CHAPTER 25
Antonio purposefully told Jackie very few details about this reward, which—if he was being honest—had been a spontaneous idea.
The day had been tense. Jackie had just barely begun to forgive him, and he’d pushed her too far with his failed attempt to talk about their feelings over breakfast. He should have known she’d need some time.
And then there was the zipline, obviously a nightmare for her.
Antonio figured this would take their mind off things.
He wanted to take Jackie out on a real date.
Just as he was about to go check on Jackie, he heard the unmistakable clack of her heels against the tiled floor.
When he looked up, he was met with the most arresting vision.
She was clad in a multicolored sundress, gold jewelry, a gold clutch, and gold strappy heels.
Antonio had to remind himself to breathe as she stepped closer.
She motioned to her dress. Antonio looked at her from head to toe, starting with the perfectly coifed curls that lay on her forehead, moving to the matte red lips, and ending on her glowing dark bronzed skin.
She didn’t need his approval, but he couldn’t help but be honest. “It’s…
you’re…perfect,” he said. He could have sworn Jackie blushed, just a little bit.
It’d been ages since he made her do that.
And he wanted to keep having that effect on her.
Jackie cleared her throat and pulled out her phone to type. “This isn’t a date. This is you rewarding me for my bravery today. That’s all.”
Not a date? Could have fooled him, because she was standing there looking all types of delicious. Fine, he’d let her believe that.
Antonio held up his hands. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Lucky.” He motioned toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Jackie headed toward the front door. Dear God…
The back of the dress dipped low, almost to the top of her juicy ass.
It dipped almost low enough to see that tattoo.
The thought of that four-leaf clover instantly took him back to the night they’d gotten their tattoos…
and the other night, when he’d gotten reacquainted with its placement on her body.
Antonio adjusted himself in his tightening slacks, praying Jackie wouldn’t turn around and catch him.
He let out a breath and looked up to the ceiling.
Lord, why did you make this difficult woman so damn fine?
This must have been a new form of torture.
As they made their way past the lobby and concierge desk, Antonio was careful not to let Graciela see them.
She wouldn’t approve of them leaving the property—not that it was any of her business!
When they made it outside, they were met by a small man with graying, long hair, puffing a cigar next to a classic Benz.
“Ah! Antonio?” he said. “Soy Hector, primo de Lupe.”
Antonio shook his hand. “Lupe’s cousin, yes. Mucho gusto. I’m Antonio. And this is my…” He turned to look at Jackie, who had a brow raised. “My friend. I mean, my colleague, Jackie.” Friend seemed like too small a word. And of course, she was more than a colleague.
“Senora,” Hector said, taking Jackie’s hand and kissing it. “?Muy linda! Come!” Hector opened the back door to the car and Jackie slid in, followed by Antonio.
“You know where to go, right?” asked Antonio.
“Of course. You want the best. I take you to the best,” Hector declared.
“Trust us!” Antonio prayed that this little off-the-books excursion organized by Hector’s hustler of a cousin wasn’t going to end up costing him more money or be a colossal waste of time.
As the engine of the car started with a bit of hesitation, Jackie gave him a very pointed look.
Antonio swallowed. This could end in disaster before it even had a chance to start.
After twenty minutes on main roads, smaller side roads, and finally, a cobblestone path, the car came to an abrupt stop.
“Here!” declared Hector brightly.
Antonio looked out the window. It looked as if they were in a very local neighborhood. He heard dogs barking and loud music playing. Antonio sucked his teeth. He knew a hood when he saw one. And Hector had definitely taken them to the hood of Playa del Carmen.
“Yo,” Antonio said. “I thought I told you to take me to the best place for—”
“It is!” Hector interrupted, arms raised. “Please, see for yourself.”
Jackie held on to Antonio’s arm, clearly a little afraid.
Antonio shrugged. “I mean, if we gotta squabble, then at least I know you’re cold with a bat.”
Jackie glared at him as if she wanted to land a right uppercut to his jaw.
Hector quickly exited the car. He opened Jackie’s door, then Antonio’s. Antonio hustled over to stand next to Jackie. He stood taller, puffing his chest out. They were in a foreign country in a strange neighborhood. He was in protector mode.
“This way,” Hector motioned. The trio turned down one more side street, and it was as if they had entered a whole new world.
Gone was the pretentiousness and sterility of the resort, but this was no sketchy alleyway either.
Humble homes and business lined the streets.
Children were running and playing. Colorful lights were strung up all around.
