12. Guacamole
Guacamole
Willa
F letcher sat between us the whole ride into town, but it did not stop Nash from putting his arm across the back rest and finding my shoulder to place his hand on. He kept giving my shoulder gentle squeezes as if to let me know he was there and to make sure I was okay. I won’t lie, my body is still calming down from our impromptu make-out session. That was all levels of steamy, and I would have given myself to him right there had we kept going. But, thanks to Fletcher over here, he completely pussy blocked me.
After seven months of not having any fun, except with my BOB, she is ready. I am ready. So ready to see what lies underneath this man's clothes because what I felt through them has my thighs clenching together as we drive down the road.
Once we pull in a parking garage, I notice we are near the Riverwalk.
“Hope you are in the mood for some authentic Mexican,” Nash says as he holds his hand out to help me down from his truck.
“Is there any other?” I ask, smiling.
“Have you ever had Panchitos?”
“Can’t say I ever have. Usually not on this side of the river when I come over here.”
“Well, then you are in for a treat. Family owned, and some of the nicest people you will ever meet.”
“Then lead the way, Cowboy.” Taking my hand in his, we stroll up to the restaurant, and my mouth begins to salivate with all the smells of grilled steak and chicken with all the spices.
“Nash, how are you, son?” I hear as I see a happy, larger Spanish woman walking over to us, then wraps Nash in her arms. “It has been a long time since you came to see me.”
“Not only did I come to see you, Lita, I brought someone with me.” As he pulls back from her, he reaches for my hand and pulls me next to him. “This is Willa, Lita.”
“Ohhhh, mujer hermosa. Willa, welcome to Panchitos. It is our pleasure to serve the two of you tonight.”
“Thank you,” is all I can say before she pulls me into her arms for a hug that I choose to reciprocate. I already feel this woman's genuine love in my soul. As she pulls back, she speaks to Nash in Spanish, which he clearly understands and speaks. I of course stand there smiling my little heart out because not an ounce of Italian I learned in school is going to help me in this conversation.
Soon, she leads us to a table that is inside but overlooks the lighted covered patio that looks out on the hill country in the far off distance. I am already loving how this view is not obstructed like the rest of downtown San Antonio and Riverwalk. As we take our seats, with Nash across for me, this Lita person turns back to me and places her hand over her heart and sighs. Again, I smile as she walks away. I look at Nash for a clue.
Lightly chuckling, he says, “That was my Lita. Or Rosa. I should say our families go way back, and though Rosa is of no blood relation, she has always treated my brothers and I as her own. So my brothers and I call her Lita. Meaning Grandmother in Spanish.” Nodding my head, I am slowly catching on. “I bet you were wondering what we were talking about?”
“It would be nice because I am probably one of twenty people that took a whole other language other than Spanish.”
Smiling now, he bobs his head back and forth as he stares at me.“Let me guess, French?”
“No, Italian. I took French for one semester, but had the opportunity to head to Italy one summer to ride, so I switched and so glad I did.”
“That makes sense. Other than asking how my parents and brothers were doing, which one was here just last week, multiple times with a different woman on his arm each time, she was praising me on how beautiful you are. That she senses you are a cool-headed red head, not like those crazy ones I keep hearing about. That when she hugged you, she could tell you have a gentle but broken soul that needs healing and that maybe…”
Nash goes quiet on me, and I am somewhat stuck on the whole crazy red head part, it seems like there is something more important to be said. “That maybe…”
“That maybe, we could heal each other.”
“Hmmm, okay. You look far from broken to me, but I also know how to mask it very well myself. Sensible woman over there, though, makes me nervous that she could tell by just being close to me.”
“She believes she can see to your soul through those ice castle blue eyes of yours.”
“Do you believe you can see my soul when looking into my eyes?” I ask him.
With him staring straight back, he says, “I know I can see your inner beauty in them, that you have bewitched me with them, and that there is a hint of sadness in them even when you have a smile on your face.”
