3|Hard Work

My eyes got a fill of his good looks before I replied. “You do look familiar.”

Staring at him up close, I rummage around my brain for possible places or occasions where I must’ve seen him before. Brío is the only place where I’d place him and his friend, at least from the way they dress up.

His name was Roman Castillo, and nope, we haven’t met at Brío. I’ve seen him in magazines and newspapers. He’s making a name in the real estate industry and as the heir to La Vista, which also explains why he was sitting as a judge in the competition. That doesn’t explain why he said I look familiar. From how confident he speaks, I can tell that he’s one of those guys who threw that line to any woman they see.

He and Nicolás, his sage green-eyed friend with tousled dark hair, invited us to stroll around the plaza for the fair. I was supposed to head home straight after the event to help mom prepare for the bakeshop tomorrow, but she said I should have fun. I’m trying.

Tina and Nicolás walked ahead of us, engrossed in deep conversation, halting in front of a stall with colorful sombreros. I learned Tina is friends with them. Both guys studied abroad and haven’t returned to Las Mencía for the last five years.

I held churros in my hand while the other kept brushing against Roman’s as people squeezed through us to their destination. At one point, I tumbled on him when a group of teenagers ran past us. He caught me, and I felt a stronger wave of electricity as he steadied me. His hands, warm and big, felt so good against my skin.

How can I have fun like this?

“Sorry,” I mumbled, unsure of how to start a conversation with him. We’ve been walking in silence, looking like chaperones for Tina and Nicolás.

“I didn’t peg you for a shy one,” he said in fluent English, yet with that sexy Spanish accent. I don’t understand my thoughts. It’s like I lost the ability to think straight.

Pushing myself away from his hold, I lowered my gaze on the ground while heat flowered from the center of my body. I don’t know why he said that. Lifting my gaze to stare into his eyes, we faced one another, eyes locked with pure, unadulterated intensity. The world moves forward while we’re stuck in our own bubble in the middle of the street.

He chuckled, the sound mingling with the mariachi’s beautiful music at the end of the cobblestone path.

My eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you making fun of me?” I murmured, more like snarled, which made his lips pull into a sexy smirk.

Damn that smile.

I think my brain turned to goo.

God. Why was I feeling like this?

He tipped his head to the side, still smirking, “you were different earlier on the stage, muñeca.”

What is that Spanish word? What if he was calling me something bad? Or dirty?

“W-what does that mean?” my grip on the wrap of churros tightened.

“Muñeca?” he asked, and I nodded. He stepped forward. I stepped back, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, invading my personal space.

My heart did a strange leap at our closeness. He was even larger up close, much more alluring. There was no flaw in his face. Even those freckles on the tip of his nose seemed to add to his charm. The soft waterfall of dark locks that framed his face fell in waves, grazing my cheeks when he leaned forward.

Instinctively, I leaned my head back, but he pulled me closer. A gasp slipped past my lips when I came in contact with a wall of rigid muscles.

“Go out with me, and I’ll tell you,” he mumbled. His voice, warm and velvety, I want to hear it again.

“I-I have work tomorrow.” Wrong answer. I should’ve rejected him and told him I’m not into dating, nor would it be a priority of mine, but there was a silly side of me that wanted to see him again.

“What time should I pick you up?” he reached for the strand of my hair with his free hand, while the one around me gripped my hips deliciously, making my eyes flutter shut.

I shook my head, swallowing hard under his gaze that could sear through steel.

He tucked out his lower lip in a cute pout, twirling a strand of my hair in his fingers. “You’ve won something else tonight, muñeca.”

Maybe that word isn’t that bad. He utters it like it was an endearment, or at least it sounded like that. “I did?”

He hummed, nodding while his fingers traced my jaw to my chin. “Sí”

The pad of his thumb sailed ever so softly over my lips, turning my knees to jelly. “W-what?”

“Mi corazón.”

Smooth. My cheeks burned in response. A sweet talker with a beautiful face who smelled very nice, like summer on the beach bottled in one. The label: Dangerously sweet.

His thumb, still hovering over my lip, pulled the lower one from my furious teeth clamping on it. “Eres tan hermosa, Viviana. I want to kiss you.” (You’re so beautiful)

My name never sounded so beautiful before. I’m slowly falling for his charm, but not quite. “Oh, you do?” I set my hand over his chest; a strong prickle flowed through my palms. 

Roman nodded in response, smirking, eyes darkening as they settled on my lip and back to my eyes. He leaned closer, our lips almost touching; my heart was doing shitty flips—dummy organ.

“You have to work for that, Señor Castillo,” I smirked at the bewilderment that washed over his face.

