Chapter 1 #2
I gave the cashier a few bills and told her to keep the change, and Armando said, “I’ll pay you back when we get to the hotel.”
“That’s not necessary.”
When he looked up at me with those big, wide doe eyes of his, I was struck by how attractive he was. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re a very nice person.”
“I assure you I’m not. Far from it.”
“Well, you’re nice to me.”
“You’re the exception.”
“Why?”
That was a good question. Instead of answering, I handed him his coffee and the bag of cookies and said, “Let’s go see if we can find a cab.”
It took some time, but eventually I got lucky and managed to flag down a taxi.
On our way back to the hotel, Armando finished his coffee and leaned against me.
Instead of eating the cookies, he hugged the small bag to his chest, like it was a stuffed animal.
That tugged at my heartstrings far more than it should have.
After a while, he murmured, “I like your accent.” I hadn’t said anything for the past few minutes, so that thought must have been bouncing around in his head for a while. “It’s very subtle, but sexy. I can’t quite place it, though. It’s like, Italian with a touch of British.”
“That’s exactly right, actually. I grew up in Italy and spent the last few years in London.”
“That sounds exciting. I’ve never been out of the country.
Actually, that’s not true. I’ve been to Tijuana several times, but that’s less than twenty miles from my apartment, so it’s not exactly some big adventure.
I’m Mexican American, so it’s kind of sad that that’s all I’ve seen of Mexico.
” He then went off on a long tangent about how he’d always wanted to take his son to meet their relatives in Oaxaca but had failed to make that happen.
I tried to tell him there was still time, but he seemed determined to beat himself up about it.
He left his shoe behind when we reached the hotel, so I picked it up and brought it with me after I paid our driver.
Armando swayed a little as he pulled his phone from his pocket and read a text.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Daddy Warbucks is hosting an after-party in his suite, and I’m a mess.
Will you please help me put myself back together?
I don’t want to embarrass my son in front of his rich in-laws. ”
I thought he looked adorable, though admittedly he was a bit disheveled. “Put this on,” I said, as I handed him the shoe, “and come with me to my room. Five minutes and I’ll have you right as rain.”
He chuckled at that and grabbed my arm to steady himself as he put on his loafer. “That expression is the kind of thing my regulars at the diner would say. Most of them are in their seventies and eighties.” He had a point. I rarely spent time with anyone my own age, and it showed.
Once we reached my room, he announced that he needed to pee and wandered to the bathroom. Meanwhile, I finished my coffee and found my lint roller. When I heard the toilet flush, I joined him and waited while he washed his hands. Then he turned to me and said, “Okay. Fix me.”
After I gave him a once-over with the roller, I re-tied his lopsided bowtie and instructed him to button his jacket.
He randomly swiped at his hair when I handed him a comb, so I took over and combed it back neatly.
Finally, I dampened a corner of a washcloth and tilted his chin up with my fingertips, so I could wipe away a smudge on his cheek.
While I was finishing up, he leaned into me and murmured, “I really want you to kiss me.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re drunk.”
“I probably should have found out if you like men before I brought up kissing.”
“I do, as it turns out.” I stepped back to take a look at him and changed the subject. “You’re all set. How do you feel?”
“Nauseous, but I don’t think I’m going to throw up.”
“That’s probably the best we can hope for.”
He followed me into the bedroom and said, “You promised me a dance.”
“Yes. I believe I did.”
“We need music.”
After a quick scroll through my phone, I settled on Sam Cooke’s “What a Wonderful World,” and Armando slipped his arms around me. As we swayed to the music, he whispered, “I’ve never danced with a man before. It feels incredible.” I couldn’t recall ever actually slow dancing with anyone.
When the song ended, he looked up at me and asked, “Will you come to the party with me?”
It was tempting, but I said, “I probably shouldn’t.” I walked him to the door and held it open for him. “Are you going to be okay finding your way there on your own?”
He nodded. “I know right where it is, because it’s across the hall from my room.”
“Okay, then. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks for keeping me company tonight.” He stretched up and kissed my cheek, and then he paused to look at me wistfully before wandering down the hall.
I shut the door and immediately regretted not getting his number, but I tried to tell myself this was for the best. Even though I was undeniably attracted to him, my life was complicated right now. The last thing I should be thinking about was getting involved with anyone.
Not that he’d want me anyway if he knew I was a criminal.
If we’d kept things casual though, maybe I could have kept my past to myself.
He’d mentioned that he lived in San Diego, and I was currently living in L.A.
I was new to California and still learning my way around, but I was pretty sure those two places were only a couple of hours apart.
I would have loved it if we could have gotten together occasionally…
gone out to dinner… fucked like wildebeests…
I tossed my glasses onto a side table and scrubbed my hands over my face. This was ridiculous. Here I was, daydreaming about a very drunk guy who probably wouldn’t even remember me in the morning.
But I hated the thought of never seeing him again, and it wasn’t too late to do something about that. What if I left a note for him at the front desk with my contact information? Then he could take it from there.
Although again, starting anything right now, casual or otherwise, was a bad idea. I didn’t even know how long I’d be able to stay in California. It was entirely possible that I might have to flee at a moment’s notice.
After pacing around and debating with myself for a while, I decided to leave it up to fate.
Armando and I were staying in the same hotel, so there was a chance we might run into each other in the lobby, or the elevator, or someplace else.
If I saw him again, I’d take it as a sign—the universe’s way of telling me this was meant to be.
Now that this was decided, I changed out of my suit and started to get ready for bed. Minutes later, a knock at the door startled me. Who could it be at this hour? Had the people who were looking for me tracked me down?
But that was pure paranoia. No one knew I was staying here. It was probably just a hotel guest who’d gotten my door confused with theirs, or maybe room service was misdelivering an order. I needed to get a grip.
I crossed the room and peered through the peep hole. When I saw Armando standing in the hallway, I threw open the door. He was barefoot and dressed in gym shorts, a tank top, and a hoodie, and he greeted me with a bashful, “Hi.”
“Hello.” As he fidgeted with his zipper pull, I asked, “What happened to the party?”
“I only lasted a few minutes. Then I said good night to everyone, went to my room, and threw up.”
“I see.”
“It actually helped. I feel less nauseous now.”
“That’s good.” I knew I was being awkward, but I didn’t know what else to say.
He looked up at me from beneath his dark lashes and asked shyly, “Would it be okay if I spent the night in your room? Mine’s way too quiet and lonely.”
“Of course. Come in.” I stepped back and held the door for him, and as he crossed the threshold I couldn’t help but grin.
The universe had spoken.