Her jaw slowly closed, and she narrowed her gaze at him. “On the rocks? Only someone who knows nothing about tequila would order it on the rocks. Why waste my best liquor on someone who can’t even tell the difference between a blanco and a reposado?”
He winked. “Easy, babe—blancomeans white.” Uh. He hadn’tmeant to call her babe—he had no right to call her that. Even so, the term of endearment slipped off his tongue naturally.
Alma rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. “I’m not your babe.”He could almost hear the contempt that was probably silently spewing in her mind.
Maybe this was a mistake. Not maybe, definitely. Santi had been right—Jaime shouldn’t have shown up here like this, unannounced. She had no warning, no way to prepare herself for his arrival. He had ambushed her. He was such an asshole.
He gulped. “I’m sorry for surprising you like this. Can we talk?”
Her beautiful, perfectly symmetrical face contorted. “Talk? About what? I have nothing to say to you.”
“Just talk. Catch up. It’s been so long. I know you’re working right now, but maybe later? When you get off?” He would love to get her off, but he kept his mouth shut.
She tossed up her hands. “You’re unbelievable Jaime, you really are. You show up here out of the blue after dumping me three years ago, and now you want to talk? I have nothing to say to you. Nada.”
Jaime clenched his fists. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds shitty. I’m sorry, Alma. I was young.” And stupid.
“So was I, but I would’ve done anything for you. You said you loved me. Remember?”
Her voice rose and Jaime noticed that a few patrons were staring at him. His gut wrenched—he hated making a scene. “I do, actually. For what it’s worth—I meant it.” In the moment. It was only after he said those words that he questioned them. Not whether he loved Alma—but if he even knew what love meant.
“It’s worth nothing.”
Ouch. Her words stung, but he deserved them.
She closed her eyes and placed her hands together in a prayerposition. After a moment, she slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him. “Jaime Luís Montez.”
The way she said his name tortured him—like he was a childbeing scolded by his mother. Though his own mother had never even bothered disciplining her youngest. He was the baby, neglected by her, and raised by nannies. Jaime got away with murder.
“In case you can’t tell, this bar is packed.Mybar is packed. And I have a very important critic coming in tonight. I don’t have time for this drama.”
As if on cue, an older man wearing a shiny black suit walked in the front door. He beelined to the bar, straight to Alma.
But her focus didn’t leave Jaime.
She raised her voice. “And I have no desire to talk to you. None. Not today, not tomorrow, never. So please, just leave.” She pointed her long, manicured nail toward the door. “Now. I’m not asking.”
Jaime winced. He hoped the man in the suit wasn’t the critic, watching this telenovela play out. He needed to exit now before causing more of a scene and damaging her business. He considered pleading with her, but his gut told him he was fighting a losing battle. He didn’t want to make this any worse than it was or disrespect her any further.
But he couldn’t bring himself to leave either.
He rubbed his neck and looked right at her and spoke in a low tone. “I’m sorry I came by your work unannounced. That wasn’t cool of me. And I’m sorry about what happened in college. I was young and not ready for forever.” He pulled his business card out of his pocket. “I’m in town for a month, staying with Santi. I would love it if you would let me take you out to lunch, at least to explain why I was such a complete asshat and ended things so abruptly. But if not, I respect that.” He slid the card over to her on the bar.
She picked it up, glanced at it for a second, and then tossed it in the trash.
Alrighty then.
The man in the suit’s face narrowed into a scowl.
He definitely seemed like a critic. For Alma’s sake, Jaime hoped he was wrong.
Time to bounce.
“Got it. Goodbye, Alma. This bar is amazing. I’m proud of you, and I don’t mean that in a condescending way. Just that you’ve done well for yourself. I’m in awe. Good night.”
And with that, Jaime turned and walked out of the bar. The man in the suit followed a few steps behind him and stomped to his car.
Looked like starting a tequila brand wouldn’t be as easy as Jaime had first thought. Though it may be easier than what he had just done—leave the only girl he’d ever loved behind.
