Chapter 29
As Roman released her, it was on the tip of Ava’s tongue to suggest they make out among the barrels like a couple of teenagers,
but she swallowed the words and followed him outside and down a paved walkway that led to the museum.
The events of the day had her rethinking all her stupid rules, especially the no sexual touching one. But she had a sneaking suspicion Roman was going to make her talk first, and she still had a lot of thinking to do.
Yes, her body was very clear on what it wanted—him, in all the ways she could have him—but her mind and heart were another
matter.
She’d hoped to keep her heart out of the equation altogether, but it hadn’t gotten the memo, and the treacherous little organ
had opinions .
For one, it found his behavior today unbearably romantic. He’d immediately made up for the way he’d acted the day before,
and if that wasn’t enough, he’d shown her something that was obviously very personal to him, then followed it up by telling
her about his family.
How the hell was she supposed to resist a double punch of vulnerability like that?
Since her body and heart were in cahoots, it was up to her brain to reinforce all the reasons why the two of them could never be.
Starting with the biggest reason: he was best man in her cousin’s wedding, and the two of them being involved would make things
awkward for Jasmine.
Ava’s Primas of Power had stood by her, defended her, and helped her put her self back together after Hector left. Being with
Roman jeopardized one of the most important relationships in her life, and that should be the only reason Ava needed to stay
away from him.
So why didn’t it feel like enough?
Roman held the door to the museum open for her, and they passed through the gift shop, which sold bottles of rum, branded
merchandise, and everything needed to make rum cocktails. At the other end, they entered a large space with soft lighting
and half a dozen rectangular high top tables. The room smelled delicious, sweet and sugary, with a citrus tang, and looked
like what you’d get if a science classroom and a pub had a baby. Each table held all the tools of the bartender’s trade—shakers,
stirrers, tongs, and other things Ava couldn’t identify—along with bottles of Casa Donato rum.
At the front of the room, Roman introduced Ava to Estrella Martín, Casa Donato’s master blender.
Estrella was a firecracker—short, bursting with energy, with solid arms that looked like they packed a punch. Her cloud of
spiraling curls was a mix of gray and reddish brown, and her smooth brown face creased into a smile when she saw Ava. Dark
eyes sparkled behind round red glasses, and she pulled Ava down to kiss her cheek.
“Qué linda,” Estrella murmured, shooting a knowing look at Roman. “No me dijiste que tienes novia.”
Ava waited for him to correct Estrella and say that Ava wasn’t his girlfriend, but he just smiled, so Ava kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to correct the other woman. And if some part of her didn’t mind being mistaken for Roman’s girlfriend, well... she’d think about that later.
“So, how much do you know about rum?” Estrella asked in Spanish, getting down to business.
“More than I did this morning?” Ava replied, and the older woman laughed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you some practical tricks, and then we’ll work on the wedding cocktail. Let’s begin.”
Estrella started with a tasting, similar to the way Roman had introduced Ava to his rum the night they’d met. At Ava’s insistence,
Roman once again busted out his barback tricks. Estrella called him a show-off, but her teasing was good-natured.
“Roman is the reason I’m still here,” Estrella told Ava. “I told them if they sold to some big company that was going to swoop
in and change everything, I was out. But Roman has roots here, and more than that, he understands spirits. You know he was
a bartender, right?”
“He might have mentioned it,” Ava said, shooting Roman a private little smile.
“Bars trust him. He understands the industry better than most celebrity owners.”
Roman absently spun a cocktail shaker on the back of his hand and snorted. “I’m not a celebrity.”
“Yes, you are,” Ava and Estrella said in unison, then laughed together at his exasperated sigh.
“I was on one telenovela,” he protested. “Almost twenty years ago.”
“Who cares about that?” Estrella said saucily. “Not me. I’m talking about Pepito el cocodrilo, the character you voiced on that cartoon. What was it called? El Zoo de Mateo . My son loved that show when he was small.”
“You played a crocodile?” Ava asked, delighted.
“A baby crocodile,” Roman clarified. “You really haven’t internet stalked me?”
She shook her head. “Have you searched me?”
“I tried, but your social media accounts are private.”
“I’m a teacher. I can’t have my students following me.”
“Makes sense.” He gave her a sly look. “What would happen if I sent you a friend request?”
She shrugged and continued squeezing lime juice for the Donato Mule they were making. “Try it and see.”
“I think I will.”
Ugh, why couldn’t she stop flirting with him?
In their quest to develop a signature cocktail for the wedding, they made a mule, an old-fashioned, and a pina colada. After
they tasted all three drinks, Roman turned to Ava. “What do you think?”
Ava held his gaze and couldn’t smother the smile that curved her lips. “Thank you for asking,” she said quietly. Despite the
cool drink and the air conditioning working overtime, his answering smile warmed her to the tips of her toes.
Aware that Estrella was watching them intently, Ava took another sip from the glass in her hand, then smacked her lips lightly,
savoring the spiciness of the ginger beer.
“Personally, the mule is my favorite,” she said. “But I can tell you from years of experience, my family enjoys a pina colada
that kicks you in the teeth.”
“Let’s make it shaken instead of blended,” Roman said. At Ava’s quizzical look, he explained. “Easier on the bartenders.”
