Chapter Six
Genevieve
“Good, I’ll make sure you have the time of your life.”
Those words resonated in my brain a couple of hours after Adrián spoke them to me, with his deep rumbly voice, so close I could have gotten on my tiptoes and stolen a kiss. How would his plump lips taste? Probably as delicious as he looked in the current board shorts and white tank top as he carried some additional rollaway beds with Chichi to one of the guest rooms. I could spy him through the window next to the front desk in the casita, which was deceptively more extensive than expected.
The front desk was adjacent to a little living area with beautiful, colorful decor. The walls sported clay plates and houses hand painted in watercolors with Panamanian folkloric motifs. There was a second expansive room with additional wooden furniture and what Claudia explained in between tasks was the only TV in the hostel. That opened to a large outdoor area and a gorgeous crystalline pool surrounded by palm trees, wicker loungers, and patio furniture.
The group of Americans ended up being a Black “grown and sexy” excursion for singles and married couples. I learned more about the group as I helped Claudia with the check-in, taking credit cards and swiping them for incidentals.
One of the guests, a single woman of forty who recently divorced, accompanied by her two best friends, explained this was a package they’d bought through a magazine for Black travelers and adventurers.
“So what’s this excursion about? How do you know all these people?” I asked them.
“You haven’t heard of Black Travel Chronicles?” The woman flashed her phone to me showing an aesthetically pleasing IG page with photos of paradise or Black people traveling in each post.
I immediately struck up a conversation with them, finding out that Black Travel Chronicles was an up-and-coming paper and digital publisher that showcased destinations, hotels, restaurants, and cities that were friendly for Black travelers—not only that, but they highlighted rich cultural experiences for Black millennials and Gen Xers.
“I love the concept! I don’t travel for leisure often, but when I do, I’m always looking for information on the city’s Black history, neighborhoods, and Black-owned businesses to give my money to!” I said, excited to have found this website and social media accounts. This was a game changer for me when I traveled next. Wow, thinking of my next vacation felt like a step too far, but...why not? There wasn’t anything wrong with plotting my next adventure.
“Yeah, girl, we found their social media page a few years ago and have loved their articles and posts ever since. When they advertised this excursion, I knew I had to jump on it,” Telisha, the guest, said as I finished her check-in process.
This little hostel being exposed by the magazine was fantastic. I’m not certain how it had happened, because Adrián and his sister seemed to be surprised by the business, but this was at the heart of the conversations Adrián and I had often shared—how could we invest in us? The possibilities of Black Travel Chronicles and Black-owned hospitality lingered on while I continued checking people in.
Thank God Claudia and Adrián had the same system we had in the Tropics; it allowed me to jump in and help Claudia. Once we finished with the line, Claudia sagged with relief.
“Well, now I can go to the Buenona and help out Mario before the excursion descends on the fonda for dinner.”
“Oh, you know the owner of the Buenona? I’m looking forward to trying out the food there.”
“Waooo, girl, you really just came here with my brother knowing nothing about him? The Buenona is the family’s as well. You really must be dickmatized if he got you to come, and you two barely know each other. I mean I wouldn’t, but hey, I get it, he’s a handsome man. He could really have been taking you to your death, and you just went willing.” Claudia’s whole body language exuded “couldn’t be me” energy.
Damn. She wasn’t wrong. I floundered for what to say, shocked at Claudia’s assessment. I prided myself on my methodical and meticulous evaluations. Still, for some reason, I’d blindly hopped into Adrián’s car and traveled two hours to a remote town in a country where I had very few people that knew me. All on a whim. But of all the people I had connected with in Panamá, Adrián was the one I connected the most. And subconsciously, I recognized I could trust him, and I decided to trust my gut. I did it all the time with work, why not in my personal life as well?
“Tropics vetted Adrián before I even arrived in Panamá. They take security real serious. It just takes a call...” I shrugged and finalized inputting all the information for the day’s check-ins. My instinct was to go through the process again to ensure everything was done correctly, but I didn’t want to go into overdrive work mode.
