Chapter Fifteen #2
Jaime parked and Alma lifted Tequila out of the car. Her dog peed on a nearby bush and Alma poured some water into her portable bowl, which the pug lapped up eagerly.
Alma smiled as she glanced across the road at the rustic café filled with plants. It was the same one they used to frequent. “Wow, we first came here seven summers ago. Remember?”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ll never forget. You were wearing that yellow sundress.” He lowered his voice. “With that matching lace bra and thong. I couldn’t wait to take you home, eat your pussy, and fuck you.”
Whoa. Alma’s cheeks heated. He’d been overly polite since they had reunited, but hearing him remembering her in such a sexual manner rattled her. But since that kiss, it was clear that he wanted her again, at least sexually.
And she had to admit—she wanted him too.
Jaime checked in with the hostess, and she led them to an outdoor table. The café was decorated with rustic charm. There was a trellis dripping with vines and thick-cut wooden tables. Jaime pulled out her seat. He was really coming in strong with his gentleman act, well, minus his dirty talk.
The waitress brought a doggy menu for Tequila and read the specials. Jaime ordered a gourmet hamburger with all the fixings and Alma chose the smoked trout and ordered a bowl of steak and rice for Tequila.
Jaime perused the wine list, but Alma took it from him.
“Allow me.” But she didn’t order any wine—she ordered a blood orange margarita with mezcal and a Tajín rim and a blackberry margarita with tequila and a black salt garnish.
Jaime licked his lower lip. “Excited to taste the drinks you ordered.”
“I love mezcal. It’s smoky.”
“Until you gave me that tasting, I didn’t really take the time to learn about it. I would just drink it to get drunk.”
“Oh, it’s so good. And there are so many new opportunities for it. Tequila is only from the blue agave plant and mezcal can be from any type of agave plant. Also, the cooking process is different.”
Jaime’s eyes lit up. “How so?”
Alma’s heart beat rapidly. The years between them seemed to dissolve.
“Well, the blue agave pina is steamed in a brick oven. Most tequilas will have somewhat of a consistent taste because they are made in similar ways, though the good brands are cleaner. With mezcals, the agave plant is roasted by the mezcalero or in some places the mezcalera. It’s put into the ground to cook, which is why it tastes so smoky.
There are so many amazing artisan batches and mezcaleros. ”
“How did you get into this? Why did you leave wine?”
“I don’t know. With wine, I loved it, but I didn’t feel called to it.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m Mexican or not, but I felt a deep connection to the people who made these spirits.
” She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the warm sunshine.
“I went to Mexico after we broke up, and we met someone whose family made tequila. Once I saw the process and met the makers, that was just it for me.”
Jaime relaxed into his chair. The waitress brought the drinks and placed a drink that reminded Alma of the Sonoma sunset in front of him.
He sipped on the blood orange margarita.
Alma studied his expression. “What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful. Like a barbecue aftertaste.”
“Well, that’s one way to put it. Try mine.”
He popped a blackberry into his mouth and then sipped the drink. “This is closer to what I’m used to. Very clean.”
“Yeah. That one is more standard. We can do a tasting of the different mezcals back at the bar.” She stopped. What had she just said?
He winked. “So, I get another date?”
A blue bird flew over their heads. She focused on it for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts.
“I guess. I’m just confused, Jaime. I feel like we’re talking in circles.
I can’t lie and say that I’m not having strong feelings sitting here across from you.
If I forget about the past, this is just easy breezy.
You and I, having lunch in Sonoma, drinking, just like old times.
And that kiss was incredible. But I don’t want to get hurt. ”
“I’d never hurt you again, Alma.”
Ugh, this man. “So, what does that mean? Listen, Jaime. Don’t even try to kiss me again, unless you mean it. I got over you once, but I don’t think I can do it again. Let’s just keep this friendly.”
He took her hand across the table. “If I kiss you again, you’ll be the last woman I ever kiss.”
Alma couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Are you serious right now? Don’t give me one of your lines. I’m spiraling here, Jaime. Sorry that I sound so pathetic, but seeing you, hanging out with you, kissing you, has really rattled me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to that.”
The waitress walked over with their food. “Can I get you anything else?”
Just a lobotomy. “No, we’re good, thanks.”
Alma focused on her food. The fish was buttery and fragrant. She sipped her margarita and got lost in the moment. When was the last time she went out just for fun and not for work? This day, even though being with Jaime was challenging, was blissful.
Jaime downed his drink. Alma didn’t bother telling him it was best sipped slowly.
“So, did you know your brother wants me to donate to his soccer club?”
Alma gulped.
“Really? I can’t believe he asked you that. You don’t have to. I’m so sorry.” She had always known Jaime was rich. Crazy fucking rich. But she never wanted him to think she or her family was interested in his money.
