Chapter 9
The patio is so jam-packed that guests are forced to stand around, cocktail in hand.
Since our lunchtime reopening, we can barely keep up with the orders for smoothies, cocktails, and tapas.
Not surprising, really. We advertised the heck out of this with flyers left at hotels, pamphlets pinned to bulletin boards, and free drink vouchers that we printed and handed out.
It’s hard work, but I love it. It feels so great to be physically active instead of being trapped behind a desk all day developing a permanent hunchback.
I’m finding it actually calms my racing mind to take people’s orders, carry around drinks, and talk to guests.
Mia’s friends have settled into one of the lounge corners, enjoying their unlimited free cocktails and tapas as a thank-you for their hard work.
Juan sneaks sly glances at me from time to time, channelling his flirty energy into a smile whenever I meet his eye.
When I put his cocktail down in front of him, he briefly slides his long, rough fingers along my arm. A light shiver tickles through my body.
Thank you, Eva. He takes a big gulp of his drink.
Will you be working much longer? His blue eyes look hopeful as he gestures toward the empty cushion next to him.
I’ll do what I can to hold a seat for you.
But this spot is in pretty high demand, so you’ll have to put a rush on it.
Sofía laughs when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Real subtle, Don Juan, she giggles.
Juan shoots her a pissy glare. Boo hoo. Aren’t you tired of that one yet? he asks, slightly irritated.
I’ll retire it when you retire your horrible pickup lines. Up your game, my man, she quips.
Felix gives her a fist bump, using his other hand to take a sip of his beer.
I can’t help but laugh, too, but I shake my head. I’m sorry. I’ll be working until we close.
Juan looks at me, slightly disappointed, before shifting his attention back to Sofía to ask for examples of his supposed bad pickup lines.
Sofía throws her head back in infectious laughter. When do you guys close up, Eva? I don’t think we’ll be leaving any time soon.
As the sun slowly slinks toward the horizon, it casts an orange glow over the patio.
For just a moment, I stop to take in the beautiful view, my serving tray still in my hands.
The sea is covered in gentle ripples that reflect the warm light and gently rock it up and down.
On the beach, a few couples huddle close together on towels or directly on the white sand.
I let out a deep sigh as I soak in the peaceful scene.
The sound of Beatriz dropping a glass snaps me back to reality.
I approach a table where a vaguely familiar couple is sitting.
The man is incredibly attractive with dark, tousled hair and steel-grey eyes.
The woman has red curls and a beautiful face.
She gestures wildly as she speaks and the man lets out a huge laugh.
And then I realize I recognize them from my flight over.
It’s the fear-of-flying guy who was trying to drown his nerves in alcohol and the woman who was attempting to put him at ease.
The woman has a gleaming diamond on her ring finger that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there on the flight.
The rock is so big, it could sink the Titanic—not exactly the kind of ring I would have overlooked.
Good evening, folks, I greet the couple who are now fully in stitches.
The man wipes tears of laughter from his eyes as he squeaks out a reply. So sorry. Hi! The woman tosses me an apologetic glance as she twists the engagement ring around her finger, clearly not quite used to wearing it yet.
No worries, I say. Can I grab you anything to drink?
The couple orders a bottle of champagne before turning their attention to the menu I brought over.
While they study the options and debate the calamari versus the prawns, I clear a few tables and deliver the empty glasses and dishes to the kitchen.
The plates are covered in olive pits, bamboo skewers, and scraps of food.
Once I’ve loaded everything into the industrial dishwasher, Abuelo presses the lid down and flashes me a wide grin while he waits for the dishes to clean.
If today is a preview of the rest of the summer, I think our troubles might soon be over, kiddo. Fantastic work. He proudly musses my pinned-up hair, then grabs a cloth to wipe some water from the counter.
The kitchen door flips open and Beatriz walks in, surrounded by the smell of cigarette smoke.
When she sees how much food is waiting to be served, her expression turns to one of silent fury.