“Well, damn. You told me.” Claudia winked. “I forgot that Adrián was your driver before anything else. Well, enjoy your stay with us. I really appreciate your help today. You should relax for the rest of the two weeks...oh and—” Claudia’s face transformed into a menacing scowl. “You better not break my brother’s heart. He’s gone through a lot these past years. If you hurt him, you’ll have to deal with me.”
Everything in me froze; I kept my face impassive. This morning I had been planning to relax and explore Aguimar on my own; hours later, here I was, being threatened by Adrián’s sister, like the villain in a rom-com. But this was real life, and Claudia needed to chill. I had only the best intentions about my stay here and if those intentions came with a side of dick, then I was all for it. But I wasn’t one to lead people on. I believed in being clear and concise with any expectations.
“Listen, Claudia, I might be quiet, but don’t mistake my silence for anything else but that. I came here for vacation and your brother was kind enough to invite me, I didn’t ask him. I’ll be gone in two weeks, so no need to worry about me hurting your brother, okay? His heart is not in danger here.”
Mine on the other hand...
Claudia let me finish, unperturbed...then she burst into cackles. She threw her hands up, and shrugged, then beamed at me.
“You really believe that, don’t you? Oh God, this is gonna be fun.”
Armed with Claudia’s instruction to find the family quarters, I took the one path that did not connect to the guest rooms. It was easy to find once I realized it was made of pebbles and gravel compared to the smooth cement paths for the rest of the cabanas.
Claudia’s words nagged me, same as the mosquitos buzzing around. No heartbreaking would happen at the end of these two weeks because my heart would not be involved in any of the activities with Adrián—only relaxation and friendship. Her words had gotten close to my nightly dreams about Adrián, and my fantasies of meeting him in Florida instead of in Panamá, and what that would have meant for the two of us. But it was a fantasy, nothing more.
Back to choice two.
A light sweat gathered on my back, thanks to the relentless heat. Not even the slight breeze alleviated the torture. I really hoped Adrián had AC. I’d learned that the ventilation system in many houses in Panamá consisted of an abundance of screened windows and ceiling and standing fans.
With the typical humid heat of the country, how were people productive at all? If it was me, I’d be languishing under four fans and still need a large pitcher of cold lemonade to relax. No wonder Anita had warned me to be strategic about my blowouts. Already my hair felt coilier than the morning.
The vegetation around this path grew thicker, wilder than the manicured trails around the guest quarters. The greenery here had a different quality to it. The trees and plants seemed to bide their time to reclaim the man-made lanes. My lungs filled with clean air and the scent of damp earth as I hoisted my backpack more securely on my back. Adrián had offered to put it away when he took my luggage, but I’d waved him away, focused on the work needed to check in the big group. That had been a mistake.
The path took a sharp right turn into a large clearing adorned by abundant bright pink bougainvillea along the perimeter. Seeing so many beautiful flowers filled me with a sense of rightness. On the opposite side of the clearing stood two cabanas. One was an actual full home, with a cute porch that had the typical Panamanian low cement wall framing the gated entrance, leading to the main door of the flat house. Based on Claudia’s explanation, this was her home. A few yards away from that stood a cabana similar to the ones for guests but larger. Outside, a small open porch boasted a rocking chair, a hammock, and a few planters.
My home for the next two weeks.
A cold, then hot trickle traveled through me as I approached the door. Adrián would be behind that door. We’d be together behind these closed quarters as our connection pulled and tugged, propelling me to make these hasty decisions. When we were together, in the quiet of Adrián’s vehicle, chatting on the way to the Tropics or back home...those moments had become the foundation for each choice, cemented on an undeniable attraction and an unmistakable chemistry. I’d traded my sensible brain for this hot girl summer mentality that made me say yes to anything Adrián offered. And I wasn’t even trying to change that.
I knocked, attempting to chase away my nerves.
“Come in.” Adrián’s deep voice came from within.
Without hesitation, I walked in, trying to prove to myself that the Hot Girl from the morning still lived inside. The whole day had been as if a doppelg?nger had taken over my thoughts and behaviors. My shy, reserved nature, which I’d learned to disguise around people, had come to full life around Adrián.
“Welcome,” Adrián said with a sexy smirk, and my lips twitched to mirror his. He leaned against a frosted-glass divider, all relaxed and coiled strength. I looked away before I ended up drooling or something worse, pouncing on him.
