He paused also. The name Ramón Montez was well known in the Mexican-American community in San Diego. Once women knew who he was, they just saw dollar signs.
“Romeo.” He teased.
The girl laughed.
“Right. Then I’ll be Juliet.”
Cool. She liked to play, too. Maybe she wanted a no-strings-attached affair, also. Otherwise, she surely would’ve pressed him on his real name. “Hola, Juliet. Mucho gusto. Are you here with a date?”
He had already done a ring check, so he didn’t think she was married, but the last thing Ramón needed was some angry boyfriend to come around and ruin his night, or worse, start a fight with him. Ramón could defend himself—hell, he had a black belt in Tae Kwon Do—but he didn’t want any bad press. Best to get that discussion out of the way now.
The rhinestones on her face shone in the moonlight. “No, my mom came with me. I’m actually working tonight. And I have to go. But you have a beautiful voice. Thanks for the song.” She took a step away.
Nope. Ramón wouldn’t give up on her that easily. “Working?” He threw his hands up. “Where?”
She pointed to the plaza. “Obviously here.”
Right. “Got it, Juliet. When do you get off? I’m working tonight, too.” And he was, kind of. He still needed to find his brothers and make some appearances.
She covered her mouth with her hand. “Nine.”
“Well, tell you what. Meet me back here at nine thirty.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Besides, didn’t you readRomeo and Juliet?‘For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.’ ”
Her lips widened into a coquettish smile. “It’s hopeless. We can never work out. We’re star-crossed lovers.”
He laughed and grinned. He liked her sass. He walked to her side and cautiously brushed a lock of hair off her delicate shoulders. “Let’s do a rewrite.”
“Nah, why mess with a classic? And I don’t know anything about you. You could be a serial killer.”
He shrugged. “Fair, my lovely maiden.” He didn’t blame any woman for being worried about her safety. But he was a gentleman, not that she could possibly know that. He took a step closer to her—her sweet cajeta scent filled the air. “But I’m not—far from it. It’s a glorious night. Get to know me. I’d like to spend some more time with you.”
She pursed her lips and tilted her head like she was considering him. “What’s in it for me?”
He smirked. He liked a challenge. These days, he could get laid with a simple swipe on his phone, which was, frankly, boring. Ramón missed the thrill of the chase and, ultimately, the sweet taste of victory. “If you come back, I’ll sing you another song.”
Her eyes met his, but she quickly looked away. “I’d like that, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Have fun tonight, Romeo.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I will,” he laughed. “With you.”
“Good night!‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’ ” She giggled and ran off. She disappeared outside of the garden.
Should he follow her to see where she was going?
No. Definitely not. That would be creepy.
Where did she work? He could tell by her sexy outfit that she wasn’t a waitress at his restaurant in the square, thank God. That would be awkward. And inappropriate. Ramón never mixed workwith pleasure. Sleeping with an employee was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Maybe she was a salesgirl in the candy store or a chandler at the candle shop. But it didn’t matter what she did for a living—all that mattered was that she came back tonight.
Ramón grabbed his guitarrón and walked out of the garden. As he made his way into the crush, he searched for her face. Would he ever see her again? He hoped so.
He took a moment to marvel at the beauty of the celebration. He had been to many Day of the Dead celebrations throughout the United States and in Mexico, but the gathering in Old Town San Diego was by far his favorite. Despite what he’d said to his brothers about the event, it was intimate. It wasn’t Old Town’s fault that tourists who knew nothing about the holiday invaded the celebration. The organizers did their best to keep it authentic. Respectful. Real. Gigantic, elaborately costumed Catrina skeletons lined the street in their own intricately made altars. Some had bright flowers in their hair, some wore pearls, all were magnificent.
The ground vibrated beneath Ramón’s feet from the many dancers tapping their toes. Ramón hadn’t felt this at home with his people since he had been in college. With his makeup and his clothes, his identity could remain a secret until he had to face the press. And now, he had the prospect of a romantic liaison on the horizon.
He was glad Papá had forced him to come—not just to celebrate but also because Ramón had met “Juliet.”
