I must’ve stared at them for several seconds. Another consequence of being blown out of my mind. Everything around me garnered more concentration and had more meaning. Everything was a source of creation, even something as small as a pair of men’s shoes.
They were definitely leather with double straps over the top of his feet. However on the surface, images were carved into a design. I squinted and tried to get a better look.
His dark voice broke my concentration. “You like my sandals?”
“Yes. What’s the image?”
“Wolves eating each other.”
I took a step closer and examined them some more. “You like wolves?”
“No.”
I snapped my attention to him.
A smirk sat on his face.
He’s lying. Why? Wait a minute. Stop thinking. You’re high. Stay in the present moment.
“There called monk shoes. Hand-stitched. Each pair is $7, 350—”
Annoyed, I waved away the rest of the information. “Who did the wolves?”
He parted his lips for a second as if I’d caught him off guard. “Uh. I don’t know.”
“For that much money, they should tell you who did the design. It’s amazing. Anyway.” I extended my hand. “Hello, Dr. Sheep.”
“Hello to you too.” He gazed at my hand. “Did you enjoy the Oracle?”
“You sent the gold joint?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” I kept my hand in front of me. “It was heavenly. Remind me to return the favor one day.”
He said the next words as if it was a funny question. “You’re going to smoke me out, one day?”
“Yes. It’s only fair.” I shrugged. “It won’t be Oracle. It’ll probably be regs, truthfully. I don’t have the money for the high-end stuff.”
“That’s fine. I’m definitely going to take you up on that.” Smiling, he captured my hand.
I could’ve sworn he licked his lips like a wild beast ready to take a bite, but that had to be my own high imagination. At the appropriate moment, I attempted to pull my hand away. He tightened his grip just a little and kept my hand encased in his. A warmth spread through me.
It couldn’t have been him inciting my body to react. It had to be something else—the marijuana, brownies, the electricity in the air between us, the bright stars glowing around the moon, my lack of love life, my feeling at peace.
It couldn’t have been this man, making me ache between my thighs.
And they ached,
so bad I squeezed them together and bit my bottom lip.
The server should have added that Oracle makes you horny too.
Still holding my hand, he seared me with a heated gaze. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a very long time.”
“You have?” I pulled my fingers away and stepped back.
“Yes. I’ve seen every mural that you’ve done in Wynwood. Each one, I’ve visited at least three times.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Skeptical, I asked. “What’s your favorite?”
“Your foreboding ode to hip hop. That was the first one to make me fall in love with you.”
I froze.
In love with me? Okay. In love with my art. That’s what he meant. Really, Red? Just drink some water and take your behind back downstairs.
“So,” I cleared my throat. “I’m pretty high right now. I don’t like to do business this way. Would it be okay if we met on another day to discuss your mural? Plus, I should really get back to my friends, especially Colleen. Well, we call her Coco. She’s like the grandmother of our group.”
Babbling some more, I went into a harsh impression, scrunching up my face, wagging my finger, and speaking in a scratchy voice. “Red, stay away from strangers.”
“Well, I’m not a stranger.” He licked his lips. “I’m just Dr. Sheep.”
He did lick his lips! He did. I’m not that high. Or wait, did that happen? Or do I just want that to happen? God, I liked the way he flicked that full lip with his tongue.
He leaned forward. “Red?”
“Yes.” I stepped back.
He moved forward. “Don’t rush off to grandmother’s house just yet.”
I wrinkled my forehead, thought about what he said, and giggled. “Aww. Little Red Riding Hood. I get it. Funny.”
He inched closer. “I like that story.”
His intoxicating scent swarmed around me. It was odd for Miami. He smelled like a man should. It was rich with fragrant hints of cedar and leather as if he’d just finished chopping logs, showered, and sat next to the fire of a long cabin.
I want to sit by that fire with him. . .I mean. . .I need some water.
“Red?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like that story?”
“Of course. I just wish Red had cut her way through the wolf’s stomach, instead of the lumberjack.”
“What?” He seemed to tense in front of me.
“Those tales always have some guy saving the girl. If I’d been her, I would have killed the wolf myself.”
“Then I’m glad that I’m a sheep.”
Something about the way he said it, made me nervous.
“Are wolves really that bad?” he asked.
I blinked.
Did he get closer to me without me noticing?