Ava consulted her notes. “Jasmine said it would be nice if the drink were a fun color, or at least looks good in photos.”
“Guava,” Estrella said decisively. “You want a pretty drink that doesn’t taste overwhelming? Add guava. It’s extremely versatile.”
“Could we add guava to a shaken pina colada?” Ava asked.
“You can add any fruit nectar or puree to a pina colada,” Estrella said. “It’s just a matter of how much.”
They got to work figuring out the perfect blend of ingredients. In addition to the guava, Estrella added some fresh-squeezed
lime juice to the cream of coconut and pineapple juice. And instead of white rum, they used the Casa Donato Siete, a gold
rum aged up to seven years. It was strong, but smoother than Ava had expected it to be, carrying a pleasant aroma of vanilla
with a hint of smokiness. The slight taste of oak, almond, and warm spices balanced the guava and pineapple nicely, and kept
the drink from being overwhelmingly fruity.
For presentation, they tested coconut flakes on the rim and a flower for garnish, but ultimately decided to keep it simple
with a dehydrated lime wheel.
Once they agreed on the final recipe, Estrella made them each a fresh drink. They stood together around the table and clinked
their glasses together.
“To the happy couple,” Estrella said with a wink.
Ava met Roman’s eyes over the rim of her glass, and the cold, refreshing drink did nothing to cool the heat in her cheeks.
Or elsewhere.
There was nothing untoward in his expression or posture. He seemed completely at ease, with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around the glass tumbler, projecting his specific brand of casual confidence. But Ava knew him well enough to see the barely leashed desire in his eyes.
Then, in a nonchalant gesture no one but her would have noticed, he slid his hand out of his pocket just enough to reveal
a sliver of white lace.
Ava inhaled sharply, then took a quick sip to cover her response. The shameless man had her panties in his pocket!
“Ava, will you be all right for a few minutes?” he asked, cool as a fucking cucumber. “I want to speak to the staff before
I leave.”
“Of course.” She gave a jerky nod. “I wanted to take a closer look at the museum exhibit.”
And get her heart rate under control.
A few people had shown up for a scheduled tour, and Roman went to greet them. Ava pretended to look at framed black and white
photos of Casa Donato in the 1950s while she wrestled her thoughts into some semblance of order.
At first, when they’d arrived at the distillery, she’d thought Roman was showing off a bit. Now she understood that this place
was a part of Roman in a way the hotels weren’t.
The Dulce Hotel Group was a brand, but through the distillery, he was conserving a piece of history and culture. It spoke
to his values not just as a business owner, but as a person.
Still, Roman had put his mark on it. The vibe matched what she’d seen in his hotels. The rustic industrial décor was tasteful
and appropriate for the setting. The combination museum and bar area invited visitors to take their time and mull over the
historical display while slowly sipping rum... before purchasing a caseload to bring home.
Roman seemed more relaxed here than when they were in the public areas of his hotels, closer to the way he was at home. Despite being the owner, Roman didn’t throw his weight around. Not that she’d ever seen him do that, but he could have. This was a fairly small operation, and it was clear he was deeply knowledgeable about the rum distilling process and the business of artisanal spirits. Even so, he’d let Joaquín lead the tour, and he deferred to Estrella as the expert during their mixology lesson. Moreover, it was obvious to Ava that the people who worked here liked and respected him. He knew everyone’s names and asked about their families, and he was respectful of the original Donato family who’d started the distillery.
The man was almost too good to be true. He’d taken the feedback she’d given and immediately put it into practice. He hadn’t
punished her for speaking up for herself—instead he’d cared for her all night, apologized, and done something special for
her.
He made her feel... safe, she realized. There was safety in being able to voice her feelings and knowing she wouldn’t be
chastised or met with a defensive attitude.
And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy being with him. He was funny, caring, and open. He was willing to hear critique
and change. He took responsibility for himself and his actions in a way Hector never—
Shit. The difference finally hit her. Hector had been a boy , whereas Roman was a man .
Hector, as much as Ava had once loved him, had never grown up. He’d been a little boy who wanted a mommy to take care of him,
and Ava had eagerly jumped into that role, thanks to the toxic and deeply imbalanced cultural gender roles that had been modeled
for her throughout her life. No wonder their relationship had been unsustainable.
Roman didn’t need a mommy. He was a grown-ass adult who ran multiple businesses, provided for his mother and sister, and willingly opened up about his feelings. Not only that, he could listen to someone else talk about their feelings without pouting.
He was so mature it scared her, because it meant she’d have to rise to his level. She’d given into fear that morning, pulling
back after letting him get too close. Instead of storming off or getting defensive, as Hector would have done, Roman had cut
through her peevishness with patience and maturity.
Now he looked over from where he chatted with the gift shop attendant, sending Ava a smile so broad and full of life that
it nearly broke her heart.
When this ended, it was going to hurt .
Once the tour group left, Roman strolled over to her.
“I’ve called for the car,” he said. “Do you want to go to the beach when we get back? Before dinner?”
“Absolutely,” she said without a second’s hesitation.
Fuck her rules. Figuring out how to break things off after they got back to New York was a problem for Future Ava.
Present Ava was going to enjoy every single second they had together.