They returned to their room, and they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Jaime pulled off her white dress and devoured her pussy. Alma came quickly and climbed on top of him. She rode him and stared deep into his eyes. No words were spoken but they weren’t needed. They came together, and Jaime was in complete bliss.
As they lay in bed that night, the memories of the day flickered through his mind like a cherished movie. Jalisco had embraced him, its heart beating in harmony with his own. And as sleep claimed him, he knew that this journey would stay etched in his soul forever, a vivid reminder of the magic that exists when one dares to explore theunknown.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alma woke up refreshed and excited about the day. She couldn’t wait to celebrate her first Fiesta de San Isidro, Patron Saint of Farmers and Laborers.
She rolled over and watched Jaime sleep. He was naked. She wanted to climb on top of him for another round but held off. Last night, their sex had been so emotionally intense.
But she was struggling. She loved him. This entire vacation was so natural and intense. He had been great, perfect even. So why was she doubting this could work? Could she ever trust him again?
She snuck out of bed, took a shower, and got dressed. Jaime did as well, and they were off to the town for another adventure.
The vibrant colors of the Fiesta de San Isidro adorned the streets of Jalisco, turning the town into a mural of life and celebration. Papel picado fluttered in the breeze, the scent of tamales and conchas filled the air, and the rhythmic beat of mariachi music echoed through the cobblestone streets. It was a day where thecommunity came together to celebrate Isidore the Laborer, the patron saint of farmers, a day where hearts were light and spirits high.
And Alma was so grateful for farmers who toiled in the agavefields like Gabriela did. Slicing those piñas was hard work. Her wrists ached from assisting yesterday.
But she had kind of loved the work. Wouldn’t it be cool to spend more than just a day at the farm and harvest her own agave? It was truly an art form, and spending the time cultivating the crops made her love her spirit, and her job, even more. Maybe she could make a yearly pilgrimage here to work on a farm…
But being in Gabriela’s distillery had inspired another idea in Alma.
What if…she started a brand of tequila? She could buy directly from the barrel from Gabriela.
Could she imagine it? Curating the mixture, deciding what flavors to highlight, picking the recipes to use to showcase her spirit. It would be like Christmas every day! She’d even have a blast picking out the bottles to sell the liquor in. Though Alma knew better than to judge a book by its cover or a tequila by its bottle, sometimes she couldn’t help herself. Some of the containers were so, so beautiful, as was the artwork for the labels. She loved the hand-painted ones from Mexico and the ones that resembled skulls.
What kind of tequila would she like to sell? At first, she thought a classic añejo, though recently she had been on a cristalino kick. She loved that cristalino looked like a blanco but actually was an añejo. It was fun to introduce some patrons who normally wouldn’t try stronger tequilas to new types, especially for the women who were hesitant to try anything strong. Turning them on to a whole new world of taste was exhilarating.
Ahh, it was very exciting, but the truth was that having a tequila line wasn’t cheap. She was successful with her business but didn’t have that kind of capital.
But Jaime did.
And he seemed to really love tequila. He didn’t know much about tequila when he first reappeared into her life, but Alma could tell he’d really begun to appreciate it.
What if she asked him? It could give him an excuse to move up to Marin.
No. No. That was a supremely bad idea. The worst. They shouldn’t mix business with pleasure until they were fully committed to each other.
She looked over at Jaime, his eyes taking in the town. He was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen. He truly looked like a movie star. Women stopped and stared at him. It was no wonder that he had been so successful as an influencer.
Her relationship with Jaime would end soon as he left to go back to San Diego.
She moved through the crowd with Jaime by her side and focused again on the saints. Of all the saints, San Isidro was her favorite.
Jaime took a bite out of a concha he grabbed from a stand.
“This is so good. Want a taste?”
She nodded and he moved the flaky pastry to her mouth. She took a bite—it was so fluffy and decadent and sweet. “Oh, that is great. We need a good panadería in Marin. We have a few but not like this.”
“There are a bunch in San Diego. One next to Julieta’s restaurant is incredible.”
Alma didn’t respond to that comment. Of course there weregreat panaderías in San Diego. Why wouldn’t there be good bakeries in a border town?
Jaime had explained that Enrique’s girlfriend, Carolina, had moved from Santa Maria to San Diego. In all fairness to her, that hadn’t been so straightforward. She was from a super traditional family and supposedly they freaked out when she was stranded in a storm with Enrique and couldn’t go home for the night, so she gave them the farm she’d purchased and moved and started another. She had even broken up with Enrique before she moved down there.
Alma didn’t want the thought of San Diego’s sunshine, surf, and sand to be an option. She was a Northern California girl—fog and ferries were more her scene.
Jaime finished his concha. “So, who was this saint guy anyway?”
