wanted more. He gave you a thankful shake of his head, but declined. “Come outside and have a smoke with me though—and bring that gun you said you’ve got. I wanna see you shoot.”

“Uhh—what?” You laughed as you plucked a cigarette from the pack he extended out to you.

“C’mon it’ll be fun—plus, being armed doesn’t mean shit if you can’t shoot,” he grabbed a few empty beer cans from the bag you had filled to line up on the top of the fence outside the bar.

“I hope you know this is fuckin’ patronizin’, Javi,” you teased and followed him anyways, gun in tow.

“I just wanna make sure your ex is too scared to show up here again. I might have some tips for you,” he said with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t remember askin’ you for tips,” you sassed.

He walked over to the side of the building and balanced each can carefully along the uneven wood of the fence. You laughed to yourself at how excited he was about it.

Once the makeshift range was set up, he returned to your side. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said and stepped behind you.

You turned around towards the fence with a huff and grounded your feet to prepare yourself. You placed your cigarette between your lips, letting it dangle loosely as you gripped the gun in your hands then raised your arms until they were out straight. You watched Javi out of the corner of your eye. You swear you saw his breath hitch as he studied the thickness of your thighs as they glistened in the heat while he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“Eyes up here, Peña,” you winked, trying to play off the way his gaze made warmth begin to pool in your lower belly.

He cleared his throat, followed by a raspy “alright, shoot.”

Feeling confident in the way you played it off, you braced yourself and pulled the trigger like it was the most natural thing in the world to you.

A miss.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath.

You reset yourself

A graze but still a miss.

“Shit!” You stomped a foot in the dirt, sending a dusty cloud into the air. “Guess I’m kinda rusty. Haven’t made it to the range in a while,” you smirked, slightly embarrassed.

“Give me the gun,” he demanded with his hand outstretched.

“Excuse you, Javier?,” you gasped in offense, ‘May I have the gun, please?’ You mean? Don’t make me tell your daddy you went and lost your manners” you raised a stern eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t,” he walked closer to you, hand still outstretched, waiting for the gun.

“You don’t know me well enough to know if I would or wouldn’t,” you smirked.

“Well…I’d like to,” he kept his eyes locked on yours until you couldn’t take their eagerness anymore.

You smiled coyly and looked away from him, completely caught off guard by his forwardness. The butterflies fluttering in your stomach almost distracted you from your little game of keep away.

“Oh, you’re smooth aren’t ya?” you feigned offense.

He didn’t say anything in response, just plastered a lopsided smirk on his face that all but said “yeah I know” for him.

“May I have the gun? Please?” he pouted as he dragged his thumb across his bottom lip.

You pretended to contemplate giving it to him while your brain felt like it was short-circuiting at his attempt to seduce you into handing it over. You had no doubt that pout usually got him anything he wanted and you didn’t want to give him the immediate win, despite the way he made your pussy clench.

“Please?” he repeated.

You bit your lip and side-eyed him before rolling your eyes and handing it over.

“Fine,” you said and crossed your arms.

“Thank you, hermosa,” he said with a wink.

You stood off to the side, your nervous energy displaced only slightly by the repetitive tapping of your foot as you flicked your cigarette butt into the dirt.

He quietly set himself up, even further back than where you had been standing, then fired off round after round as each can clinked to the ground in succession until they’d all been hit.

“Show off,” you huffed. He shot you a sly smile and slinked back towards you, his chest out proudly.

“So, you want those tips or not?” He teased.

“Fine. Gimme your tips,” you resigned. “How’d you even learn to do that so good anyways?”

“Practice,” he said matter of factly as he re-loaded the gun for you and passed it back. 

Before you could shoot off a snarky response, he ran off to gather more cans and set up a new line across the fence before jogging back over to you.

You walked over to the spot you originally chose, much closer than where he’d shot from. He positioned himself behind you to mold your body into what he deemed to be the correct stance. He lightly tapped his knee against the back of one of your legs to get you to spread your legs wider and it shot an unexpectedly strong bolt of arousal to your core. Your breath hitched quietly enough that you hoped he didn’t notice—though the low, half-snicker he huffed out behind you told you your hope was likely useless. As you tried to regain your composure, he placed his hands on your hips to angle your body in the right direction.

You couldn’t help how badly you wanted their warmth to return once he let go.

“Okay—now square your shoulders, put your arms out straight but don’t lock your elbows this time, brace them just enough,” he said as he guided his hands under your arms, his lips so close to your skin his breath tickled the side of your neck, sending another involuntary wave of heat between your legs.

“Um okay, fuck,” you whispered, suddenly lacking in sass after feeling his body pressed against you. You were now acutely aware of how broad his shoulders were as his frame felt like it was engulfing you.

“Okay, now take a deep breath, slowly—in and out—steady yourself,” the low rasp of his voice was so close to you it nearly made your knees give out. “Now, when you’re ready, take the shot,” he said as he backed away to give you space, pleased with his instruction.

You took a moment to breathe one more time in an attempt to refocus yourself now that he had taken a few steps back—but god all you could think about was how the sound of his voice shot straight to your pussy. You wanted to hear it, low and gravely, in your ear as he talked you through something else. You shook your head at your body’s ridiculous response before you pulled the trigger immediately after—as if you were shooting down the thoughts for even fucking crossing your mind.

Clink

You spun around on your heel towards Javi’s direction, your jaw dropped open in amazement at yourself. He smiled back at you, seemingly as proud of your shot as you were.

“Hit one more. Go on,” he smirked as he waved you to turn back around.

“Okay, shoulders back like this, legs out this far, arms—not locked,” you whisper to yourself as you go through the inventory of tips he just gave you. “And breathe,” you exhaled.

Clink

Breathe.

Clink

You jumped up in excitement while Javi came to stand next to you again with a pat on the back and a proud “that’a girl.”

“Thank you, Javi!” You said excitedly as you threw your arms around his neck for an appreciative hug. Your wish to have his hands on you again was granted as he wrapped his arms around your waist cautiously, as if he felt like he might cross a line if he held you any tighter.

You’d come to the conclusion that although he clearly knew the effect he had on women, he was still a born and raised Texas boy at heart. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable despite the way you threw yourself onto him.

You pulled back, your arms still lazily draped over his shoulders as you looked over to the fence, proud that all the cans were now lying on the ground.

You didn’t even realize how close you really were until you turned to face him again. You dragged your eyes from where they’d landed on his lips up until you met his gaze. There was something more behind his eyes now, an ounce of nervous restraint infiltrating their usual intensity.

“Can I…can I kiss you?” He asked as his eyes flitted back and forth between yours in anticipation.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you breathed out as your lashes fluttered.

It started out innocent at first, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he gently pulled your lips to his. Your knees wavered at how soft they felt against yours as his mustache tickled your upper lip. He broke the kiss first, his lips hovering just above yours. He stroked his thumb gently across your cheekbone as he waited for you to be the one to make the next move if you wanted.

You definitely wanted more than that. You needed more than that. The suppressed arousal that threatened to overtake you earlier returned as you surged towards his lips again. He let out a surprised moan into your kiss and tangled his hand in the hair at the back of your head as you deepened it, pulling you closer to him. He teased his tongue across your bottom lip, coaxing you to part your lips wider. You obeyed without hesitation and slowly rolled your tongue against his. He pulled you into his chest harder, more desperate, and licked into your mouth pulling a quiet whimper from you.

“Wanna lock up and meet me at my place?” he murmured against your lips. You nodded your head quickly before he kissed you again and sent you off towards the bar with a light tap on your ass.

You gasped in surprise as you looked back over your shoulder at him, swaying your hips seductively to toy with him. He watched you with furrowed brows, his hand twitching at his side. You jogged back over to him and threw your arms over his shoulders as you crashed your lips against his. When you took a step back, breaking the kiss, he chased after you as you guided him to back you up against your car.

“Follow me?” he asked in between your increasingly desperate kisses.

“Mmm hmm,” you nodded and bit your lip, your pupils already blown out and wild with anticipation.

You’d dated occasionally in the three years since ending things with Mateo—had your fair share of hookups too—but none of them piqued your interest the way Javi did. He was different and you wanted to find out why.

He turned back to look at you in your car one last time before he hopped up into his truck. Once you were out of his direct line of sight, you leaned your forehead against your steering wheel and squealed to yourself.

You followed him off the main road, down a darker gravel road that led to the Peña ranch. Since Javi had returned from Colombia, he and Chucho had worked to build a small suite that extended off the main house so that he could have more privacy. Sleeping in his childhood bedroom as a man in his 40’s just wasn’t very appealing.

You barely had a chance to greet him at the front door before he was on you again. He fumbled trying to get the keys into the deadbolt lock, too focused on keeping himself pressed to you.

You hummed into the kiss, “mmm, do you need me to step out of the way?” He took the brief reprieve to eyeball the lock behind you, finally sliding the key in.

“Nope,” is all he said as the sound of the lock opening hit your ears. He pushed the door open as he dropped his head to your neck, leaving wet kisses against your heated skin. You gasped, then bit your lip as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

He kicked the door closed behind him as he pushed you further backward into the darkness of his apartment until your back hit the wall with a gentle thud. He kept you pinned there as he captured your lips heatedly. You fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, your fingers shaking in anticipation for whatever plans he had for you. Once you’d managed to pop the final one open, he shrugged the shirt from his shoulders without ever breaking the kiss.

You began to toy with his belt buckle, but before you could tear it open, he dragged his hands up the soft skin under your shirt and removed it over your head in one smooth motion. This was the only time he hesitated as he took time to revel in your tits being bare for him for the first time.

Your chest heaved under the heat of his gaze as you looked up at him through your lashes. He cupped your cheek gently before he pulled you back in for a breathless kiss and started walking you backwards towards his bedroom. The closer you got, the more impatient both of you became, panting and gripping at each other in a frantic manifestation of the tension that had been building for weeks now.

When the back of your legs hit his bed, you laughed devilishly as he pushed you backwards onto the mattress. He leaned on an arm, hovering above you as he dipped his head to suck your nipple into his mouth.

You hissed at the sensation of his tongue rolling against it, your head tilting back as you arched into him, needy for more. You fumbled with the button on your shorts with a frustrated whine.

“I got you, hermosa, hold on,” he mumbled against your skin as he kissed his way down your soft curves. As he moved to undo the metal button, he planted slow kisses across your belly where the top of your shorts sat.

“Javi,” you whined and rolled your hips in frustration.

“So impatient,” he rasped as he pulled your zipper down, "Now, stand up,” he commanded, his voice even more low and gravely than when he was instructing you back at the bar.

You obeyed, unsteady on your legs, your pussy aching for any kind of touch when he pulled your shorts and panties off your hips together, letting them crumple to the floor around your feet.

You stood in front of him, now completely bare, a weird mix of vulnerability and want coursing through you as he exhaled sharply through his nose. You studied each other as quiet pants filled the room when your eyes dropped to where the outline of his cock was straining against his jeans. Desire coursed through you as you closed the space between you, your fingers delicately pulling on the waistband of his jeans before sliding down to undo his belt buckle. Once it clinked open, you wasted no time undoing them the rest of the way, your hand immediately dipping under the waistband to grip his length.

