Seven thirty p.m.
In two more hours, Juliet would be his.
Chapter Four
Julieta inhaled the rose that the sexy man had given her. The floral scent made her woozy.
Or maybe her giddy state was because she was high on his testosterone.
She took a deep breath and grounded herself back in reality.
That song in the garden had probably been planned. She was just the lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it—girl who had walked into his trap.
He’d said his name was Romeo. What a joke. Clearly, he was a player. She’d been completely enamored when he sang and strummed the guitarrón for her, but once he gave her a fake name, her walls went up.
Or maybe he was just being playful. But playful was not what Julieta wanted. She wanted honest. Hardworking. Humble. A man who didn’t play games.
And she hadn’t lied exactly—Julietwasher name. Well, a version of it, but the J sounded like an H.
That romantic prelude had been a fun distraction, but it was time to get back to work. She raced to the stand and found Mamá frying tortillas with a scowl on her face.
“Where did you go? You left fifteen minutes ago!”
“Lo siento. I just needed a moment to myself.” She wasn’t actually sorry, but the apology rolled off her tongue anyway.
Should she tell Mamá about the handsome stranger?
No. She would have Julieta married off by the end of the holiday. Especially if she told her that Romeo had sung “Abrázame.” The power of a classic Spanish ballad wasn’t lost on Mamá. And who could really blame her?
“Ay, Julieta.” Mamá threw her arms around Julieta, pulling her into a hug. “I know you are worried about our restaurant, but don’t give up on me now. Let’s focus on the food.”
Food. Yes. Tacos. Fish tacos. To showcase why they made the best tacos in San Diego. That was why they were here. Not to fall for gorgeous masquerading mariachis.
Julieta prepared her sauce. She ground the spices together and diced the chiles, but her mind wandered back to Romeo.
He’d said he attended Stanford, but he also mentioned that he was working at this event. What did he do? Maybe he owned the new bar up the street. Maybe he was an actual mariachi at one of the restaurants. Wherever he worked, he probably had no intention of meeting with her later and would instead serenade the next pretty young thing he met, and there were plenty of candidates milling around tonight. Men these days had no attention spans. Why get to know someone when you could just swipe to meet the next woman on the never-ending assembly line of love?
The crowd began to gather at the stand, and Julieta cooked as fast as she could. Onions were chopped, limes were squeezed, tortillas were fried. At least this event was always a blast—the attendees weremostly dressed up in elaborate costumes, and some of the makeup applications deserved Emmys. Kids painted sugar skulls on rocks; Latin musicians played onstage as lovers danced. It was magical. Julieta was blessed to be part of the celebration.
But it would be nice to come here at least once in her life and not have to cook at the event.
Maybe next year.
For as long as she could remember, her parents had brought her along to help, which she’d loved. But now that she could lose everything that she’d worked so hard for, something had to change. Maybe she needed to strengthen the other areas of her life. Laugh more. Play more. Love more.
Take more risks.
She could start tonight with that handsome stranger... but was he the type of challenge she was after? Normally, the only gambles she took were with her cooking.
That way she would never get hurt. Or even worse, lose her focus on her business by being distracted by a man.
Ah, but he was so hot. Wasn’t he worth the distraction?
An hour into the pop-up, Julieta glanced up from her frying pan. She looked toward the main street. Her gut wrenched.
Hundreds of people carried candles to the graveyard to honor their dearly departed loved ones. Julieta should’ve been in that procession, honoring Papá, instead of cooking for tourists.
Mamá dabbed her face with a paper towel as the crowd walked by.