“Damn, Cowboy, you sure know how to make a gal blush.”
Placing his hand over mine, he murmurs, “Enough of the heavy talk for a bit. Tell me, Willa, what do you do when you are not working at the ranch or teaching?”
“Oh, safe question…I–” Rosa brings over two margaritas with some chips, salsa, and my favorite, guacamole. Once I see that it is the perfect consistency and all fresh, I begin to dig in. Completely distracted from what I was about to say. Nash looks at me in astonishment. “I’m sorry, do I need to share this with you?” I ask, laughing and covering my mouth that is full of chips and guac now.
“Not at all, baby, not at all. I will gladly get my own, as seeing you this happy with your own bowl of guacamole makes this moment memorable.”
“Huh, that is similar to what my friend Lana says because that is what my granny always told us. Have memorable moments and cherish them. Even better if you can capture them on film. She was all about pictures and videos because she knew she would eventually grow old like her parents did and forget everything. Unless she had pictures to share to jog the memory. I was lucky to have her for as long as I did, and I know she had to have been the one looking out for me on the day of my accident.”
“My grandmother tells us the same thing. That is so crazy. Maybe it was a generational thing. Because that is her favorite line to give us. Care to talk about your accident?”
“Nah, rather not spoil a perfect evening with sad stuff. Maybe some other time.” I pop another guac filled chip in my mouth, stopping myself from even going there.
“I respect that. It seems we both like to shield others from our scars.” All I can do is nod at that statement, thinking of the one that runs down my hip then my upper thigh, the small one down my ankle along with the open wound I still have on my heart that I am not sure will ever heal up if I cannot push myself to ride fully again. I need to change the conversation before I decide to down this margarita and have him see the crazy redhead I can be.
“Oh, so back to your original question. I am getting back to competing myself, post accident. I actually got a sponsorship for an upcoming event so I can start to qualify for the American.” Nash gives me a grin and looks completely lost, so I dive into details about the events I compete in, what the American is and how great the sponsorships are.
He asks questions about my time, if anyone can sponsor, my placings, and winnings. I am unable to hold my grin when he tells me how much he is impressed with my accomplishments, and that I am the coolest girl he has ever met. Without saying much about the accident, I do speak on how I spent all my savings to save Doc Holiday and the financial strain I am in now. The sponsorship helps cover the entry fees and hotel accommodations if I need them. I just have to get my horse and I to the place.
If nothing is ever more embarrassing, crying on your first date to a striking, dapper, gorgeous man who is opulent about being so thankful for the sponsorship and thankful for my horse, family, and being able to ride again. He comes over to sit next to me and hugs me, kissing the top of my forehead, where no words are needed. No words to know that he truly cares for me and nothing else has ever felt more natural in my life other than riding a horse. Wiping my eyes as Rosa begins to walk over, he moves back to his side of the table.
“So, Nash, care to enlighten me of your last name yet, and what you do for a living that affords you the lavish lifestyle it seems you have?” I catch a quick glance of panic in his face before he straightens up and pulls a poker face on me. During this time, Rosa has brought out more guacamole, fajitas that are sizzling with immense heat and spice, along with all the sides of rice, beans, the shredded queso cheese, and lettuce. She even brought out Fletcher his own plate of steak and chicken.
Leaning down to scratch his ears, I whisper, “Why do I get the feeling you eat better than me most days?”
Nash's laughs as he hears me. “He eats better than most people I know, that is for sure.”
We both begin to fill our tortillas up with all that has been laid out before us, and as I begin to fold mine up, I look up at him. He seems to be concentrating hard as I can see a slight shake in his left hand. Turning my eyes away, I just say, “I’m waiting, Cowboy.”
“Do I really need to?”
“Dude, I have been like an open book with you answering your Q&A and just cried in front of you, which I really hate myself for right now… Besides you said you would let me know on our date. So I have been waiting.”