She grabs a few plates of tapas before leaving again without a word.
On the other side of the kitchen, Abuela is plating the tapas she prepared yesterday.
She shakes her head as she watches Beatriz waltz out the door.
Sometimes I can’t help but think we should be looking for a new hire, she grumbles. She puts the tapas on a tray and slides it my way. The problem is that she’s under permanent contract...
Put that out of your mind for now, Abuela, I reply, lifting up the tray from the giant table in the middle of the kitchen. We can worry about her later.
All of Abuela’s delicious bites look absolutely mouthwatering. Homemade brined olives that she cured for months in herbs and salt, dates stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in bacon, and a cheese plate with Manchego, figs, and sweet red grapes. Abuela chuckles when she spots my wide-eyed stare.
I’ll save you some for after we close, she calls out as I head to the door.
My salivary glands kick into overdrive at the anticipation of closing-time snacks and I shout out a thank you before making my way to the table that ordered all of this food.
The guests can’t quite believe their eyes when they take in all the delicacies lovingly prepared and carefully assembled onto brick-red tasting plates.
Once all the food is on the table and I’ve wished them ?Que aproveche!
, they take their first few bites and settle into a chorus of contented sighs.
Feeling accomplished, I turn around and I’m about to check in on the couple from the airplane when my gaze lands on the entrance to the patio.
My traitorous heart accelerates into a wild thud.
I freeze for just a moment while Elias’s sparkling eyes glide over my face, carefully examining my expression.
He’s wearing dark blue shorts this time, paired with a white shirt that he’s left unbuttoned at the top.
I can see the outline of his tanned pecs.
His sleeves are rolled up, leaving his tattoo clearly visible.
His dark brown hair is no longer molded into a shape that suggests he’s about to hit some balls at his private golf course.
Instead, it’s tumbling onto his beautiful face in messy waves.
His feet are tucked into white sneakers and he looks a lot more like the guy I remember from our fun night of excessive drinking.
But he didn’t come here alone. He’s standing next to a man who seems a touch older than he is, but they look so much alike.
This guy has dark green eyes, though, and he’s a bit shorter than Elias.
He also seems to have been styled to have his portrait taken for an article on Fortune 500 CEOs.
His hair has been slicked back and his casual outfit is made up of chinos and a fully buttoned-up shirt.
He’s wearing preppy boat shoes, too—I imagine his fancy yacht is anchored somewhere nearby.
Elias greets me with a curt nod and mumbles something to the other man.
His acid green eyes follow Elias’s gesture to land on me.
I want nothing more than to simply spin around and ignore the hell out of Elias and his disgustingly gorgeous head.
Instead, I stand up a little straighter and walk over to greet them like the perfect hostess I’m trying to be.
Good evening, gentlemen, I say in my friendliest tone of voice. Elias’s eyes narrow. He might have picked up on the fact that I hate his stupid guts.
Good evening, the other man replies, interrupting our staring contest. It looks like the patio is packed again. That must feel... unfamiliar. His mouth curls into a wide grin, but his eyes stay cold. I purse my lips and cast a death glare his way when I detect his snarky tone.
Oh, this is actually super easy to get used to, I reply, sweet as pie. Good thing, too. If people’s response to tonight is anything to go by, we’re looking at a pretty busy summer this year. I catch a flash of hatred in his expression, but he quickly recovers his composure.
That’s great to hear. He slaps Elias on the shoulder. You’re lucky my brother was the one meeting with you a few weeks ago. Usually I’m the one who handles contract business and I’m not nearly as accommodating as he is. He finishes with his best impression of a toothbrush-ad smile.
I let out a sound of agreement as I bounce up and down awkwardly.
I can feel Elias’s stare burning a hole into my cheek and a light shiver courses through my body.
Ugh. I would love to offer you a table, but I’m sure you can see the place is quite packed.
I wave an arm toward the patio full of guests.
We can stand, Elias says firmly.