Your mouth dropped open at how thick he was as he throbbed in your grip. You rolled your thumb over the tip where slick precum was already leaking from him, “oh my god, Javi,” you breathed.

Unable to take anymore, you helped him peel off his jeans as you kneeled onto the floor in front of him. He hissed as he finally sprung free, enamored by the way you watched as it bounced in front of your face.

You scooted closer to him on your knees and looked up innocently as you wrapped your hand around his girth before you gently kissed his leaking head. He exhaled long and slow above you, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire night until now. You let out a pleased hum as you licked the underside of his tip before wrapping your lips around it and pulling off again with a pop.

“Fuck,” he panted, almost pathetically. You whined as you took him between your lips again and started stroking his shaft with slow movements of your wrist. He reached down and twisted his fingers in your hair, his jaw dropped as he watched you work him before he slowly started to guide your movements, gently pushing and pulling you up and down his length.

When you switched up and swallowed him all the way to the base, he choked out a moan and cursed under his breath before pulling you off and forcing you to stand. Before you could even get your bearings, he pulled you into him for a breathless kiss and walked you backwards to the bed. You scooted yourself back further onto the mattress as he chased your mouth, his length gently tapping against your dripping core as he moved between your legs.

You looked up at him, heated as your chest heaved. He sat back on his knees, taking all of you in before crossing the point of no return—when the only thing that matters is chasing his own release. You whined quietly as you spread your legs slowly, watching him intensely as his eyes turned even darker as they dropped to your throbbing heat. He only took one last look up to your face before he was on top of you again. You gripped his shoulders desperately as he lined himself up against your entrance and pushed himself in with the same unbridled franticness that brought you here to begin with. You gasped at the sudden stretch, your arm lifting up behind you to involuntarily grip onto the headboard as he groaned into the crook of your neck as if he’d been waiting to feel you his entire life.

You both stilled for a moment as you adjusted to him inside of you, fluttering around him as he twitched and throbbed. “Feel so good, baby—fuck,” he breathed against your skin. You hummed as you kissed his shoulder before scraping your teeth against his skin, overwhelmed by the way he filled you.

That was your last moment of stillness before he started fucking into you wildly, all the tension you’d built between you in the last few months translating into the way he thrusted his body into yours. You clutched at his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding on as you let him overtake you.

Small gasps and moans punched out of you with every thrust of his hips, pulling increasingly loud grunts from deep in his throat. The sounds of your pussy squelching around him as his skin slapped against yours filled the room, spurring the both of you on even more. You rolled your hips against his, meeting each thrust as you chased your orgasm.

He hovered over your lips as you shared pants between needy, messy kisses before he adjusted himself to hook one of your legs in the nook of his elbow. Your eyes fluttered shut as a loud cry escaped your lips from the deepness of the new angle and the way it allowed him to rub perfectly against that sweet spot inside your walls. The pressure that had been building inside you was threatening to finally explode.

“That it right there, hermosa?” he choked out, looking down at you with glazed over eyes, completely lost in his pursuit to see you fall apart around him.

“Ohhh, yes, mmhmm,” you panted as you dipped a hand down to rub delicate circles against your clit. The contrast between the slow drag of your fingers through your slick and the pace he fucked you pushed you that much closer to your end.

What finally sent you over was the way he groaned, long and low, when he looked down between your bodies and realized you were touching yourself. You eyes squeezed shut as your body seized in his arms, your free arm flying up to wrap around his shoulder to hold on as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased his own.

He followed behind you shortly after as he dropped your leg and braced himself on both arms, entrapping you between them. He kissed you as his thrusts stuttered and lost their rhythm, then came with a wrecked sound, grinding his hips into you as he spurted hot ropes inside your walls. His hands had become wrapped in your hair and he kept them there as he slowly rolled his hips, fucking his spend deeper inside of you. You hissed under him and guided his lips to yours, then teasingly rolled your tongue against his bottom lip.

“Mmm,” you moaned quietly into his mouth as you both came down from your high, your breath beginning to steady though he was still buried inside you.

“Did so good, hermosa,” he rasped hotly against your neck before he leaned himself up on one arm to look down at the fucked out look on your face. “So fucking pretty,” he murmured as he traced his thumb across your cheekbone in a deceptively sweet gesture.

You blinked your eyes slowly, completely exhausted in your post-orgasm bliss as he pulled out of you with a strangled groan. You sighed at the loss of his thickness as he rolled onto his back next to you.

You scooted yourself into his side, draping an arm over his middle and rested your head against his chest as you traced your fingers lazily against his skin. As you settled again, he stroked your hair absentmindedly as you both returned to your bodies. You laid still in the quiet of his room, letting the rise and fall of his chest ground you.

Eventually, he rolled over to reach over to his nightstand and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that were there waiting for him. He pushed himself up so that his back was against the headboard before he brought the cigarette to his lips and placed the flame to the tip.

You sighed and propped yourself up on an elbow as you watched him take a long drag. You smirked at how fucked out he looked as he handed it to you for a hit. You lazily plucked it from his fingers and brought it to your kiss-swollen lips, inhaling slowly before passing it back to him. You let yourself savor the buzz of the nicotine as it injected some life back into you.

Finally, Javi spoke.

“Holy shit,” he huffed with a lop-sided smirk.

“You can fuckin’ say that again,” you shot back as you collapsed into his pillows.

He chuckled under his breath and passed the cigarette to you again. As you stared at the ceiling and took another drag, your mind went back to the bar earlier. The images of the way his face dropped and demeanor changed when you were asking him questions ran through our head. You started to connect that his gruff exterior might be some kind of defense mechanism—a way to keep himself safe from a threat that no longer exists. You weren’t fully knowledgeable about what happened to him while he was gone, but you wanted to be able to give him a space to talk about it. Be someone who could try to understand. To make him see that he doesn’t have to shut himself off. 

You delicately handed the cigarette back to him as you contemplated, spurred on by your growing care for him as you asked, “you know, earlier, at the bar?”

“Yeah, which part?” he sighed as he scooted himself back down the bed, his head coming to land on the pillow next to yours.

“The part when we were asking each other questions…I feel like we didn’t get to finish since we had closed up and then…well,” you laughed.

“Okay,” he laughed skeptically, “what else do you wanna know?”

“Well,” you paused briefly, “you seemed to have it pretty good here before you went to Colombia. What made you wanna leave?”

He pursed his lips as he averted his eyes elsewhere—anywhere but your face.

He shrugged, “I just—wanted to make a difference. Wanted to help people.”

“That’s very admirable of you,” you said as you turned onto your side to face him.

“If you say so,” he breathed out as he reached over to stub the last of the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Oh stop, of course it is,” you smiled, “did you like it there? Since you were down there for so long?”

“There were things I liked—was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, warm people…” he trailed off.

“…but,” you started.

You waited as the air hung thick with all the words you thought he might’ve liked to say, but couldn’t—or didn’t want to. He laid there, his brow furrowed in concentration, his jaw tensing and releasing as he thought.

“Saw a lot of people die…” the lines between his eyebrows deepened even more, “…I hurt a lot of people,” he said it as if the words were ripped from his throat involuntarily by some force outside of him.

“Oh Javi, I’m so sorry…I’m sure you only did what you had to do,” you looked at him affectionately.

“Would you stop that?” He asked defensively.

“Wh—stop what?” you sat up quickly.

“Acting like everything I tell you is fine or justifiable. You have no fucking idea what I did or didn’t have to do,” he said as he stood from the bed.

A jolt of anxiety replaced your previous sense of calm, the sudden shift in his demeanor shook you. Your hands started to shake and your brain got fuzzy as a lump formed in your throat. 

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything wrong! I just—” you stopped short.

“You just what? Want a chance to act like everyone else around here when it comes to my own experience?”

“No, Javi, I—” you went to start again before he cut you off again.

“You what?” he scoffed.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m sorry,” you stuttered.

“I think you should go,” he sighed as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

You looked at him with watery eyes, but willed yourself to keep them from falling. You didn’t even really know this man. You weren’t going to leave with him seeing you cry.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should,” you said as you raised from his bed to gather your clothes that had been scattered around the room. You hurriedly and silently slipped yourself into your shorts, shoving your panties in a pocket before pulling your tank over your head.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Javi grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, running his hands over his face in frustration.

All you could think about as you headed for the door was how relieved you were that you drove your own car.

You could hear his footsteps as he caught up behind you, “hey, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout it. Should’ve just minded my fuckin’ business,” you said without even looking in his direction as you shoved your feet into your shoes.

As you went to turn the doorknob, he stopped you by placing his hand on top of yours. You turned to look at him for the first time since he told you to leave. You could read the remorse all over his face. The part of you that cares for him wanted to make it better. The other part wondered if you needed to be more careful around him. For all you know, he could be dangerous. He said he’s hurt people and just you let yourself go home with him without anyone else knowing where you were.

As if he were reading your mind, he resigned and dropped his hand. You kept your stare focused on his as you swung the door open, then turned away without looking back as you stepped over the threshold.

……..........................................................

After that night you didn’t see him again for at least a month. Maybe longer. It was hard to tell after you decided to push everything about him from your mind the best you could—the intensity of his gaze, the way he lit a cigarette, the way the lights in the bar softened his features…the way he fucked you. You didn’t know if you should be hurt or angry or—hell—even just indifferent about how things went down. It’s not like the two of you really were anything outside of some heavy flirting and a quick hookup.

You’ve never been one to not be able to move on from a one-night stand. Why does this one feel so awful?

You guessed you couldn’t really blame him for not coming back. After sitting with your thoughts after you’d left his place, you felt awful for prodding him about it. You should’ve just left it alone after he got short with you at the bar that night. Whatever walls he built that you wanted to try and take a peek through were very clearly up for a reason. You just hoped that you’d be able to slowly tear them down. What you didn’t anticipate was that even just a few basic questions about his past could spur such a response.

That is, until you truly understood his past wasn’t a normal one.

It’s not like you could call him to apologize—you never exchanged numbers— and you didn’t think it was your place to ask for his number from someone else. You didn’t know if he’d want to be contacted. All of your interactions besides when he took you home were in this bar. You didn’t even know if he was still in Laredo or if he had accepted one of those teaching positions he talked about interviewing for.

Even though Laredo was a small town, Javi kept a relatively low profile for someone everybody pretended to know everything about. His absence only added fuel to their gossip, none of which should be taken seriously, but you guessed you weren’t the only one who hadn’t seen him around much lately, if at all.

You were stocking the bar, getting the place ready to open for the evening. It was a Saturday, so you were trying to make sure you had everything you’d need without having to run off to grab things constantly. The owner, Mike, had come in to help you out today as there had been a particularly large delivery that would’ve been difficult for you to manage alone before opening the doors. The two of you worked quietly, randomly cracking jokes or asking questions as you went along.

