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“Don’t go through the trouble of making anything. I won’t be here long.”
“Nonsense,” he says with an accent that’s both thick and smooth. Leaning in as if sharing a secret, he wiggles his brows.
Clapping at the man now, he shouts for him to hurry. They bicker back and forth, but, against my protests, I’m presented with a flight of small espresso mugs.
Ernesto describes the taste and aroma of each coffee his buddy pours, and I bide my time, waiting for them to stop bickering over which one would be best with dessert so I can figure out what exactly he has planned with Heather.
Unfortunately for me, Ernesto’s father, Santiago, and my uncle are best friends. And if it weren’t for Santiago, he would have never obtained his land in Augustine to begin with.
As for his son, even years after hooking up with my sister, and then breaking her heart when he got caught fucking the elementary school principal, it takes maximum effort not to outright strangle him.
“Gentlemen.” I raise a hand between them, shutting them up instantly.
Nodding at Ernesto, I sweep my hand toward the seat across from me. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
After waving the other man off, he slowly lowers himself into the chair.
“Some would consider it rude to deny such a gift.” His accent softly accentuates each word.
I glare as he doodles on the table with the tip of his finger, pouting like a child, and I can’t help wondering what it is Heather or Leah find so appealing about him.
“I’m here for information.”
Brows pinching, he pauses the half circle he’d been tracing. “Ha!” He relaxes back with a cocky half-grin. “If it is information pretty boy wants, it is information pretty boy gets.”
Ignoring the nickname, I scoot the coffee closer to the edge of the table. “There’s an American woman here in Augustine. Her name is Heather.” At the mention of her, mischief pulls the corner of his grin higher. “Have you two met?”
“The woman whose hair is that of silken honey, with eyes a man would happily drown in?”
Christ. He’s going to milk this for everything it’s worth. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I’m familiar with the beauty you speak of,” he says, interest tugging the edges of his eyes as he gauges my reaction.
“She said the two of you were going on a date?”
“Ah, yes. She came by late yesterday afternoon.” He spreads his legs, casually hanging his arm over the back of his chair. “The woman can be quite persuasive, can’t she?”
Yesterday afternoon… I knew she was lying, and now I have to know why.
“Cut your shit, Nesto.” My chair creaks when I lean forward. “She’s not your type.”
“And how would you know that?” he scoffs.
“She’s not married, for starters.”
Finally, that arrogant grin stutters. “What matter is this to you?”
I dig in my wallet for the Topican equivalent of one hundred American dollars and slide it across the table. “I don’t want you touching, looking at, or breathing in her direction for the remainder of her stay. Understood?”
Ernesto’s foot taps in time with his bouncing knee beneath the table. He’s too easy to read. Nostrils flaring, as if I’m pissing him off, but he’s too shifty, like he’s got more information and he just can’t bear to hold it in.
I already know it’ll cost me more before he utters another word.
An extra twenty slips his way, and with a twitchy smirk, he says, “Perdón,compadre.Your lady offered me double to show her a good time.”
Now my curiosity is beyond piqued. “Why would Heather pay you to take her on a date?”
With a heavy dose of smugness, he says, “Perhaps she wants a real man to introduce her to the beauty of Augustine.”