A feeling that’s somewhere between excitement and disappointment oozes through my body at the sight of his determined expression. I swallow. Ummm, okay, great. Can I... bring you something to drink?
Elias rubs his stubbled chin, creating a raspy sound. He replies with a devilish grin. Tequila.
I fling the occasional annoyed glance at Elias who is living it up with his brother, enjoying the same drink he and I shared just a few weeks ago.
The Castillo brothers are quite the babe magnets and this might be the first time I’ve ever seen Beatriz laugh at work.
To be fair, it’s the kind of laugh that would have the average penis-owner dialling a phone sex line the second he gets home, but that doesn’t make this moment any less noteworthy.
She seems to have her sights set on Elias and I honestly can’t even blame her.
As we approach closing time, the patio becomes less and less crowded until finally there are just a handful of people left, including the airplane couple, Mia’s friends, and Elias and his brother, who have taken over one of the lounge areas.
After finishing her shift, Beatriz grabbed a closing-time drink and found a seat next to Elias, babbling to him about who-knows-what.
I can sense Elias looking over at me once in a while.
In those moments, I unwittingly try my hardest to clear tables in the most elegant way possible.
When Mia’s friends get up to leave, Juan jogs over to me for a goodbye hug.
He gives me the kind of tight squeeze that suggests he’s leaving on a years-long peace mission first thing in the morning.
When he finally lets go, I notice that Elias has moved seats and is staring at me with an unreadable look in his eyes.
Something tingles in my belly and I bite down on the inside of my cheek before deciding this is the perfect moment for a washroom break.
Once I’ve flushed and closed the door behind me, I find the woman with the red curls fixing her makeup in the mirror. I wash my hands and tuck a few stray strands of hair back into my updo. In an attempt to cool my flushed cheeks, I press my wet hands to the sides of my face.
Are you okay? the woman asks, looking at me in the mirror, a slightly worried expression on her face. I let out a deep sigh.
Just some guy problems, I admit with a shrug.
She gets a knowing look in her eyes and pats me on the back for comfort. Oof, tell me about it. She smushes her lips together to even out her freshly applied lipstick.
Stunned, my eyes dart from her face to the enormous ring on her finger.
She follows my gaze and laughs. Oh, not this one, though!
she chuckles, nodding her head in the direction of the patio.
My fiancé is one in a million, even if it did take me a million years to realize it.
She pops her lipstick back into her clutch and clicks it shut.
My ex, though? That guy cheated on me like there was no tomorrow.
I busted him at a new year’s eve costume party going at it in a supply closet.
And that’s not all. She zhuzhes her curly red hair and looks at me with a shimmer of amusement in her eyes.
He continued to use my Spotify account for months, listening to podcasts about commitment issues.
I clasp my hand to my mouth to stifle an outburst of laughter, but when I realize she’s grinning, I drop my hand and let loose.
I guess what I’m saying is: don’t jump to any conclusions early on. That man out there can’t keep his eyes off you. She winks at me, grabs her bag, and walks out the door.
I take a moment to fix my hair before following her out.
I’ve barely made it two steps outside the door when I walk face-first into a broad chest. When a much-too-familiar musky scent reaches my nostrils, I look up.
Elias has grabbed me by the arms and is holding me steady.
I’m very aware of every inch of skin where his fingers press into my arms and I swallow hard. There’s an intensity in his dark eyes.
Sorry, I say, quickly stepping back to create some space between us.
His mouth pulls to one side and he shakes his head. That’s okay, he replies.
We both go quiet and he looks at me with an expression I can’t quite place. Finally, I let out a deep breath and nod toward the patio. I uhhh... I should go serve the last few guests.
He nods and I walk past him.
Eva?
I glance back over my shoulder.
He hesitates at first, then says, This reopening has exceeded all expectations.
I burst out laughing. Wowww, that almost sounded like a compliment.
Elias chuckles as he shakes his head before opening the door to the men’s room. Don’t get too used to it.