You walked over to a corner table to start taking chairs down and started to make your way down the row when you heard a knock at the entrance. You spun around, ready to tell whoever it was that you weren’t quite open just yet, but you were met with a familiar pair of soft brown eyes. You froze in place, as if you saw a ghost, as you wracked your brain for words. The two of you kept your eyes locked on each other. Javi opened his mouth like he was getting ready to say something when your boss rounded the bar to greet him.

“Well hey there, Javi, come on over here and have a seat at the bar. I’ll pour you up somethin’ real quick,” he patted him on the back as he guided him to the bar, giving you an opportunity to disappear into the back office.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to yourself as you flopped into a desk chair. Your heart was racing in your chest. You leaned forward and propped your elbows up on the desk to hide your face in your hands, your foot frantically tapping against the floor as anxiety flooded you.

You jumped when Mike quietly knocked on the door as he entered the office.

“Fuck, you scared me,” you breathed out with your hand placed over your heart. You tried to act normally, a smile plastered on your face as he side-eyed you. You grabbed the cash drawer and started counting as he hovered.

“You wanna talk about somethin’?” he said with an eyebrow raised.

“Uhh, no? Why?” you said before you started mumbling numbers to yourself as you continued counting the coins.

He sighed heavily at your avoidance, “just go and talk to him.”

“What do you mean? Talk to who?” you asked as if there wasn’t one other person besides the two of you in the bar.

He gave you an incredulous stare, “Peña.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ugh…how did you know?”

“Larry was in here with Luisa the other night. Didn’t know much but you know how that goes with her. I put two n’ two together,” he chuckled.

“Good Ol’ Luisa,” you laid back in the chair with a heavy sigh. “Fine—but if I’m not back in 20 minutes, get your gun,” you teased.

As you appeared from the office, Javi stood from his seat at the bar. He fidgeted with the sunglasses in his hands as you marched over to him with purpose and caught him by the elbow.

“Outside,” is all you said as you led him out the door. You pushed him further out, away from the entrance and closer to your car where there was a little more privacy from any potential prying eyes.

“Really didn’t think I’d see you back around here this time for sure,” you said as you crossed your arms tight across your chest, “think I’m gonna have to revoke your free drink pass though.”

That earned you a light chuckle from him, “guess that’s fair.”

“But really, what are you here for? There’s five other bars within a two mile radius you could hit up,” you questioned as you tilted your head curiously.

“I like this bar,” he smirked.

“Javier—” you rolled your eyes, “you can’t flirt your way outta this one.”

“I know…I know,” he paused briefly in between his thoughts, “I, uh—I just wanted to come apologize to you. I know I shouldn’t have waited this long to do it but the way I acted towards you has been eating at me and—I’m sorry. I’m trying to get better about that,” he said as he averted his eyes.

You let a silence settle between you before you got brave enough to finally make your own apology.

You took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly as you started,“if I’m bein’ honest…I’ve been wantin’ to apologize to you too,” you confessed.

“To me? For what? I was the asshole,” he looked at you, puzzled.

“Well—for crossing a line. I pushed too far. I was just curious about you, I guess,” you sighed.

“Everyone seems to be,” he scoffed.

“Maybe so,” you spoke gently, “but I don’t think my motives are quite the same as theirs,” you said with a knowing eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?” He shifted in place and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I actually wanted to know you,” you said softly.

He was quiet as he absorbed your words. It almost seemed foreign that someone was apologizing to him—as if he’s always been the one who’s had to apologize no matter how much he’d been hurt by others.

“Uhm—thank you,” he said quietly, “navigating things since I’ve been back—it’s been hard. Everywhere I go people tell me I’m a hero, but every time they do all I’m reminded of is my failures when I just—kind of want to forget.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Javi,” you reached out to gently rub his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m so sorry—the last thing I wanted was to make you feel that way too.”

He sighed heavily, like a weight had been lifted off his chest, “Well, in other news—I wanted to tell you I was offered a job,” he said.

“Oh my god, that’s fuckin’ great! Which school offered?” You asked excitedly.

“Uh, A&M International,” he smiled—one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

A real one, a modestly proud one.

“That’s perfect since you wanted to stay close. You’ll be right up the street! I’m sure your Pops is thrilled. How you feelin’ about all of it?” you smiled back. You truly were happy for him. It was a chance to give himself a purpose again. A chance to try to move on.

He chuckled under his breath, “actually kind of nervous. I don’t remember starting a new job feeling so daunting.”

“You’re gonna be great. I bet you’ll be everyone’s favorite instructor in no time,” you teased.

He laughed, “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What? Are you gonna be a hard-ass or somethin’ professor Peña?” You smirked playfully.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he shrugged.

“Well, come on back inside. I’ll reinstate your free drink pass for a celebration. I promised it to ya anyway.”

After the two of you had cleared your consciences between yourselves, there wasn’t very much time wasted in the two of you starting to hook up again.

You decided instead of trying to learn about the old Javi, you’d put it to rest and try to learn the new Javi—though it all still lingered in the back of your mind.

As you started to spend more time with him, the cracks of what neither of you dared to talk about increasingly showed. It could be anything from him going quiet of a sudden, his eyes focused somewhere off in the distance like he wasn’t present with you, here, on this plane of existence to giving himself overly harsh criticisms, especially after he started his new job. Nothing he did, in his eyes, was good enough. He never thought he was giving enough during his lectures or during office hours, even though he’d stay late frequently or bring work home with him.

At least with that, you could reassure him. Tell him it’s okay. That it’s something new and no one is expecting him to be perfect at it yet—but you always wished you could do something more. 

You forced yourself to avoid questioning him or acknowledging the other stuff.

If he wanted to talk about anything more serious, you’d let him do it on his own terms.

You guess you convinced yourself that as long as he kept fucking you like a man with nothing to lose, you could accept it. It was a little routine you’d carved out for yourselves—a night of flirting at the bar before he’d take you home to completely ruin you for anyone else.

It still left an empty feeling in your chest every time you’d gather your things to leave. Sometimes he’d walk you to the door to give you a goodbye kiss so intense that it made you wonder if this time could be the last time. Sometimes he’d have already fallen asleep next to you after laying together quietly—but you never stayed the night after the two of you had been wrapped up together in his sheets no matter how close you felt like you were growing.

You did it to protect yourself and you assumed he never asked you to stay for the same reason.

……..........................................................

You chant his name over and over as he pounds into you. Your fingers grip the sheets as if they’re the only thing tethering you to the Earth while behind you, Javi grunts and pants, drunk on the way the flesh of your ass bounces against his hips with each thrust.

“You’re close aren’t you, hermosa?” he chokes out.

“Yes, yes,” you moan, tears now freely streaming from your eyes and staining the sheets.

“Fuck, wanna give you what you pretty girl. You want it?”

“Please,” you cry out.

“You gotta tell me who’s pussy this is,” he slows his pace, dragging himself through your velvety walls tauntingly slowly. He knows that it drives you insane—that you love the way you can feel every inch of him this way.

All you can do underneath him at this point is whimper pathetically.

He leans over your back so he can rasp into your ear, “easy, hermosa. I’ve got you,” he murmured nearly incoherently, “now, tell me who’s pussy this is.”

“Fuck Javi!” you whine as he plants wet kisses to your shoulder.

He groans behind you as he tries to maintain the little control he has left, “I know pretty girl, tell me—please.”

You hummed in satisfaction hearing him start to beg now as he pulses inside of you. You know as soon as you say it, he’ll be sent over the edge.

“Oh my god, Javi,” you pant as you start to fuck yourself back on him needily as you chase your end, “it’s yours. It’s yours.”

You repeat it over and over until you see white flash behind your eyelids as you come with a silent moan, your mouth in a perfect O before a wrecked cry pulls from your chest. Your body goes limp in his arms as he continues fucking you through the length of your orgasm.

A strangled moan pulls from his lips as his thrusts falter and his grip on your hips tightens, “fuck, fuck,” he pants as he thrusts hard into you one last time before he swells and spills into you with a drawn out moan.

You whimper underneath him with every twitch of his cock as he paints your walls with thick ropes. As he comes down from his high, he finally allows your hips to sink back down to the bed while he drapes himself over your back, kissing and nipping at the crook of your neck while he holds you.

“Mmm,” you hum, a satisfied grin spread across your lips as your breathing returns to normal. Javi intertwines his fingers in yours as he places reverent kisses across your back.

You gasp quietly when he reluctantly drags himself from your heat and collapses onto his back next to you. You lay there, the grin still plastered on your face and your eyes fluttered closed in complete contentment.

He props himself on his side before he brings a hand over to caress the soft flesh of your ass, “you okay, hermosa?”

“I’m fuckin’ great. So great,” you giggle exhaustedly.

“C’mere,” he whispered and rolled onto his back again so that he could guide you to lay on his chest.

You snuggle up beside him and rest in your usual post-sex spot, counting down the time to when you’ll have to leave again. After the exhausting session you just had, you figure it’ll be a fall asleep night instead of a goodbye kiss night.

You lay with him in the quiet until the light circles he was tracing on your arm slow to a stop, your sign that you need to open your eyes before you fall asleep here too. You stealthily sit up and slink from under the sheets without disturbing him too much. As usual, once the weight of you isn’t holding him in place, he instinctively rolls over onto his side, his back facing you, as he settles again.

You sit on the edge of the bed and with one last look back at his sleeping form, you lean over and place a delicate kiss to his exposed shoulder before you rise from the bed to search for your dress in the dark.

Once you find it, you carefully sit back down and slip it over your head, taking one last moment before you head towards the door.

This became your normal.So you’re completely thrown off guard when you feel a hand wrap around your wrist as you go to stand, followed by a still half-asleep, “stay.”

“Oh Javi...” Paloma moans out in pure bliss, head canting back and exposing the column of her throat to which he hungrily begins to attack with his lips. Kissing, licking, biting; his cock twitches as she clenches around him.

Her orgasm is quickly building to its peak. She’s wanted this for so long and it’s about to be over. Wishes to prolong it for as long as she can, but that’s nearly impossible since he’s making her feel so damn good and alive.

“That’s right, hermosa, taking it so good…” He mutters softly in her ear through clenched teeth, tip of his nose brushing against her jaw, hips still drilling against hers at a brutal pace.

Paloma knows she’s going to be feeling him for the next few days, the soreness from his length stretching her out and fucking her deliciously a reminder of their time together.

Her sundress is scrunched up at her waist, tits spilling out from the top that’s been lowered as Javier kisses down to her chest and his lips wrap around one of her stiffened nipples. This only encourages her to be more vocal, sounding sweeter yet filthier than any pornstar he’s ever heard or prostitute he’s ever fucked.

One of his hands moves from her waist up to her neck, holding her firmly as he shifts her thighs higher around his waist, fucking her at a new angle that has her seeing stars. Her eyelids fall close at the overwhelming euphoria coursing through her.

“No, princesa, open your eyes. Want you to look at me while you come all over this dick.” Her eyes snap open at his dirty talk, usual brown eyes now drowned in lust as he squeezes his grip around her throat.

Paloma’s never had sex like this, never been talked to in this manner either. It’s exhilarating.

