Chapter Fourteen #2
Jaime glanced up once or twice toward Alma from his prep station and smiled but didn’t lose his focus.
Alma sighed. Jaime had crushed her at the end of their relationship, but the one thing she could say about him was that he had never cheated on her nor had a wandering eye. And he’d always made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
And she still felt like that in his presence.
Right after the clock hit two, Alma escorted the last guests out.
“Good night!” The brisk bay air blew into the bar.
José and her other remaining employees closed up the bar, cleaned up, counted the till, put misplaced items away, and swept the floor.
Finally, when they finished, Alma quickly shut the door and locked it after her employees left.
Now she was alone with Jaime.
He slowly walked toward her, his gaze on her lips, and she was certain he was going to kiss her, but instead he sat at a table overlooking the ferries, which were draped in lights and docked outside.
What was she doing? Did she want to hook up with him? Could she handle it?
“So, how about my tasting?” he asked.
Right. The tasting that she had promised him.
The earthy scent of agave permeated the room from all the tequila she had served. Alma was high on the fragrance that mixed with Jaime’s masculine scent. “Coming right up.”
She went behind the bar and put together a tray of six different types of special glasses designed for each type of spirit. She placed some accoutrements, some of which Jaime had chopped himself, in a few bowls and brought the platter to the table.
Jaime smiled as she walked toward him. She also placed an assortment of bottles of tequila on the table.
“Tonight, My Fair Senor, we will be tasting six types of tequila. Blanco, joven, reposado, anejo, extra anejo, and cristalino. Each sip will take you on a journey through Jalisco, a chapter in our country of origin’s rich history.”
His voice dropped to an intense, deep tone. “Why don’t we actually go to Jalisco?”
“What?” Did he know she was planning to go with Zoila?
“It would be fun. I’ve never been there.”
“Well, I’m actually planning to go in a few weeks for business. But it’s a work trip.”
Jaime paused. “Alone? You’re going to Mexico alone? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Okay, Papá.”
He clenched a cloth napkin. “That’s not what I meant, Alma. Don’t twist this.”
Breathe. He was just being protective. “I appreciate your concern but I’m not going alone. I’m going with Zoila.”
“A work trip? With Zoila?”
“Yes, with Zoila.”
“Whatever, Alma. I just want you to be safe. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
She appreciated his concern even though it was totally misplaced. They were no longer together. “I’ll do my best. Back to the tequilas.” She pointed at the glasses.
Jaime relaxed back into his chair. “You’re so fucking sexy. Do you know that?”
“Pardon, Senor. This is a dignified tasting,” she teased.
He rubbed his hands through his hair. “I apologize. Continue, please.” He undid his bow tie, so it hung around his neck, and undid the top few buttons on his shirt. A wisp of chest hair peeked out and she gulped.
He grinned and undid one more button.
Alma pulled herself together.
She raised the first bottle; the clear liquor caught the reflection of the moonlight. “To start, we have the blanco.” She poured a small amount into his glass. “If you notice, the shape of this glass is tall and slender, which is supposed to funnel the sensation to your mouth.”
He took a small sip. “This is exquisite.”
“Enjoy the floral notes; it’s sweet and soft.” She took a glass from behind the bar and poured her own sip. She was off work now. What was the harm in partaking?
Jaime’s eyes closed for a moment. They opened and met hers. “I was taking a beat to enjoy it. It’s light.”
Alma gleamed. She had rarely met anyone, man or woman, who seemed to appreciate tequila as much as she did.
She was constantly rattling on and on about her love of this spirit, and most people she encountered just wanted to get drunk or drown out the liquor, either blended with fruit or masked by some other alcohol.
But as far as she could tell, Jaime seemed to truly enjoy the object of her affection.
And now they were both enjoying her favorite blanco together. “This is best in a margarita or a paloma. It can be aged, but often goes from the still to a tank to the bottle. That is why it’s white or silver in color.”
Jaime downed the rest of his glass, and she drank hers too. When in Rome. Or Mexico. Or Tiburon.
“For our next tequila, we have the reposado, which means rested. It is aged in barrels, which gives it the golden hue. This one is smoother on the palate. You can use it in any recipe that calls for blanco, but I like it simply with a slice of lime and a sprig of basil. And notice this glass—it’s shorter so it directs the aromas of the drink to your nose so you can smell the elements. ”
Jaime lifted the drink, swirled it around the glass, and inhaled. “Smells heavenly.” He took a small sip. “I’ve never tasted anything like that. This one is woodsy.”
