Alma tried to focus on the present. Maybe she could be more zen and start meditating. Zoila was always obsessed with that new age crap. But Alma had taken some of the messages to heart too. Live in the present. Maybe she could be happier if she lived for today.
It was a glorious spring day in the bay. The sun shone brightly in the sky, and cautious excitement replaced Alma’s nervousness. What would it be like to return to the area where they had fallen in love? Would her feelings toward Jaime soften? Would she be lost in their past and blind to the problems they would most definitely have if they considered a future?
As the grand mountain in the distance came into view, Alma’s heart leapt. Napa was so magical. She had been such a shy, nervous girl when she had moved here to start college. She had never been away from her parents’ house and was a first-generation college student, and it had been so surreal for her to be on her own. Then Alma had met Jaime the very first week in school, at one of thoseLatinostudent get-togethers. She had fallen fast in love with his dimples and his charm.
As Jaime took a familiar exit, there was no doubt. He was taking her to their favorite café in downtown Sonoma.
The landscape was decorated with glorious vineyards and rolling hills. A beautiful place for some other couple to rekindle a romance—but not them. Alma couldn’t be swayed by looks, whether they belonged to the gorgeous wine country or the man by her side.
Jaime parked and Alma lifted Tequila out of the car. Her dog peed on a nearby bush and Alma poured some water into her portable bowl, which the pug lapped up eagerly.
Alma smiled as she glanced across the road at the rustic café filled with plants. It was the same one they used to frequent. “Wow, we first came here seven summers ago. Remember?”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ll never forget. You were wearing that yellow sundress.” He lowered his voice. “With that matching lace bra and thong. I couldn’t wait to take you home, eat your pussy, and fuck you.”
Whoa. Alma’s cheeks heated. He’d been overly polite since they had reunited, but hearing him remembering her in such a sexual manner rattled her. But since that kiss, it was clear that he wanted her again, at least sexually.
And she had to admit—she wanted him too.
Jaime checked in with the hostess, and she led them to an outdoor table. The café was decorated with rustic charm. There was a trellis dripping with vines and thick-cut wooden tables. Jaimepulled out her seat. He was really coming in strong with his gentleman act, well, minus his dirty talk.
The waitress brought a doggy menu for Tequila and read the specials. Jaime ordered a gourmet hamburger with all the fixings and Alma chose the smoked trout and ordered a bowl of steak and rice for Tequila.
Jaime perused the wine list, but Alma took it from him.
“Allow me.” But she didn’t order any wine—she ordered a blood orange margarita with mezcal and a Tajín rim and a blackberry margarita with tequila and a black salt garnish.
Jaime licked his lower lip. “Excited to taste the drinks you ordered.”
“I love mezcal. It’s smoky.”
“Until you gave me that tasting, I didn’t really take the time to learn about it. I would just drink it to get drunk.”
“Oh, it’s so good. And there are so many new opportunities for it. Tequila is only from the blue agave plant and mezcal can be from any type of agave plant. Also, the cooking process is different.”
Jaime’s eyes lit up. “How so?”
Alma’s heart beat rapidly. The years between them seemed to dissolve. “Well, the blue agave piña is steamed in a brick oven. Most tequilas will have somewhat of a consistent taste because they are made in similar ways, though the good brands are cleaner. With mezcals, the agave plant is roasted by the mezcalero or in some places the mezcalera. It’s put into the ground to cook, which is why it tastes so smoky. There are so many amazing artisan batches and mezcaleros.”
“How did you get into this? Why did you leave wine?”
“I don’t know. With wine, I loved it, but I didn’t feel called to it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m Mexican or not, but I felt a deepconnection to the people who made these spirits.” She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the warm sunshine. “I went to Mexico after webroke up, and we met someone whose family made tequila. Once I saw the process and met the makers, that was just it for me.”
Jaime relaxed into his chair. The waitress brought the drinks and placed a drink that reminded Alma of the Sonoma sunset in front of him.
He sipped on the blood orange margarita.
Alma studied his expression. “What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful. Like a barbecue aftertaste.”
“Well, that’s one way to put it. Try mine.”
He popped a blackberry into his mouth and then sipped the drink. “This is closer to what I’m used to. Very clean.”
“Yeah. That one is more standard. We can do a tasting of the different mezcals back at the bar.” She stopped. What had she just said?
He winked. “So, I get another date?”