“Atta girl, so obedient, aren’t you? Desperate to come all over me. You make the prettiest faces while I’m fucking you, cariño.” He continues to coax her and she lets him do as he pleases, his words only pushing her closer to her release.

“Oh god.. Javi I-I’m so closeeee….” She mewls out, her hands clawing at his wrist as she begins to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of her approaching orgasm. 

He places wet kisses against her jaw before messily slanting his lips against hers; his tongue licking the inside of her mouth and swallowing her moans as her walls flutter around his cock while she comes.

Paloma’s eyes open slowly, groaning at the sunlight that hits her face directly and the annoying sound of her morning alarm.

She feels the wetness between her thighs, reminding her of the very intense dream she had been pulled out from.

Javier giving her the best lay of her life. God, she wishes she could fall back asleep to finish it. If the dream version of him is that good; she can only imagine what the real thing must be like. 

She reaches over to shut the alarm off, then rolls onto her back to stare up the ceiling. It felt so real, the way he was holding and kissing her. She bites down on her lower lip.

She wants him so bad.

One of her hands slowly begins to slither down to the elastic band of her sleep shorts. She’s too hot and needy to not finish herself off.

Slipping her fingers beneath her shorts, she teases herself by softly dragging her manicured nails along the skin of her inner thighs, trying to pick back up where she’d left off in her dream. Javier filling her up to the hilt, his cock pressed up against that one spot that made her cry out like a bitch in heat.

After she’s teased herself enough, her fingers slowly trace her wet seam which has a soft moan pushing past her lips. She repeats the action a few more times before she spreads herself open, drenching her fingers in her own arousal then softly pushing two inside. 

She sighs shakily, slowly working them in and out of her; imagining it to be Javier’s more thicker and undoubtedly rougher touch.

“No, princesa, open your eyes. Want you to look at me while you come all over this dick.” 

Dream Javi’s words overtake her and her mouth falls open at how good she’s currently pleasuring herself. He’s all up in her mind, making her feel so good even when he isn’t here.

Her free hand is now under her shirt, pinching and twisting at her nipple to aid her in reaching her orgasm.

Paloma’s cunt clenches around her fingers, thumb rubbing the pearl of her clit. She’s so close to releasing; all while thinking of a man she’s just met.

“Paloma, are you awake?” Feverous movements immediately come to a halt as she hears her father’s voice then his knocking against her bedroom door; the doorknob shaking once he begins to turn it.

She scrambles to collect herself, pissed off that she had not only woken up from a magnificent wet dream, but also interrupted as she was trying to get herself off because of it.

“Wait, I’m naked!” Is the first thing she can think of to exclaim, pulling the blanket up to her chin despite having on sleepwear.

He halts and she lets out a relieved sigh as he doesn’t enter.

“Get dressed. I need to speak with you…” She hears the pinched expression in his statement and her brows furrow. Something’s wrong and she feels an uncomfortable stir in her stomach, no longer aroused.

“Okay… I’ll be down in a second.” There’s a brief moment of silence before she hears his footsteps descend down the hallway then the stairs.

Kicking the sheets off of her, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

So much for starting the day off on a pleasurable note. She can still feel her wetness coating her thighs so she decides to wipe them clean in the bathroom before meeting her father downstairs.

After brushing her teeth and freshening up, she enters the kitchen to find Romeo staring out the large bay window that overlooks their backyard.

“Good mornin’... everythin’ alright?” She can’t help but nervously ask, chewing the inside of her cheek and leaning against the doorframe.

He doesn’t respond right away, instead taking a deep breath and dropping his gaze to his boots.

“Another girl was murdered.”

Paloma sucks in a breath and that uncomfortable stir in her stomach from earlier returns at the news.

“Body was found right here in town. She was one of us.”

“Who—”

“Nina Thorton.”

Now she feels like the wind has been knocked out of her entirely. She’s known Nina since they were kids; having gone to the same preschool and then graduating from high school together. She saw her at church every Sunday, Nina often frequented her shows and the two engaged in pleasant small talk when running into each other in town. 

It’s almost too surreal for Paloma to try and process, despite being aware of the recent crimes in the surrounding areas. It was only a matter of time before it happened directly here in Seminary. Now that it has, and so close to home at that, she’s terrified.

“Oh my god… no… that can’t be— I just saw her at the bank a few days ago.” She stumbles over her words, her father finally turns to face her and sees how upset his daughter is. He crosses the room to envelop her in a comforting hug.

She rests her forehead against his chest, falling limp in his arms. He rubs soothing circles against her back and that helps her feel a little better. Some wetness from her cheek transfers to the front of his work shirt and Paloma just now realizes that she’s actually crying.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. I know this is a lot and I contemplated even tellin’ you but… it’s for the best that you know… ‘specially comin’ from me.” He pulls back, cupping her cheeks in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumb.

She nods, taking some deep breaths to help calm her down. Another girl is gone and they’re nowhere near close to finding out who did it or why.

Hopefully they figure it out before he or she hurts someone again… but Paloma isn’t an idiot— she knows things of this severity take time.

“The funeral will be on Saturday and there’s a vigil Friday night. I’m about to head down to the station to get on top of things. Javier should be back from D.C. tomorrow. I probably won’t make it home for dinner.” Paloma’s heart sinks at the fact that she’s going to be all alone navigating through this grief she didn’t even know she could have.

“Are you going to be okay? ‘Cause I can work from home if—”

“No, daddy, you never bring your work home and you’re not gonna start now. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You have a job to do.” She urges him softly, placing her hands over his that are still on her cheeks and flashing him the most genuine smile she can muster.

Romeo just looks at her, studying her face and she sees the way his tired eyes turn gentle.

“You remind me so much of her. Especially now that you’re all grown up.” There’s a tenderness to his words that has Paloma’s chest tightening as he compares her to her mother.

“I miss her too.” Is how she responds, knowing that it was the underlying message in his statement. They don’t usually talk about Abilene Leighton. When they do, it’s when her father gets drunk enough to dote on his dead wife. He’s told her many stories from when they were young; how they met and what life was like before they found out she was pregnant with Paloma. So endearing to hear how her father talks about his wife, but she knows that he still holds resentment towards her from the way that she left this world. His world.

– suicide mention tw

Abilene had taken her life in their bathtub when Paloma was thirteen. Romeo had been the one to find her and he did everything in his power to make sure that his daughter did not see her mother in that state. Thankfully, his efforts succeeded and Paloma was left locked out of her parent’s bathroom while her father called for help and attempted to keep pressure on his wife’s wounds.

His efforts on that end, however, were useless since she had been dead long before he found her.

She lightly removes his hands from her cheeks and she leans in to hug him again, wrapping her arms around his torso and staying there for a few moments before peeling herself away.

“Go on now, daddy. I’ll be fine; I promise.”

Javier steps out of the small airplane that had flown him from Houston to Seminary. He grunts as his back muscles spasm when he stretches in attempts to ease some of the uncomfortableness from the trip. He wouldn’t consider his current age to be old but with all he had endured back in Colombia; he’s sure that shit aged him tenth fold. 

His meeting in D.C. had completely blindsided him. Javi was fully prepared to have his crimes be presented to him in great detail by the board and then rightfully suffer from the consequences of his actions.

Instead, he’d been approached by operations and asked about his knowledge of the Cali cartel. Apparently that was more valuable to them than his involvement with Los Pepes. He was reluctant to speak on it at first, knowing how the system works, but eventually he revealed every detail he could spare. Javier wanted to make sure that any and all information was relayed somehow, tired of keeping secrets.

Now whether said intel landed in the right hands or not was none of his concern.

The meeting concluded with Javier declining a DEA attaché position they offered in hopes of convincing him to help bring down the new cartel empire. Again, there was some hesitance at first, part of him yearning to be thrown back into the vicious land that was Colombia. 

Except this time, things wouldn’t go south like they had with Escobar.

He’d have the chance to do things right. By the book. See it all the way through.

It was tempting to accept, it really was, but ultimately; Javier is worn down and ready to close that chapter of his life. The drug war is never ending, when one kingpin falls others rise up. How many times would he have to go through the ringer until he finally decided that enough was enough?

Was he going to have to die on the job in order to separate from it?

He’s dedicated too many years to the treacherous field and now he supposes his only priority is to live the rest of his life content in being… him.

What ‘him’ looks like is a fucking mystery at the moment which is why he believes staying in Texas is his best option for the time being. For his peace. His sanity. It’s the least he could do, even if he doesn’t believe in being kind to himself.

Plus, there’s a certain singing brunette that may have persuaded him in his decision to stay.

The ride back into town is quiet; he turned down the radio to sit in his thoughts a little longer before arriving at the station. The first thing he notices when he pulls into the lot is how many vehicles are there: a contrast to how barren it usually is.

His brows pull into a frown as he parks, making sure he doesn’t look as exhausted as he feels before exiting his truck and walking into the building.

It’s not packed, per se, but it is a crowd that he’s not accustomed to seeing. Lorraine, who is usually reading a book or gossip magazine, is currently in a deep phone conversation at her desk so he can’t even ask her what the fuck is going on.

He spots the sheriff speaking with one of the deputies on the other side of the room, so Javier crosses it to make his presence known.

Once Romeo spots him, Javier sees the man let out a heavy sigh right before dismissing the officer and beckoning Javi to follow him into his office.

“What the hell did I miss?” He inquires, shutting the door behind him as Romeo rounds his desk and hands him a file.

“There was another murder. This time, local. Nina Thorton, twenty-six years old from Seminary. One of the guys found her body dumped by the swinging bridge.” Well shit, that didn’t take long. As unfortunate as it is— at least they have new facts and evidence to comb over to, hopefully, get a step closer to finding out who is responsible.

“This our person? Same M.O.?” Though his question is quickly answered as he reads the coroner’s report, then sees the official crime scene photos.

Multiple lacerations to her chest, blood covering the entirety of her torso and lower half of her face. He notes the environmental damage her body went through by the holes in her skin that had maggots and other grossly creatures inhabiting them. Not much different from the others, except this time…

“They took her fucking leg?” Javier can’t help how the words tumble past his lips, slowly sitting down in the chair across from Romeo’s desk as he continues to study the file in front of him. The photos are gruesome and disturbing. It takes a certain kind of evil to be able to pull this off.

He would know. Spent too much of his life chasing after evil.

“Did it postmortem. What got her was the puncture through the heart, just like the others.” That being the cause of death for all the victims has Javier thinking it’s intentional instead of it being a product of the stabbing frenzy this killer likes to indulge in.

“It’s a clean cut. Doubt they used the same weapon they stabbed her with to do it. Says here she wasn’t killed on site which means he or she could have a secondary location where the actual crime is committed. They’re evolving. But why take the leg?” He continues on, pulling out the pen and pocket sized memo book he carries around with him in case he has to jot down important information.

Romeo, however, stays silent; staring at the framed picture of Paloma that he keeps on his desk.

“Goin’ to tell the Thortons about their daughter was hell. Shoulda seen how devastated her mother was. Husband could barely pick her up due to his own shock. It was even worse when they had to come down here and identify the body. Imagine not bein’ able to explain why their daughter’s leg was sawed off.” His attention doesn’t waver from the photo on his desk and he exhales heavily.