“Yes! That’s the oak notes!” Her mouth widened into a smile.
He took another sip. “It’s so exciting to taste them the way they are meant to be savored.”
“It totally is. And now, we have the joven, which means…” she prompted Jaime. His Spanish sucked but he should get that one at least.
“Young, Alma. I’m not an idiot.”
“Not saying you are. Not learning Spanish isn’t your fault—it’s part of generational trauma.”
Jaime rolled his eyes. “You sound like Enrique.”
“Oh, I didn’t know he was so in touch with our cultural issues.”
“Yeah, he’s really into that stuff. He sees a therapist every week. It’s not really my thing—I spent enough time in therapy as a kid.”
Alma winced. She had hoped over the years that Jaime would seek therapy for his complex family issues, but she realized it was rarer for a man to get mental help than for a woman. It wasn’t her place to nag, but she couldn’t help but try to encourage him.
“You should go to therapy again. Seriously. It’s super helpful for me.” She put a hand on his.
He squeezed hers. “It’s not my scene, but I like talking to you.”
He leaned closer to her, their lips so close.
She pulled away. Tequila. Tequila.
“So about the next type of tequila. This is joven. Yes, it’s young. It is blanco mixed with reposado. It’s a sipping tequila. Some cheaper tequilas will have additives and will present as joven or gold, but you wouldn’t want to sip them, or you’d have a headache.”
He laughed at her joke and took another sip. “That one is nice.”
“I like it. It’s a good blend and a gorgeous color.”
He raised his brow. “You’re gorgeous.”
Alma twirled her hair. She knew the look that he was giving her. He wanted her. He was going to make his move. And she didn’t have the willpower to say no.
And she didn’t want to say no. She wanted to say yes, yes, and oh, yes.
But they still had more tequilas to taste, and she was enjoying this foreplay. “Jaime. Pay attention. You begged me to do this.”
“I’m sorry. Go on.”
She downed another shot. She wasn’t drunk by any means; over the years she had built up her tolerance to alcohol. She was buzzed but she was in complete control of her actions and desires.
“And now, we have the anejo. To be an anejo, it has to be aged for at least one year, up to three. The shorter glass is so you can appreciate it with all the senses. This one can also be sipped or can be used like a whiskey in an old-fashioned. You will taste some vanilla and bourbon notes.”
He raised his glass to his lips. If she could be that glass. Gone was the boy she fell in love with, the one she hated, the one she’d cursed. Sitting across from her was a man. A mature man who was interested in her and her work.
“This is my favorite so far. I’ve never thought to substitute it for whiskey.”
“Most people haven’t. I love the sweet flavors in it. Okay, so next we have the extra anejo, which has been aged over three years. This one is rich and luxurious. It’s a bit bold. It does well in a Manhattan.”
He locked eyes with her and sipped. “Wow. That one is strong.”
“It is. It’s an acquired taste, but I love it.”
He brushed her face. “What else do you love?”
You. No. She had to love something else. “My dog. Tiburon. My life.”
“I love the life you built, too. I’m so proud of you, Alma.”
“Thanks.” Man, it was hot in here. “And our final tequila is the cristalino. It is white like a blanco, but it is actually an anejo or extra anejo that has been filtered with charcoal, which strips the color. You can sip this one pure or mix it. It’s kind of the best of both worlds.”
He lifted the glass to his mouth and drank. “Now this is my favorite. I knew there were so many different types of tequila and had read about the differences, but it’s nothing like tasting them.”
“Yes, it’s so important to really try them. And tequila is just the beginning. Then we can get into mezcal.”
“I have a confession, Alma.”
She crossed her arms. “What?”
He stood up and stepped toward her. She didn’t step away. Then he came closer, and closer, challenging her.
Alma didn’t back away.
“I’ve been watching you all night, counting down the minutes until I could kiss you.”
Ay, this man.
Jaime slammed Alma against the wall, pressing his hard cock to her stomach.
His mouth took hers and she welcomed it.
This wasn’t their first kiss. Far from it. Maybe it was their thousandth.
But Jaime had never kissed her like this.
Every day that they had been apart made Alma kiss him harder and deeper.
She never wanted this kiss to end.
From tasting tequila to tasting Jaime, their night and their relationship had evolved into something that was as rich and complex as the finest anejo.