The room had a small living area with two wicker chairs and a wicker sofa with comfortable cushions. Windows stood open all around the house, with the necessary screens to keep mosquitos out.
On the opposite side, I spotted a small kitchenette, and right next to it, a working station. A frosted wall stood in the middle as a partial divider between the living area and the bedroom, with open spaces on both sides of the border.
Being in his space appealed to me. It smelled like him, leather and wood, and had assorted knickknacks everywhere. Several different models of tiny homes, vehicles, and even an airplane covered any available flat space, bringing Adrián’s personality to the forefront.
“So, this is your little cabana. It’s cute.”
“Cute, damn. I wasn’t going for cute. More like manly, comfortable, sexy.”
I chuckled at his aggrieved tone and studied all the little details that made this place uniquely Adrián’s. The books stacked on the coffee table in the living area were novels from the look of it. The kitchenette had a bowl full of different fruits. He probably picked them as he navigated around during the day and brought them here. The TV in the living area had a streaming box, but there was a DVD player and a collection of action movies right underneath.
“It’s all those things, as well.” I grinned and closed the door behind me.
Immediately I took off my shoes, not wanting to track dirt in his space.
“Did you just clean up?” The fresh scent of house cleaner permeated the room.
“I did, but for the record, the space was already in order. But an extra cleaning don’t kill nobody. And I changed the sheets on my bed, you’re all good there. Let me show you.”
“Oh, that is beautiful,” I exclaimed, walking behind him to the sleeping section of his cabana. Adrián’s huge bed faced the beachfront. A plushy three-seat oversized sofa sat on one side of the wall. Here, everything was minimalistic. The opposite wall had the door leading to the bathroom. A potent ceiling fan whistled low, no AC, making my hair fly a little.
My heart soared as I focused on the greenery and lush bougainvillea right outside the sliding door. The crash of the waves lured me, and I wandered closer to the glass, afraid to touch it lest I woke up in my bed in South Florida, ready for work yet again. The beautiful Caribbean Sea glittered magnificently in the late afternoon light, and I closed my eyes, giving silent thanks for the day’s blessings.
“Oh... Adrián, this is breathtaking. Thanks, thank you for inviting me,” I said, facing Adrián, who stood as if a lightning bolt had struck him, frozen. “Are you alright?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m equally grateful to have you here. Are you good with us sleeping so close to each other?”
I flushed, studying the large king-size bed. The sheets were freshly tucked, and there was an abundance of pillows I planned to enjoy. Unbidden, the memory of Adrián’s hand on my waist earlier made me shiver. If that slight touch turned me into molten molasses, what would sleeping next to him do to me?
“Yeah, sure, sharing a bed is...fine. I mean we’re adults, and we can—It’s okay. No problem.” At that precise second, my arms, in a show of unnecessary independence, disregarded any of my mental orders. My arms transformed into one of those inflatable long-armed dancing balloons outside of car dealerships. Smooth.
“Ahm. I’m not sleeping on the bed. I’m sleeping there.” Adrián choked, then pointed to the large sofa, which I now noticed also had a sheet draped over a folded single sheet and two pillows.
“No, you’re not. That’s no...that’s not the plan.” Heat rose to my cheeks at what my words implied.
“Oh, so I’m going to find out the plan? Does this involve choice number three? Please tell me more.” Adrián sauntered toward me, standing much too close for the comfort of my heart and the state of my underwear.
Being around Adrián was like visiting an amusement park. Exhilarating but tummy-ache-inducing. He tucked his bottom lip behind his teeth, and I wanted to kiss him until I could suck the bottom lip into my own mouth.
Madness. That was what this was. How could he elicit so many emotions in me in less than twenty-four hours?
“No, I meant, I don’t want you to have to give up your bed. That is not what I intended when I decided to stay. I don’t want to put you out of your way.” There, that sounded like the thirty-seven-year-old composed woman I actually was. Girl, about damn time you showed up.
“Mmm-hmm. I still want to know what choice three entailed. But I’m going to let that slide. Want to go have dinner at the fonda? Then we can come back and haggle about who sleeps where.”