Javier keeps quiet, still writing things down and not wanting to interrupt. This specific victim seems to be hitting the sheriff harder than the others.

“I keep thinkin’, what if it was Paloma instead of Nina? What would I do if it had been my daughter who was savagely murdered then dumped carelessly on the side of the road?” Romeo’s fingers flex into a fist before he releases, reaching over to tap out two cigarettes from the pack. One for him and Javier.

Javier leans over to accept it, letting the man light it for him. He swallows thickly at the mental image of Paloma in the state that Nina was found. He takes a deep and long drag of the cigarette, allowing the gray smoke to cloud that thought from his memory.

“Keep thinkin’ that way and you’re never gonna get shit done.” Javier puts it plainly with a gruff which Romeo appreciates, and that’s when his gaze meets Javi’s.

“Look, I know you’re here to help with the cases amongst other sheriff deputy duties but…” Javier feels a request about to be made, closing the file as he awaits to hear what the sheriff wants from him.

“I need someone to look after her. Things are only goin’ to get worse before they get better. I’m goin’ to get wrapped up here more than before... honestly I’d stick one of the guys on her but she’s made it very clear that she hates that, and between me and you… I don’t trust ‘em enough to look after her. Not how I trust you.”

They’ve only known each other for what, a month, Javi thinks, and this man is already entrusting him with his daughter’s life?

“You’ve got the experience. A decorated field agent. Trained up in Quantico. I’d feel a lot less worried if I knew you were the one keepin’ an eye on her. You’re free to tell me to fuck off and that babysittin’ a twenty-six your old ain’t part of your job but man, I would appreciate it more than you know.”

Javier leans to ash the cig, thinking over his words. His mind wanders to Helena and how he’d promised to keep her safe then she ended up being traumatized in the worst way imaginable.

Too many innocent people have died or been hurt on his watch, and that has him reluctant to agree to the request.

However, this could be the opportunity to right his wrongs and turn over that new leaf he keeps reminding himself of. Plus, they weren’t in the warzone that was Colombia under Escobar’s influence.

They were in the middle of Texas. Granted, dealing with their own shit but just as how his father had put it: it was shit that is much more manageable than the alternative. 

So Javier nods, agreeing to look after Paloma for the sake of her father. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“I’ll handle it.”

The funeral arrives with a swiftness that catches Paloma off guard, leaving her little time to gather herself for the somber occasion. Outside, the sky hangs heavy with clouds, casting a pall over the day as if nature itself mourns alongside her. In Seminary, where rain is a rare occurrence, the dreary, ominous atmosphere adds an extra layer of melancholy. She can almost taste the impending rain in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the tears that will soon fall from the heavens.

Gazing into the mirror, she takes in her reflection, the calf-length, solid black dress she retrieved from the back of her closet clinging to her form beautifully, yet somehow it feels stifling. Her choice of classic Mary Janes graces her feet, and she opts for minimal accessories. As she stands there staring at her reflection, memories of the last funeral she attended— the one for her mother— come flooding back, casting a shadow over her already somber mood.

The vigil held the night prior was painful. She hasn’t felt this much sadness amongst the community in a long, long time. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat and returning to the present, she finishes getting ready, but it’s a sluggish process. She can’t even bring herself to skip out on the event, that’d only make her feel worse. 

She makes her way downstairs to where her father is waiting at the foyer of their home. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and it’s probably because he hasn’t. Ever since breaking the news to her about Nina, he’s been at the station nonstop. She’d only seen him last night at the vigil and then heard him come home in the early dawn.

The car ride to the church is quiet and tense, neither member of the Leighton family knowing what to say.

“Go find us a seat, I’ll be right in…” Her father mutters, handing her the bouquet of white lilies they had purchased at the grocery store on the way here. She nods and he places a kiss to the top of her head then walks away to converse with Javier.

Her eyes follow him the whole way, gaze lingering on Javier. They shared a brief conversation at the vigil last night, and while it was just a fleeting moment it had relieved a tinge of her sadness.

“Were you two close?” Javier murmurs softly, the delicate paper lantern dangling from his hand swaying gently as he draws nearer, his concern evident in his tender expression.

Paloma can’t help but also lean in, shrugging her shoulders and she brushes against him slightly. “Not really… she was always around though. Now she’s not.” She admits, her voice tinged with sorrow as she gazes down at her lantern, her heart heavy.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice filled with empathy as he reaches out to gently touch her arm, offering a comforting gesture amidst the poignant moment.

Paloma turns on her heel to enter the building when she catches a glimpse of a familiar man rounding the corner towards the back of the church.

It was one of the guys who had been with Sloane that day they met in the library months ago. For some reason, she’s tempted to call out after him but she bites her tongue to keep from doing so… because why on earth would she do that? Shaking her head, she exhales in exasperation and instead goes inside to find her and her father their seats.

Javier doesn’t do funerals. It’s one thing he’s been adamant about for as long as he can remember. They made him feel uncomfortable and not because his own mortality is put into question; but because of those that attend. 

The prolonged expression of grief is too much for him to bear. It ferociously digs at a vulnerable spot deep within his chest, surely a result of the post traumatic stress he suffers from. He hadn’t attended a single one back in Colombia; not even Carrillo’s. Despite that being the death that shook him the most due to his friendship with the Colonel, Javier quite literally could not stomach the idea of going. 

He couldn’t do that here, not when his presence is pretty much required. The church is stuffy and smells like incense. He’s tugging at his collar to keep himself from asphyxiating. The mahogany pews are glossy with varnish, sunless light from outside softly peeking through the large glass stained windows. It has been far too long since he’s been inside one of these— he’s surprised he didn’t combust into flames the second he stepped in.

Javier finds a spot at the back of the room, letting the people mourn in their own way and avoiding making eye contact. There’s soft murmurs that echo throughout the space, he can’t quite hear the conversations nearby but he’s more so focused on the body language of those in attendance; trying to spot any questionable reactions as he knows that a lot of murderers like to insert themselves into the events of their victims lives.

It’s why some even inject themselves directly into investigations, others going back to the murder or dump site. Anything to feel a slither of that high from committing their crime. Maybe the person they’re after now is similar in that regard, so Javier stays vigilant throughout the ceremony and continues to hang back as everyone files out to walk over to the cemetery where the burial will occur.

He spots Romeo and Paloma in the crowd, jaw tensing once he sees her tear stained face.

This is why he doesn’t do funerals.

Javi is on his way to follow behind the crowd after gathering nothing from the service, when he sees a guy around the same age as Nina lingering by the enlarged photo of her that is at the altar. He doesn’t make his presence known, instead watching the younger guy with careful eyes.

He doesn’t do much, just stares at the photo for a good, long minute before he turns to exit through one of the side doors.

Huh… could that have been a boyfriend? Family member? Friend? Javi jots down a brief description of the man and his first initial questions before joining the others at the cemetery.

This part is as wearying as the service, but he plays his part diligently. He stays out of the way and observes all the others as Nina’s casket is lowered into the ground. The rain that’s been brewing all day begins to fall softly and he reaches for his umbrella (for once being proactive enough to have brought it along with him) opening it and shielding himself from the weather.

A few more words are said, Nina’s mother a complete wreck as her husband struggles to hold her in his arms.

Javier lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, looking away and his fingers itch to have a cigarette between them but he doesn’t indulge in the vice just yet, wanting to show some respect to the family.

The crowd begins to thin out as the rain comes down heavier and he’s all but ready to head home and work himself into a migraine that he’ll nurse with coffee and cigarettes.

However, his intention to leave dissolves once he sees a lone figure standing in front of Nina’s grave.

It’s Paloma and she’s getting absolutely soaked by the heavy rain but it doesn’t seem to be bothering her.

His feet carry him over to her without him thinking about it, hovering his umbrella over the two of them as he walks up behind her.

“You’re getting rained on, querida.” His voice is soft, softer than it has been in a while but she doesn’t budge. Her stare is pointed at the hole in the ground that hasn’t been filled yet. Nina’s casket on full display.

“C’mon, let me get you back to your dad.”

“It’s just so sad.” Her own voice cracks and it sounds so meek; a complete contrast to how she usually is. “And… and that psycho took her leg...” She winces as she says this, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Javier feels like a fucking idiot, not knowing how to talk to her. It’s the same feeling he got when he saw her at the park where the vigil was held. “I’m sorry, cariño. I know it fuckin’ sucks…” He curses himself beneath his breath. That was worse than saying nothing at all.

This, somehow, gets a small laugh out of Paloma and it makes his heart swell.

“It does fuckin’ suck. We weren’t even close friends but… but she was still a person. She didn’t deserve to die… not like this.” She keeps her back turned to him, and Javier makes no effort to step out from behind her. He’s well aware that the instant he meets her gaze, those sorrowful yet enchanting brown eyes, he’ll find himself utterly undone.

“A girl’s dead… a family has been torn apart and here I am… being selfish and missin’ my momma.” The confession is another jab at that sore spot in his chest, the same spot that reminds him why he’s so apprehensive about funerals. A terrible thing to put someone who doesn’t know how to console around people who need to be consoled.

All Javier does is reach out and rest his free hand against her shoulder, feeling the wet material of her dress beneath his touch. Not a second later, she’s draping her own hand over his. A wordless exchange that seems to comfort the both of them.

Paloma shelves some of the returned books into their original spots, humming to herself lightly as she pushes the cart down the aisle she’s currently in. It’s a peaceful afternoon, three weeks since Nina’s funeral and she feels like she can breathe again.

She’s grateful to be working inside a building with air conditioning now that summer is in full swing. Sure, it does have the tendency to go out every now and again but for the most part— she’s kept cool. 

Paloma stops in her tracks once she’s at the front of the building, the book cart nearly empty but that isn’t much of a feat considering she’s got multiple stacks waiting for her back at the circulation desk.

Her eyes sweep across the expansive, sunlit expanse of the library’s main area, observing the scattered presence of a handful of patrons. Eventually, her attention is drawn to Javier, who’s doing a piss poor job of keeping his distance.

She still thinks of the kiss she’d left on his cheek all those nights ago after her show and the small moment they shared at the funeral. Paloma still thinks he’s hot, she still masturbates to him on occasion and she’s still pissed that he’s been ordered to watch her. 

How many times is she going to have to bitch to her father about how much she hates having his lap dogs follow her around? Even the hot ones?

Annoyance flickers across her features, evident in the subtle roll of her eyes as she maneuvers the cart down the carpeted ramp and toward the table where he sits. “So he reads too…” she murmurs, her tone laced with frustration. “Officer Peña, this is getting absurd. I’m tryin’ to work, for heaven’s sake,” she whispers once she’s within close proximity, mindful not to disturb the others nearby.

Since the funeral, Javier has been shadowing her every move around town. Whether she’s at work, enjoying a meal at the diner, or simply catching up at the bar to discuss her return to the stage; she can’t shake his presence. Through the window, she often spots him sitting in his cruiser across the street like a silent observer. And even when she steps outside, there he is, conveniently waiting with a cigarette in hand, ready to offer her a ride home.

