As a mariachi, he’d played all around the Bay Area—at CasaZapata, the Latinx center at Stanford; at the opening of theZoot Suitplay; at Cinco de Mayo festivals; at weddings; and at other local events like the Gilroy Garlic Festival.
In that charro suit, no one ever judged Ramón for being the Taco King’s son. He was just Ramón, a Mexican mariachi, and he couldn’t have been happier.
Of course, work made him happy, too. It did. But now, it was nothing but stress. “I don’t have time for music.”
“Well, make time. You’re so good. I could listen to you play all night.”
“What would the point be? I’m not a musician; I’m a businessman.”
She playfully punched his arm. “Does everything have to have a point? Sometimes you just do something because it makes you happy.”
Happiness.Ramón used to think that all his possessions would make him happy—another car, another house, another yacht—but was he truly happy? Did he feel fulfilled in life? Was he proud of himself? Was it easy for him to go to sleep at night?
The answer to all of those questions was no.
Ramón shook his sadness off and focused back on Julieta. “What do you do to make yourself happy? Outside of work.”
“I like to garden, but I guess that’s tied to work. I love hanging out with my dog. He’s a Min Pin. His name is Taco. I found him on the street, and he was in really bad shape, but I nursed him back to health. I like taking care of him.”
“You are so sweet—do you know that? You truly like taking care of others.”
“I do. But I have to admit, it’s been nice having you around. Though I still don’t want my restaurant to become a Taco King, I like not having to worry about payroll and just focusing on the food.”
He smirked. “So, what you are trying to say is you are glad I bought your block?”
She pinched him. “No, silly. Definitely not that.”
Ramón stared into her eyes. “In all seriousness, we make a good team.”
She leaned in closer to him. She smelled like a watermelon margarita. “I don’t know about that. We are too different. I’m not the kind of girl you normally date, am I?”
He touched her thigh. “I don’t really date.” His eyes followed a family of four who were making s’mores over a firepit. They all looked really happy. Could Ramón be happy as a husband? A father? How could he possibly become a good family man when he had never really had a role model? Even his abuelo had been a philanderer.
She pursed her lips. “Right.”
He looked back at Julieta. An overwhelming urge came over him to protect her, take care of her. He could see a future with this glorious woman by his side. “We could be happy together, Julieta. I’m not playing you—I really like you. Give me a chance.”
She smiled. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are. But though you are so confident in your cooking, you keep questioning why I’m into you.” He gazed into her eyes and brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. “But trust me, I am.”
She kissed him. “I am into you, too.”
Ramón downed the rest of his drink and looked out on the sand. Lovers walked hand in hand along the beach; teens danced around a bonfire. All of them were carefree and enjoying the moment.
Being around Julieta rattled him. Through her, he saw a world outside his own privileged yet sheltered existence. It didn’tscarehim—nothing scared Ramón. But it forced him to examine the way he had been living his life.
And unfortunately, he didn’t like what he saw.
Chapter Twenty
Julieta was woozy from the liquor and the lust. The salty ocean air mixed with the scent of s’mores roasting nearby. This night was perfect. And Julieta was, for once in her life, blissfully content.
She stared at the tourists dining at tables around her as she took her last bite of sashimi. What must it be like to travel and have money to stay in a place like this? She was sure Ramón knew. “Have you stayed here before?”
Ramón nodded. “Yeah. I love it here. And I belong to the country club.”
Of course he did. The only time Julieta had ever been to a country club was when she’d worked at one, catering a wedding.