“Don’t be. Carlos wants the students to have great opportunities. And he deserves to be paid well for his work. I want to help. I’ll talk to the foundation board.”
“Don’t feel guilted into helping the program. We appreciate you and your family’s help at the festival. But you don’t need to do this.”
“I know. But I want to. It’s important to me to support things I care about. And I care about soccer. And your family. I’m sorry. I know it’s awkward.” He wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“I get it. He wants you to raise money for the Canal and his program.”
Time to change the subject. “How are your brothers?”
“Well, Ramón is getting married to his fiancée Julieta this summer. She’s great.
A super-talented chef. She has a really close-knit family.
Randomly her mom, Linda, and our dad used to date back in Mexico when he was there surfing over spring break years ago.
Linda actually made him his first fish taco, which inspired our taco business. ”
“Wow. That’s random. And a bit creepy.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Linda hated my dad. He told Ramón that he returned to Mexico to propose to her but saw her with another man, who was Julieta’s father.”
“Oh, that’s so sad. How are they both now?”
“Linda still hates my dad because he and Ramón tried to gentrify the block Julieta’s taco shop is on. Ramón, of course, saved the day because he’s a hero, but Linda hasn’t forgiven my dad. But I hope they will be civil one day. They will both be at the wedding.”
The wedding. Alma used to fantasize about a big, beautiful wedding to Jaime. Now, she only dreamed of finding success in business. She could wear a fancy white gown to an awards ceremony sometime.
“When is it?”
“In August. In Coronado.” He paused and stuffed a french fry in his mouth. “Want to be my date?”
Alma shook her head. “Don’t play with me. I can’t be your date to your brother’s wedding. That’s too intimate.”
“Why not? You know my entire family; they will be here to promote the festival.” He gazed at her dress. “And I’d be honored to be there with you.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be single at the wedding? Pick up one of the beautiful bridesmaids?”
“Nope. None would be as beautiful as you.”
“Ay, Dios mío, stop teasing me. I can’t take it.”
“Maybe I’m not teasing you, Alma. Maybe I’m dead serious.”
“Well, maybe isn’t good enough.” She finished her food and purposely didn’t give him an answer.
He didn’t deserve an answer. Her seeing him up in Northern California on her turf was one thing.
But down in Southern California, in his hometown, where he was a socialite and seen as a king, was a whole other issue.
Not to mention, there would be some type of press at this wedding.
Would there be pictures of them together?
She couldn’t fathom the level of hate she would receive on her socials for dating California’s most eligible Mexican.
With Ramón engaged and Enrique in a serious relationship, Jaime was the lone Montez left.
For years the media hailed the trio as the sexiest Latinos, and with Jaime’s looks, he had endless thirsty women commenting on his every post. Alma wanted nothing to do with the hate she would receive if he committed to her, even though she had been his one and only, once.
They shared a crème br?lée, Jaime paid, and they left the restaurant. Alma walked Tequila in the nearby park, where she chased after and barked at the ducks.
As they sat on a bench, Jaime put his arm around Alma’s shoulders, cautiously at first. She didn’t pull away and he squeezed her tighter.
His hand felt so lovely against her. She felt safe, at peace, even loved.
“I’m glad they haven’t changed this park. I love the ducks. So does Tequila.”
“Yeah, it’s so beautiful here. I forgot how much I loved it up north. It’s so much cooler and laid-back.”
“You used to get bored up here.”
“Yeah, I did, but I was younger. I’ve done a lot of living, and I want to slow down.”
With her? Alma was careful not to read anything into his words. “I get that.”
“Alma, I can’t change the past. But I’ve never found any woman as incredible as you. Would you at least open yourself up to not hating me?”
“I don’t hate you, Jaime. It’s the opposite. I’m just scared.”
“I’m scared too.”
He put his thumb under her chin and lifted it. What was he doing? And why was she letting him do it?
She tilted her head toward him, her heart wanting to kiss him, but her head screaming at her to stop.
He closed his eyes, and she did as well.
Their lips met in a soft kiss. It was nothing like their first kiss ever, which had been after a boozy night at a party in the dorms. He had slammed her up against her door in a passionate fit and she had kissed him back with abandon.
Back then, she was full of lust and wonder; now she was filled with cautious hope and trepidation.
Or like their last kiss at Mezcalifornia, which was like scratching an itch of longing and sexual tension to the reunited lovers.
This soft kiss turned more urgent, as his hand cupped her face. She wanted more of this, more of him.
She finally pulled away.
His words rang in her head.
If I kiss you again, you’ll be the last woman I ever kiss.
That could never possibly be real. Alma knew it in her heart and Jaime probably did also.
But for a second, Alma held on to the hope that those words were true.
Ay, what had she done?