Despite his dreamy appearance, Paloma consistently rebuffs his advances. However, that doesn’t deter him from lingering, seemingly undeterred by her refusals.

All that to say that wherever she turns: he’s there. 

Javier lowers the book he’s holding, peering at her over its edge with a smug grin, his eyes the only visible feature. “Y’know I’m just doin’ my job, miss.” He nonchalantly closes the book and places it on the table, casually shrugging and crossing his arms as he leans back in the chair. “You can keep workin’.” Javier adds, his tone dripping with self-assurance.

Paloma fucking hates the way her eyes drop down to his arms as he crosses them, the short sleeved, tight work shirt he wears is hugging him snug in all the right places. He looks divine in his casual clothing, that’s a no brainer, but something about him in uniform has her cunt clenching around nothing and that just irks her further.

Her hands rest on her hips, eyes narrowing. “No, I can’t just ‘keep workin’’. Not when I’m under surveillance like a fuckin’ criminal.” Accent is as thick as ever though she keeps her voice down to avoid other patrons hearing her cuss, “Can’t you just… drive ‘round the block or somethin’? I promise you I’m just fine. Daddy’s just paranoid.” While she understands that the murders are a big deal, especially in a town like Seminary, Paloma is more than capable of handling herself.

After all, her father had overseen all her self defense lessons growing up and she was a real good shot with whatever gun was put in the palm of her hand.

“Miss Leighton,” he begins with a patronizing tone, running his tongue over his teeth as he rakes his gaze up and down her body. His cut jaw works the gum in his mouth and each time it flexes, she can feel a pulse at her clit.

It’s clear that her stance brings him some amusement since she’s trying to appear intimidating but failing miserably. The smug look on his face says it all. “Maybe you should tell your daddy he’s paranoid.” He suggests with a mild shrug of his broad shoulders, “I’d rather sit here in the cool air than drive around wastin’ gas.”

Paloma snorts, running her fingers through her hair, “Won’t do a damn thing if I tell him. All my complaints fall on deaf ears.” She can’t help but complain and it’s true, her father is too prideful and hardheaded to change his mind about anything. Let alone anything that involves her.

“Mmm, pobrecita. How unfortunate.” He reaches for his book again, no intention of arguing with her any further, but Paloma stops him by placing her manicured hand on top of it, leaning in close enough to where she can smell the mint of his gum.

“Y’know what I think, Officer?” She tilts her head to the side, staring down at him. She notices the way his eyes begin to darken, emboldening her to press on, “I reckon you fancy tailin’ me ‘round town. It’s the highlight of an old man’s day, ain’t it? Keepin’ tabs on a pretty girl like me, day in, day out. I see why you’re so eager to be a yes-man to my father.” Now it’s her turn to patronize him, pursing her bottom lip out into a pout.

His gaze falls onto her pout then back up to meet hers before he speaks.

“I told you, princesa, my job is to keep beautiful girls like you safe. You might not like the methods but there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. So, I’d suggest you get back to doing your job and leaving me to do mine.” His large palm wraps around the wrist of the hand that’s on his book, moving it away and giving him access to pick it up again.

She’s left almost in shock by the swift action, and suddenly she’s thinking of how his hands would feel wrapped around both her wrists while he pins them over her head and fucks into her. 

Javier Peña doesn’t know if he should see this reassignment as a good thing. He had gotten himself in a pretty hairy situation down in Colombia. His involvement with a death squad and the cartel had him pulled from the biggest case of his career right as they were on the verge of catching Escobar… and only he is to blame for that. He crossed a boundary with himself, gotten innocent people killed and what exactly does he have to show for it?

A reassignment to a small, shitty town in the middle of Texas. 

At least in South America he had a great view to cope with the shitty happenings. The lush mountains of Medellín that stretched for miles and miles, the bustling of the the country’s capitol, Bogotá, or the portrait perfect skyline of Cali. 

Here, it’s just dirt roads with barbed wired fences lining the vast amounts of grassy lands. Occasional livestock litter the area; Seminary’s only lifeline is farming since most of the families that reside here own ranches or crop fields. The town is able to sustain itself with what it produces, therefore not needing many additional businesses. Just a few blocks of shops and civil buildings. No hospital but a doctor’s office with one singular clinician, a grindhouse, some boutiques, a bakery, a very small post office that shares its space with the local newspaper.

Typical spaces you’d find in a settlement like this.

He can’t change his past and all his wrongdoings. Instead, Javier can try and see the fucking silver lining of the situation; that he finally has time to catch his breath… to slow down, for once. The concept is foreign to him. He’s been fleeing from it since he was an adolescent.

A fact that his father, Chucho, had brought up when Javier told the older man of his new job.

“Seminary? ¿Donde putas es eso? (Where the fuck is that?)”

“Couple hours southwest of El Paso. A smidge on the map.”

“A smidge on the map sounds like exactly what you need, hombre (man).” His pops tells him, taking a swig from his beer as the two lean against the wooden fence that keeps the herd of horses from running amuck.

Javi doesn’t say anything, instead gazing out into the vastness of the family ranch.

“All that craziness down there in Colombia te pudre le mente. El cuerpo. (It rots your mind. Your body.) And I’ll be damned if a heart attack takes you out before me.” The men chuckle briefly, sounding just alike.

“Comes with its own shit. A damn ‘cult’.” Javi scoffs, taking a smooth drag from the cigarette between his lips. “Least that’s what the locals think. Could just be a damn serial killer.” No different from what he’s experienced with the cartel.

“Shit is goin’ to be anywhere you go, hijo (son), pero se me hace a mi (it seems to me) that the shit they got goin’ on in Seminary is much more manageable than la mierda con Escobar (the shit with Escobar).” Just hearing his name has Javier clenching his jaw subconsciously and Chucho takes notice.

“Just an old man’s opinion. Take this time to look within. Figure out the type of man you want to be after being chewed up and spat out of Colombia.” Another swig of beer, “Pero eres tan bruto, nunca me haces caso (but you’re so stubborn, you never listen to me). ”

“In a shocking turn of events, this might be the one time I do.” Javier snuffs out the finished cigarette against the wooden pole, tossing it aside carelessly and crossing his arms against his chest. “But don’t get your hopes up. ”

“As long as you don’t drink the damn kool aid, vaz a estar bien (you’re going to be fine).” The father and son share another laugh, this time much more lighthearted.

Javi blinks slowly behind the aviators that sit on the bridge of his nose, the bright and grueling Texas sun beaming down on him harshly. Finishing his cigarette, he pushes himself off the hood of his restored Ford pickup truck. He’s been sitting outside of Seminary’s Sheriff’s Department for about ten minutes now, the small building located right in the middle of town very easy to find.

Then again, it wasn’t hard to get lost in a place this small.

It is unimpressive and has the makings of any other small town government building. An American flag flown proudly above Texas’s, the lettering that labeled the building faded due to being unkept and time. 

Javier knows that the dread he feels comes from not being able to sit still. It’s why he found some kind of pleasure working down in Colombia. Things were always moving at a fast pace, albeit he had done a lot of pencil pushing and running down the clock, but the city itself was bustling with life and culture that kept him on go even when he was idle. 

Here, however, the stillness is suffocating and he wonders how the people of Seminary can breathe. 

Is this sentiment what sparked the murders? Had someone finally had enough of the mundane and decided to spruce things up?

His eyes narrow, if he continues to stand out here any longer, the sheriff will begin to wonder if the new guy had bailed before even coming in.

He jogs up the steps that lead up to the main building, taking them two at a time then pushing open the worn, glass door of the entrance; removing his sunglasses and letting them hang from the collar of the cream colored button up shirt he’s wearing. 

He takes in his surroundings and somehow he feels like he and Murphy had more space back at the embassy than what they have here. 

There’s a front desk to the immediate right being tended to by an older woman with fiery red hair that’s got reading glasses on, too engrossed in her novel to notice that he’s stepped in.

Other than that, it's everything one would expect a sheriff’s department to look like. Desks pushed together here and there, singular ceiling fan lazily spinning in the center of the room, a break room tucked to the back, the hallway that led to detaining rooms and other necessary spaces, variety of office supplies and filing cabinets.

It almost looks too normal.

“Need somethin’, dear?” He is returned to himself as the older woman finally takes notice of him with a friendly smile, her eyes not so subtly giving him a once over. “We don’t usually get hunks ‘round here. You must be lost, sugar.”

Javier smirks, even without trying he’s got women smitten.

“Fortunately for you, ma’am, seems like I’m in the right place. Javier Peña, new Deputy Sheriff.” He strolls over to her desk, leaning against it as he reaches his hand out for her to shake. 

She lets out a warm laugh and they shake hands in which Javi notices a soft pink tint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Fortunately for me indeed. I’m Lorraine, darlin’, I pretty much run everythin’ ‘round here but don’t you go tellin’ Romeo that.” She winks at him.

“Don’t go tellin’ Romeo what now, Lorraine? That you’re gunnin’ for my job?” A boisterous voice interrupts them and Javier immediately recognizes it to be the sheriff. 

“Oh, I thought that was somethin’ we all already knew?”

“Hate to say it but she’s right. Works circles around me that one. Romeo Leighton. Great to have you here, Javier.” The sheriff now speaks to Javier directly, and he takes this as a sign to straighten his posture and formally introduce himself as well.

The man has a good fifteen years on Javi, standing a few inches taller with a much more worn look to him. He’s a bit skinny yet built, except for the typical beer belly most southern men tend to have. A scruffy and short beard with unruly hair that’s a mix of grays and dark browns.

“Thanks for having me.” The two share a brief handshake, “M’sure you two could handle the town all on your own, so I appreciate you making room for a plus one.” Javier decides to turn on the good ‘ol southern charm and it seems to land as intended as the atmosphere in the room remains friendly and the sheriff chuckles.

“Look at him catchin’ on so quick. We just might not let you go, amigo.” Lorraine playfully rolls her eyes and reaches over to pass the older man a stack of files. “These just came in from Rankin County.”

“You got here just in time. We got some new developments on the murders.” And just like that, the lively talk is over and they get right into the job. 

“Heard there were mentions of a group of some sorts?” Javier brings it up, wanting to get a gauge on the sheriff’s reaction instead of just reading about it through reports.

“Just rumors. Nothing concrete to back it up.”

The two men now find themselves in Romeo’s office, each smoking a cigarette with multiple files sprawled across the wooden desk.

Here’s what they know: three woman murdered along the highway that these towns share all within a year. They sustained multiple stab wounds, yet the fatal insertion was that of a sharp blade going straight through the heart. The men don’t know if that was intentional or accidental due to the amount of times their chests had been punctured.

It is gruesome, to say the least, but nothing that Javier hasn’t seen before, unfortunately. The way the cartel got creative with their murders just to send a message to their rivals had him exposed to many atrocities; he was desensitized to most forms of violence. Yet, the passion behind these crimes and unclear motive has piqued Javi’s interest the more they discussed it. 

