She reached her bright yet tiny home on the corner and let herself in. Her dog, Taco, greeted her at the door and wagged his nubby tail.He was a black and brown Min Pin that Julieta had found near a dumpster six months ago. He’d had mange and a cloudy eye. Mamá had at first refused to let her keep him, but Julieta had stood up to her and nursed him back to health.
Julieta wished she could move out someday and live in her own place. She’d had an apartment a few blocks away for a while, but once Papá passed away, she felt guilty that Mamá was alone and had moved back home like the dutiful daughter she was. Especially with Mamá’s health issues, Julieta wanted to be close to her.
And now, with the impending closure of Las Pescas, even if she found another job, Mamá likely would not be able to. She’d be stuck—and Julieta couldn’t leave her homeless.
Unless she could convince Ramón to keep it open.
She gave Taco his dinner of chicken, rice, and carrots, which he scarfed down. Then she took him out back and threw the ball with him for a bit. Her yard was small but enchanting. She had one raised garden bed where she grew chiles that she couldn’t find in the local markets. There were some pots containing roses, dahlias, and agave. In the center was Julieta’s favorite part of the house—a small Mexican-style fountain. Bees buzzed and the floral-scented air calmed her nerves. The only benefit that could possibly come out of losing the restaurant was the ability to spend more time sitting out here reading books while Taco sunbathed.
Julieta took a quick shower and then combed out her long black hair. The weather was surprisingly humid for San Diego. Her hair would probably look just like it did in the kitchen in about five minutes’ time. Julieta slathered on some product, found Mamá’s blow-dryer, blasted her hair, and then set it in rollers.
What should she even wear? Julieta’s daily wardrobe consisted of baggy pants and clunky clogs—great for being a chef but definitely not what Mamá would consider looking nice.
She perused the back of the closet and found one outfit that she had worn to her prima’s quinceañera. The bright red dress cut off at her thigh. It seemed a bit too sexy for the occasion, but since she didn’t have any other options, it won.
Time to tackle the makeup. Moisturizer, primer, foundation, eye shadow, bronzer, blush, lip liner, lipstick, gloss, mascara. She even filled in her brows and curled her eyelashes. Mamá would be so proud.
She glanced in the mirror. Julieta looked pretty, beautiful, even—two words she had never used to describe herself. Ever.
Before heading back to the restaurant, Julieta took a moment to herself.
She sat on the sofa and lifted up Taco, who burrowed on her lap.
She had to ground herself before she saw Ramón. Just being in the same room as he was made her heart race.
Was it possible to keep it professional with him? Was she doing all this for nothing?
Possibly. Probably.
But Julieta had run out of options. She had to try.
Chapter Eleven
Ramón kept checking his watch. He didn’t want to be too early or late. Why was he so nervous? He felt like he was on a first date, and he rarely dated.
But this wasn’t a date. She had made that abundantly clear. Even so, Ramón wore his best suit, dabbed on his most expensive cologne, and shaved with a brand-new razor. He drove by a local flower stand and paused—should he get her flowers? He didn’t want to come on too strong, but a beautiful bouquet of peonies caught his eye, and he purchased them anyway.
He pulled up in front of the restaurant, locked his car, and opened the front door.
People milled around, all generations, all cultures. Ramón had mistakenly assumed that she would have shut down the restaurant for him. How arrogant was he? Of course, she wouldn’t. Her restaurant was a business; he doubted that she wanted to disappoint the customers.
He stood in the arch of the doorway. A different waitress than the one he had met earlier greeted him.
“Table for one?”
“No. I’m here to see Julieta.”
Ramón stood near the entrance and studied the goings-on in the restaurant. There were around twenty or so tables of different sizes and configurations. Kids colored on paper menus, sweethearts stole kisses between sips of cocktails, families laughed at one another’s stories. A chill ran through Ramón as he pictured this place transformed into a fast-food joint.
The kitchen door opened, and Julieta appeared.
Ramón gasped at the sight of her. The tight red dress she wore hugged her curves, worshipped them as if her body was a church.I feel a religious experience coming on.
When she approached him, he handed her the flowers. “You look gorgeous. These are for you.”
She blushed. “Thank you, Ramón. You shouldn’t have.” She glared at him. “Really. Your table is in back. Follow me.”
Didn’t have to ask Ramón twice. She turned around, and he stared at her perfect ass as she led him to a private room in the back. The table was decorated with marigolds and candles.