Apparently, this spot was the heart of this neighborhood.
A place where the community gathered to enjoy themselves.
From the laughter and joy in the air, Antonio could feel the love.
Then he felt Jackie reach out, taking his hand.
He looked down, intertwining his fingers with hers.
Maybe she felt the love too. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The restaurant in the middle of the block was bustling.
Couples and families dined outside under a covered veranda, which read in faded letters Cecelia’s Cocina.
A mariachi band played, and people danced on a little makeshift dance floor.
As they made their way closer, an older woman with gray hair in two long braids approached.
She wiped her hands on her floral-printed apron and outstretched her arms.
“Hector!” she said with a wide smile.
“Cecelia!” Hector said.
They embraced, and Cecelia heartily patted him on the back. Her Spanish was so rapid that Antonio couldn’t even attempt to translate. Cecelia grinned at Antonio and Jackie.
“Let me guess, Hector,” Antonio said. “Is this another cousin?”
Hector shook his head. “Prima? No!” He paused. “She’s my sister.”
“Ah, of course,” laughed Antonio. Clearly, Lupe’s entire family was in on the tourism side hustle.
“So, are these my honored guests for the evening?” Cecelia asked.
“Sí,” Hector said, nodding.
Without warning, Cecilia hugged Jackie, giving her two quick kisses on her cheeks and saying, “?Bienvenidos!” Then she stood in front of Antonio and looked up.
“Whoa, you’re a tall one,” Cecilia mused. She looked back at Jackie, pointing her chubby finger, and spoke in rapid Spanish again. This time, Antonio could roughly translate. She’d said something like, This little one handles all of you?
Antonio coughed, and Hector howled with laughter.
Jackie looked at Antonio, confused.
“She just asked how tall I was,” lied Antonio. “It was funny.”
Jackie grunted. He knew she didn’t believe that one damn bit.
Antonio shrugged. “It’s funnier in Spanish.”
Hector put his arm around his sister proudly. “Cecelia makes the tastiest tacos in Playa del Carmen. Trust me. You won’t be disappointed.”
At that moment, the smile on Jackie’s face could have lit the night sky.
Antonio squeezed her hand. “You deserve to have real meat on our last night here, at the very least.”
Jackie sighed, tears glistening in her dark brown eyes. Crying over tacos? That was a first in Antonio’s book.
“You might want to hold off on the tears,” warned Antonio in a low voice. “Hector could be exaggerating. These tacos could be trash!”
“?Mis tacos? ?Basura?” Cecelia grumbled, turning her back to them and heading back to her restaurant. Antonio winced, embarrassed that he’d offended the kind woman.
Hector chuckled. “You’ll see.” They followed him and headed toward the small bar where cold beers and limes were already waiting for them.
“I THINK I’M GOING TO POP,” THE ROBOTIC VOICE FROM JACKIE’S APP declared.
Antonio dabbed his forehead. “I think I’m having the meat sweats.”
Jackie and Antonio had been eating nonstop for nearly forty-five minutes.
As if she had a point to prove, Cecelia kept bringing them dish after dish, the next one just as delicious—if not more than—the previous one.
Tacos al Pastor. Sopes. Chile Rellenos. Tons of beans, rice, pico de gallo, and fresh tortillas.
But the star of the show was something called “Poc Chuc,” a grilled pork dish marinated in sour oranges and spices that had its roots in Mayan indigenous culture.
Jackie declared it the best thing she’d ever eaten, and Antonio agreed.
Cecelia brought over a couple more cold beers. She slammed them on the table with another “hmph.” Apparently, she hadn’t forgiven Antonio for the comment about trash tacos. He had to get back on her good side.
“This was amazing. You’re the best chef, Cecelia,” Antonio said. “?Pero no mas!”
Cecelia finally gave him a wide, gap-toothed grin. “Are you sure?” She pinched his cheek. “Big man like you needs to eat.”
Antonio laughed. “I’m big enough, trust me.”
Cecelia tilted her head toward Jackie and spoke in rapid Spanish. Antonio didn’t catch every word, but he understood the gist: This one can really eat. Guess she’s getting some strength for you later. With that, Cecelia picked up their empty plates and walked off, laughing.
Jackie typed in her phone. “I only know four words in Spanish, but I’m sure you all were bagging on me!”
“Maybe if you knew more Spanish, you’d have landed Paco Jimenez.”
Jackie gasped, then laughed, typing, “That’s rude, Steele.”
“It made you laugh, though.” Antonio winked as he sipped his beer.