“Then again… it could be nothin’. Just a giant, fucked up coincidence.” The sheriff grumbles, clearly frustrated by the lack of information.

“No, I don’t think so. Too similar of a killing method. Any clue what weapon was used?” Javier leans forward in the uncomfortable, leather chair to ash his cigarette and sifting through the papers, trying to find the coroner’s reports for all three victims.

“Some kind of dagger or knife. Thought it might have been a huntin’ knife but all the wounds were clean cut. No serrated edges on the weapon.”

Javi hums, going over the details in his head for the millionth time trying to see the picture that was so clearly painted in front of him.

There was just simply not enough evidence to make anything out of it. On top of that, the assailant hasn’t struck again in months. A good thing for the general public but not for them if they have any intention of bringing justice to the families of the victims and catching whoever was behind these heinous crimes.

Javier also realizes that while these murders were tame to him, they were most certainly not tame to the people around here. Atrocities as these simply didn’t happen in places like Seminary and surrounding areas. Now that they were dealing with the aggressive reality of humanity, it was shaking them to their core.

So much so that the God fearing townsfolk began spreading rumors that the devil had its eye on the town and already infiltrated the progressive minds of the local youth.

“There’s always some truth to rumors, you know.” Javi begins, gray smoke flooding out from his mouth and nostrils as he puffs out from the nicotine stick, “Someone must’ve seen or heard somethin’ to implicate the younger crowd. ”

The sheriff leans back in his chair, using his thumb to rub out the concentrated frown that had etched itself between his brows, “People ‘round here are pretty stuck in their ways, myself included at times, they don’t like the way this new generation is comin’ up. Barely goin’ to church, spendin’ more time at the bar than at work. How sexual music’s gotten. Small shit like that gets people talkin’. It’s annoyin’ but it’s just talk.”

Javier is going to have to polish his interpersonal skills. Something larger could be at play here so he makes a mental note to go out and talk to these people himself to get a better feeling for what the general sentiment is.

Hell, he might even start going back to church. He can’t remember the last time he step foot in one. With what all had transpired further south; he’d lost his faith entirely. There was so much evil and greed in the world, he felt helpless at the realization that even religion became aversive to him. 

“M’sure somethin’ll come up eventually.” Javier decides to be optimistic, struggling to do so but also wanting to turn over a new leaf, “In the meantime we’ll just have to make do with what we got. It’s been a while since the fucker struck so maybe they're done. Got a taste for it and decided they didn’t like it.” He finishes off his cigarette, stubbing it out and leaning back against the chair.

“A fresh set of eyes will really help with that. Appreciate you comin’ here, Peña. Don’t know much about your time down in Colombia but I can imagine it was rough. This is a massive change for you. Goin’ from damn drug traffickers to a coupla girls gettin’ stabbed on the side of a highway.” The older man continues to puff on his cigarette, his statement falling flat and almost in bad taste but Javier doesn’t say anything, instead shrugging. 

“I got a job— M’not complaining’.” That was almost not the case, and a nasty feeling at the pit of his gut stirs at the remembrance of his meeting with the board in D.C. in a few weeks to get his official reprimanding for his ties with Los Pepes. 

Javi is surprised that the Sheriff doesn’t bring up Judy Moncada’s quotes from the Miami Herald. Either he wasn’t informed or he simply did not care.

“That’s the spirit. What do you have goin’ on tonight?” Romeo begins, changing the subject entirely, and Javier can sense an invitation incoming. “‘Cause I’d love to have ya over for dinner. Give you a proper introduction to Seminary. You can meet my daughter, Paloma, too.” The sheriff then picks up one of the framed photos on his desk, turning it over for Javier to see.

A portrait of a stunning young woman sporting a cowboy hat, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” He pulls the picture back, asking rhetorically and Javier clears his throat. 

For a moment he contemplates the dinner invitation, part of him wanting to be alone in the comfort of his new space but the other part wanting to just throw himself into this to keep his mind occupied and away from the grueling memories of the lengthy time he’d spent in Colombia.

“Sure, I’ll come by.” He decides. If he thought about it for a second longer, he’d talk himself out of going.

A large, friendly grin spreads on Romeo’s face and he nods, finally finishing off his cigarette. “Alright now, you can stop by ‘round 7.” He moves some of the files aside revealing a notepad and he digs in his shirt pocket to pull out a pen. Scribbling down his address messily onto the blank piece of paper, he tears it off and leans over to hand it to Javier.

“Not that hard to get to.” Javier nods curtly and takes the paper, folding it and stuffing it into his back pocket.

It’s later in the day, the sun cascading into the distance; its hues of deep oranges and reds softening as the night sky begins to take over.

Paloma sits on the rocking chair that matches her father’s out on the porch. A guitar nestled in her lap and personal booklet resting on the arm of the chair as she strums lightly, building the chorus of her new song out loud. She takes the pencil from behind her ear and jots down something quickly and messily, returning to strumming and humming simultaneously.

“Paloma!” She hears the loud voice of her father practically making the walls shake as he calls out for her from his bedroom that was on the other side of the house. They often opened all the doors and windows to allow the soft breeze to flow throughout their space. 

She groans, stopping her actions as the melody she was on the brink of figuring out leaves her entirely.

“What, daddy?!” She yells back, waiting for his reply which never comes.

He does this all the time.

Cursing quietly, Paloma stands from her comfortable spot, gently leaning her guitar against the wall then walking in to the house.

She finds Romeo exiting his bedroom and walking towards her, bottle of his good scotch in hand with a relieved look on his face. “Couldn’t find the goddamn liquor. Thought you had nabbed it from me.” He pinches her nose as he walks by her, in which she scrunches her face at the action. It's something he’s done since she was a little girl. It can be endearing but most of the time; it was just annoying.

“That’s the good stuff, daddy. I would never.” She follows behind him as they enter the kitchen, “Man must’ve left quite an impression for ya to be bustin’ out the crown jewel.” She watches as he begins to set out the dinnerware for tonight, and that’s when she realizes how late it has gotten.

It’s easy for Paloma to lose herself in her music. She has been able to since she was a child. Her mother had nursed the hobby the moment she saw how truly talented her daughter was. In return, Paloma became skillful in being able to play damn near any instrument put in front of her. And she could sing, too.

Beautifully.

“Javier’s got a sharp mind that I can use ‘round here. Thinkin’ I can finally start makin’ some damn progress. That deserves a special drink, don’t ya think? Come help me set the table.” She obliges, thinking her father’s words over.

The murders have been weighing heavily on his shoulders since they began. All the time and effort he’s put in to make the puzzle pieces fit only to come up empty handed. Paloma doesn’t know the specifics of it, just what he rants to her here and there. He doesn’t like to bring his work home.

Romeo has been away a lot since putting his entire focus on the cases. Many nights spent at the office but he at least tries to share one meal with his daughter throughout the week. Paloma understands this, and like always she gives him his space and doesn’t complain about it. 

The only reason she’s stuck around Seminary for so long is for him. He wouldn’t know what to do without her.

“Well I’m glad things are lookin’ up, finally. Can’t wait to meet this sharp thinkin’ Javier.” They finish setting up and Paloma excuses herself to go get changed into something a little more dressy seeing as her father was looking more put together than usual.

He must really be trying to make an impression.

Her room is on the second floor, alongside her childhood playroom and the empty room that contained some miscellaneous items.

Like her mother’s things.

Paloma always has a habit of letting her gaze linger at the closed, white wooden door of the room every time she passes it. In a strange way, she feels like her mother is standing behind that door; just waiting for her to open it and greet her like her daughter wishes she could.

But she hardly ever does, the sorrow feeling in her chest too heavy for her to bear being in there for longer than a few minutes.

She passes it with a quick glance, now entering her bedroom and throwing open her wardrobe doors. It’s a mess, like it usually is, but it’s an organized chaos that only Paloma Leighton could decipher. 

After eyeing some outfits, she decides on a cream toned, linen romper with shorts. It has a deep V cut in the front that tastefully exposed some of the tanned skin between her breasts. However, she puts on a matching lace bralette underneath to soften the risqué of the outfit.

Her hair is the brown of aged mahogany. Long and thick, it falls almost to her waist and she does nothing but brush it out. It naturally falls the way she likes. A beautifully sculpted cross necklace hangs from her neck; it was her mother’s and she’d given it to Paloma shortly before passing. She finishes getting ready by spritzing some of her perfume and applying lip gloss before sauntering down the steps.

She hears the soft sound of her father’s record playing some old school country tune, the song sounding throughout the house and she smiles gently. She crosses the threshold and is out on the porch to gather her things from earlier when she catches the headlights of a vehicle coming down the elongated driveway of the property.

That must be him.

“Daddy, your friend’s here!”

Javier got a chance to get to get acquainted with the town before his dinner with the sheriff. He wandered around the shops and establishments that littered the main street of Seminary, drove the backroads then up and down the highway a few times to get a feel for how he would approach his new job. 

The conclusion he’s come to is that the town, for the most part, is harmless. But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After his exploration, he finally made it to the place he would be calling home until further notice. A dingy yet quaint trailer home located on about two acres of land. It has everything he requires. Furnished neatly and stocked with all the cooking utensils he could ever need but ultimately never use. Javier found himself more comfortable after unpacking the few items he’d brought along with him.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe he can finally slip into some normalcy.

But he’s only been here one afternoon so what the hell does he know?

After a stop at the local bakery, an ‘if you blink you’ll miss it’ type of establishment, and the purchase of some homemade banana pudding; the man is driving up a dirt path to Romeo’s home.

The sheriff lives on an impressive mount of land, his house looking like something plucked straight out of an old southern painting. A large, two story home with a wraparound porch. A typical white picket fence surrounds the immediate area. The landscaping is beautiful, it looks very well tended to and he can hear Chucho’s voice ringing in the back of his head.

“¿Vez? Que te dije (see? what did I tell you)— peaceful.” 

He cuts the engine of his Ford, checking his appearance in the rearview mirror before grabbing the tinfoil container from the passenger’s seat and getting out.

The first thing he sees as he approaches the front door are long, tan legs that lead up to some full and soft looking thighs that instantly have him licking his lips.

And who is this?

“Good evening, ma’am.” His deep voice cuts through the sound of the summer evening, his Texan accent thick. The sounds of toads croaking in the distance and different insects chirping about set a pleasant ambiance for the southern night.

The woman stands alert at the sound of his voice and turns to face him, which causes Javi to damn near lose his breath at the sight of the beauty in front of him.

It is the same woman that Romeo had shown him earlier, except the picture didn’t do her natural beauty any justice. She’s got the most gorgeous features he’s ever seen on a woman, and he’s been around a lot of beautiful women. 

Her lips are pouty and pink, the gloss she’s wearing accentuates their plushness so well. Honey colored brown eyes that even from where he stands can see twinkle with curiosity beneath the soft porch lights. Freckles sprinkle across her nose and the tops of her cheeks complimented by her natural blush. 

Damn.