“I honestly never had anyone ‘dude’ me before.” He looks over at me as I take a giant bite and smiles. “You are the most refreshing thing in my life right now, Willa.”
“Oh,” I say with a surprised look on my face.
“I mean that as a compliment. You are stunningly beautiful but do not seem to recognize it or even care for that matter. For the most part, you say what is on your mind, food brings you joy, which for most women these days is not a thing. It seems you can hold your own in a tough crowd, which we will be coming back to in a bit. I just wanted you to know that. To hear that from me because this is all new to me, and I feel like a literal fish out of water, but I really like you, Willa. Since the moment you stumbled your way inside my suite, I have thought of nothing else. I went from having no idea who you were to now, I want to know everything about you. Because there is something between us, and I know you feel it too. So please take that for what it is worth to you, based on what I am about to tell you.”
“It is worth a lot, Nash. My feelings are the same, and I am very much into you. So I am listening.”
He takes a deep breath and holds my hand in his across the table. I won’t lie, his hand holding is keeping me from attaching that fajita I just created, but I guess it can wait.
He takes a deep breath. “My last name is Holdings… As in Holdings Oil Company. I am also the CEO of the company.” I can feel his hand squeeze a little tighter around mine as if he needs to make sure I do not want to walk away from this right now. I just look at him in shock. I know damn well who the Holdings are, and how the hell did I miss that the guy across from me is like the most wanted bachelor along with his brother Clint?
Oh shit…How did I not see any of this?
“I swear, Willa, I had no idea who you were until you sent me your address the other night. I am personally not forthcoming with my last name as I have learned people are not genuine and would rather use my family name and money for their own gain. Please say something.”
I can tell quickly he is genuinely pained by this conversation, but I do manage to slide my hand out from his, only for him to give me a defeated look. Looking at him, I say, “I believe you, Nash. I do. But what now? Last I heard, my family hates the Holdings name and what your company stands for. And maybe not all of it, because I get it, you are providing us oil, but also helping yourself and others get rich. The Holdings have been after my family's land for years. My family's property is off limits, Nash, regardless of who we are to each other. Unless you are willing to walk into my parents home, explain who you are, and promise to never speak of oil being spilled out of our land again, there can never be an us. My family has fought too hard to keep your company and others like it away. Even when we have been at our poorest, giving in has never been an option. That ranch is their survival, it is for the wild horses we rescue, sanctioned land, it is home to a dozen or so other animals, and a vacation spot to others who want to experience the cowboy lifestyle. Most importantly to you, it is my home. Where I learned to rope and ride, where I fell off and got back on my horse, it is where I hang my hat at the end of a long day. To me it’s home.”
I hastily gather my purse, pull out some cash, and throw it on the table. I quickly head to the bathroom to escape him from seeing my tears again . My heart is not breaking just because of who he is to my family, but because who he was becoming to me over this past week. I have never felt so much electricity, need, and want over someone my entire life. How do I ignore that?
Damnit, if there isn’t a line.
Stuck in line, praying he does not come for me, I look at the photos on the wall, hoping to stop the tears from falling. A few of them catch my eye fairly quickly, leaving me even more dumbfounded. The first one is of my granny with a woman I am unsure of. Then I see another picture that looks like a younger Rosa, with my granny in it also and a whole other family.
Wait, is that my grandpa? What the hell is going on here?
I began to follow the rows of pictures of what looks like Rosa's family as well as Nash's family over the last decade or more. I soon stop over a picture that looks just like Nash in front of a huge army tank, decked in army gear from head to toe. He is smiling and looks like he must be with his squadron of about eight men and two women. Shit, he looks to be a Sergeant. That badge on the lower part of his sleeve looks just like the one my granny sewed in my grandpa’s. It is not a typical army badge either.
With the knowledge I have from my own grandpa serving in the Army and being a Major General before he decided to finally retire to the ranch, I have so many questions, but I am not sure where to start as the bathroom finally becomes available, and I rush in.