“You must be Javier. I’m Paloma, Romeo’s daughter.” She smiles at him in which he can’t help but mirror as she sets down the guitar in her possession and he slowly walks up the porch steps.

Well, this certainly is a pleasant surprise. When Paloma’s father had told her about the new guy that was joining the department, she just pictured some run of the mill, old looking man. One that looked like every other one of his colleagues. 

She most definitely wasn’t expecting such a handsome man like the one that’s in front of her.

“Paloma.” The way her name falls from his lips with a Spanish accent has her stomach erupting in butterflies.

She’s never heard anyone say it like that.

“Beautiful name. Very fitting.” The flirtatious compliment is one she’s heard too many times to count, but hearing it come from him makes it feel like the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Their close proximity has her catching a whiff of his cologne mixed with.. cigarettes?

Her thighs clench involuntarily.

Javier takes her hand in his as she extends it to greet him. Instead of going in for a handshake, he brings it up to his lips and places a soft kiss against her knuckles. It has her tingling all over; electricity sprouting from the spot where the kiss is planted. She can’t help the way her blush deepens at the action, and she almost wants to slap herself for reacting so easily.

Dating isn't a priority in Paloma’s life. Any man worth having in this town is already taken and the rest are nothing but a waste of time. Just some fun for her to have, hooking up with a handful of them whenever her fingers couldn’t get the job done. 

It is rare when there's an eligible newcomer and even then she is too preoccupied with keeping the family home in shape and her music to even think about dating. She is aware of the way the gossips in town talk about her, disliking that she is a single and childless twenty-six year old woman.

“She should be married by now. At her age I already had three kids.”

“It’s so sad, really.”

“I’ve heard she’s given it up to about half the boys in town.”

They gasp and glance over at her over their shoulders. Paloma pretends she doesn’t see them do this.

Her true love, aside from music, is that of traveling. She wants nothing more than to leave Seminary all together and head west, see what the rest of the world has to offer. Take a chance on her music... make a name for herself.

Unfortunately for her, she’s got some heavy family ties here in Texas (her father) and after the death of her mother— she wouldn’t dare leave him. The guilt would eat her alive.

Was it fair for her to give up her aspirations just to keep one person happy? No… but things aren’t always fair and she has a decent life here in Seminary. She doesn't have to worry about paying any bills or surviving on her own; though she knows she’s more than capable of doing so if she really had to. She only has that job at the library to help pass the time whenever she’s not buried in a book or playing her day away on the piano. Any money she receives is stashed away in an old jewelry box in the back of her closet in case one day she finally decides to leave.

All that to say that romantically, men aren't something she focuses on. However, this man in particular, she could spare some of her attention to. Something about his swagger is attractive. He shifts his weight onto one foot and pokes his hip out slightly; giving her a good view of his built figure.

“Clever and charming. Guess daddy was right about you.” Paloma cocks her head to the side slightly, taking in his appearance better now that he was closer and damn, is he handsome. The type of handsome that you only see on TV. 

He’s clad in a long sleeve, forest colored shirt with a few buttons undone at the top; a gold chain teasing her against his brown skin. He’s rolled the sleeves up on the shirt up to his elbows and she notices how rugged he looks, veins on his forearms flexing ever so slightly. Tight cowboy jeans are paired with some expensive looking brown leather boots and a nice belt to tie it all in together.

Her eyes travel up from his body to his countenance, noticing how truly handsome and mature he is. Like he’s experienced things she’d never come close to imagining. She wants to know it all. The full 70s looking pornstache above his lip somehow very appealing to Paloma, whose ‘type’ up until this moment has been clean cut, military boys.

He is anything but clean cut, and she likes that. 

His lips full, nose very distinguished with a devilish curve and… stable looking. A perfect seat for her to perch herself on. She can practically feel it nudging against her clit before he completely devours her.

A lazy yet cocky lopsided smile tugs at his lips, as if he can see the filthy thoughts in her head. “Already talking me up, I see.” he greets Romeo, whom Paloma hadn’t realized had stepped outside since she was too preoccupied eye fucking the stranger in front of her. 

“Didn’t tell her nothin’ that wasn’t true. What’s that you got there?” The older man gestures to the container.

“I could spot Betty’s homemade banana puddin’ with my eyes closed.” Paloma speaks up, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment she feels for thinking so sinfully about him.

Javier’s onyx colored eyes meet hers again and she looks away almost bashfully, occupying herself by finally gathering her things.

“I couldn’t show up empty handed. Ma woulda slapped me right upside the head. Where are your manners, niño (boy) ?” He does what she would assume is an impression of his mother and this gets a giggle out of her.

She is utterly interested in getting to know him better.

“On behalf of us, you can thank your mother for instilling manners into ya. Come on in, we cleaned for once.” He jokes, ushering his company in and she just rolls her eyes playfully at her father’s antics.

The night turns out to be very enjoyable for Javi. He is in good company and the dinner provided, cooked by Paloma since she didn’t let her father take credit for any of it, definitely helped soothe over some of the smaller, sore spots left by Colombia. 

They laugh and swap stories, Javier shares some of his more lighthearted moments in the country down south while Paloma and Romeo try to out-embarrass each other with different family tales.

It helps to have some eye candy, though, as he finds it difficult to keep his eyes away from her longer than a few seconds. Even while the sheriff is in direct conversation with him, Javier can see her from his peripheral and how she also can’t seem to peel her gaze from him.

Murphy always gave him a ‘hard time’ about his effect on women and how Javier used it to his advantage. It’s the only way he got shit rollin’ down in Colombia. The only people that approached him willingly were the working ladies that resided in the city.

And who was he to turn down a good, even great time?

Quickly enough, word had spread amongst the girls and next thing he knew; he had a list of ‘informants’ so long that even he began to lose track.

It was simple, getting information from them then taking them back to his place… his car… or the bar restroom. Whatever was most convenient.

Most of the time they would come to him with bullshit leads just to see him again, and most of the time he would just give them what they wanted, which was just another blissful night with Agent Peña.

Something about Paloma, however, gives him the impression that he wouldn’t fuck her how he did those girls down south. Not unless she asked… begged him to, at least.

He’d make sure to kiss every inch of her golden skin, make her feel good and satisfied before burying himself deep inside her. What’d he do to see those pretty lips parted with his name falling from them like a prayer.

“You should sing him somethin’. ”

Romeo’s suggestion has Javier raising his brows and snapping him out of his thoughts.

They’ve moved out onto the porch, taking in the peacefulness of the night and the clear view of all stars the littered the unobscured sky. The banana pudding long gone.

“I am not some show pony you can just make do tricks whenever you like, old man.” She retorts playfully from her spot on the top of the porch steps, meddling with the rings on her fingers.

From this angle, Javier is able to get a better look at those thighs he’s been fantasizing about all night. Is it a terrible move to go after your quote un quote ‘bosses’ daughter after just meeting her? Probably, but Javi’s done worse and he’s picked up that she seems to be very keen to his subtle advances. Or not subtle, depending on how well he is able to hide any type of direct flirtation with his natural charisma.

“You shy to?” Javi asks her, lighting the cigarette that rests between his lips. He is a pro at chain smoking, this making it the fourth one he’s smoked in the last hour that they’ve been out here. 

She snorts, shaking her head and looking over at him. When their gazes meet, he can’t help the shadow of a smirk hover his lips and she slightly narrows her eyes at him.

“That one? Shy? The last damn word I’d use to describe her.” Romeo takes a swig from the scotch he’s poured, pointing at his daughter. “Sometimes I can’t get her to shut up.”

“Wow, and father of the year goes to…” She replies sarcastically, standing which allows Javier to let his eyes linger over her body, taking a long drag from the cigarette to keep his perverted thoughts at bay.

Like how he wanted to feel her thighs wrapped around his waist. Or better, his head.

“I’m just teasin’. She’s got such an angelic voice, I never get tired of hearin’ her sing.” The sincerity in Romeo’s tone pulls Javier out of his ogling, attention now over to the older man. 

“You should come see her at The Whiskey Fox weekend nights. Puts on one hell of a show.” She leans back against the railing, crossing one foot over the other. This causes the shorts of her romper to rise up slightly, exposing more of her skin.

Like a moth to a flame, he’s eyeing her once more but doesn’t make it as obvious. He wouldn't want to be chased out of here by a shotgun wielding, overprotective father.

“Is The Whiskey Fox the spot to go to in town?” Javier asks to no one in particular, ashing his cigarette on the small plate that sits on the small table between him and the sheriff.

“More like the only spot in town. It’s a bar with a stage, n’they have the best loaded fries. Swear.” She informs him, once again commanding his undivided attention.

No matter how many times he looks at her, he’s still taken aback by how breathtakingly beautiful she is.

“Well if you swear then I guess I’ll have to stop by some time.” He nods his head towards her and she smiles softly, pushing herself off the railing.

“Just give me a heads up when you decide to make your first appearance.” He hears a hint of flirtatiousness in her statement, as if she’s rolling the ball in his court to make the first move. 

As badly as he wants to take her up on that, thinking on a whim like he always has; Javier stops from doing so. This was a chance for him to start anew, amend for all the mistakes he made in Colombia.

But she’s making it very difficult for him to.

Did he really have any intention of changing if all it takes to throw caution in the wind is one pretty girl?

“As much as I’d love to stay in the pleasure of y’alls company….” She runs her hands down the front of her outfit and begins to head inside, “I have to be up early to open the library. You still takin’ me, daddy?” She asks the sheriff softly, stopping by the front door and Javier looks away, glancing out into the distance.

The older man grumbles out, “Yeah. We gotta get that car of yours up and runnin’ though. Don’t know how many free rides I got left in me.” The statement piques Javier’s interest and he can’t help but to rejoin the conversation.

“Got car problems?” He looks between them two, gaze lingering over her as she speaks up. 

“Yeah, my Darla quit on me ‘bout a month ago. Mechanic in town can’t seem to fix the problem.” Paloma seems annoyed by that fact and that has him offering to help before his own brain can stop him from doing so.

“I restored my truck. Had some help from my pops but I pretty much got her up and runnin’ all by myself.” Javier takes another puff of his cigarette, keeping a small smirk at bay as he catches Paloma’s attention drift over to his vehicle in interest. “I wouldn’t mind takin’ a look at yours. If that’s okay. ”

Her father also lets out a sign of content, “That’d be fuckin’ great, Javi. Godsend this guy, poppin’ into town and helpin’ me solve all my goddamn problems. What’s it been— not even a day? Shiiit.” Romeo lets out a laugh, finishing off the contents in his short glass.

Javier would usually find this amount of praise annoying–– ass kissing to keep him content in the shitty position he’s been put it in. However, in this instance, he doesn’t really mind it. It would also give him an opportunity to get to know Paloma better without it crossing over into more nefarious territory.

“Yeah, very sweet of you. I’d really appreciate that.” Yet another glimpse of her enchanting smile. She bends down to place a kiss on her father’s cheek and then waves at him. “Good night y’all. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña.” Even though Javi had already told her to call him by his first name earlier, he can’t help but enjoy the way his surname pushes past her lips. That sweet voice of hers sounding like pure honey.