Tina’s voice calling my name rang over the buzz of people around us. I dusted Roman’s chest; his arms still winded around my waist. “You can let go now,” I mumbled, keeping my voice from stuttering.

If I hadn’t been as deranged as I was for the last couple of hours, it would be nice to continue this flirting expedition with him. He has the looks, the charm, the height, and that smile. But I’ll pass. Now is not the time to jump into any complicated things like men when I can’t even get a hold of myself.

Roman’s arm loosened around me; he was still giving me that stunned look, but what he said sent chills down my spine.

“You’ll be surprised how hardworking I am, muñeca.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If it were up to me, I’d spend my day working for the bakeshop, but mom won’t allow me to do so. She saw moving here to Spain as an opportunity for me to start anew. She was keen on pushing me to make new friends and live my life the way I did before the accident.

I’m trying. Although obligatory, I swear I am. The ‘making new friends’ part was not that hard to obey; the other thing was.

I didn’t take Roman’s words seriously. How can I, really? Meeting him yesterday left me wondering if everything that happened was just another glitch in my head. The one thousand dollar check waiting to be deposited on my bank account tomorrow says it’s real. Still, I find it hard to believe that he would try to show me how ‘hard working’ he is.

Roman, sporting a plain white tee and dark, fitted jeans and biker boots, stood out among the masses that dropped by our shop every morning. I could barely count the bread I was stuffing inside each bag I served with every customer; knowing that one customer done also meant that he was getting closer to the counter where I was.

Juan still hasn’t come back from delivering the few restaurant orders for the morning. I’m literally sweating from moving around since before the crack of dawn—what a lovely time for him to see how I look in my messy state. Even if I have no intention of impressing him, I still feel self-conscious when he looks utterly edible in the morning.

“Hey,” I smiled, wiping my forehead with the white towel I had on the pocket of my apron. “Buenos días, what can I get you?” I’m mentally patting myself on the back for sounding so cool. Deep inside, I was freaking out.

I controlled the urge to sniff myself if I smelled okay. ‘The hell, Vi?’

“What time will you get off?” He questioned without preamble, eyes focused on the blackboard behind me, containing the drinks available for today and a few specialties.

“I’m busy all day,” I said, nails tapping on the counter, not from impatience but from anxiousness.

Roman tilted his head to the side, regarding me with curious eyes. “Coffee break?”

I shook my head, “working break.”

“Lunch?” I pressed my tongue on the insides of my cheeks, shaking my head. “You should file a complaint against your employer for not giving you a proper break, muñeca.”

I gnawed on my lip, wondering what mom would say if she heard Roman utter those words. Before I could respond, Juan came back with a grimace on his face, rounding the counter, removing his helmet with a huff.

“What’s up?” I asked, moving to serve Roman a latte, realizing that he might not be here to order at all, and the line is piling up.

“Flat tire,” he murmured, stepping inside the employee’s lounge. He came back seconds later in his Sweet Bits apron and took on the second counter. “Good thing it gave up in front of Benny’s house; I asked him to help me with the delivery.”

“I’ll get the truck to the shop tomorrow,” I told him to ease his worry. Juan has been pretty helpful with the shop; he’s even using his own car for the shop’s delivery. “And reimburse your expenses for the tires.”

“Thanks, Vee,” he waved, “but it’s about to happen, anyway.”

I finished making the latte, served it to the waiting Roman. “It’s on me,” I mumbled with a smile. I was hoping for him to sit down somewhere and not take up the entire space on my line of sight so I could continue working.

He studied the white ceramic cup, taking a languid sip without taking his eyes off of me. “I never thought you’d be that eager to go on a date with me.”

My mouth hung open at his words, “w-what?”

He tilted the coffee cup a bit. “It’s cute, although I don’t let my date pay for anything, amor, so let’s make it right, si?”

“I made you that coffee because I want you out of my sight!” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

The annoying man chuckled, “you don’t have to be shy. I knew you couldn’t resist me that long, so let me make it up to you.”

The counter between us didn’t faze him at all or the fact that people were watching us with amusement in their eyes. He reached for my chin, turned my face a little to the side, and planted his lips on my cheeks, using my stunted state to his advantage.

My eyes blinked rapidly; heat bloomed right where his soft lips caressed my skin. All I could do was watch him turn and head towards the corner booth, pinching my arm if this was even real.

Is he for real? And why did I just let him kiss me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Roman finished his coffee, he walked out of the shop, and I felt somewhat torn between disappointment and relief. Anyway, I never thought he’d come here at all, much less stay until I’m free. Besides, I don’t want to go out with him-not really.

Ugh!

Mom walked inside the shop by lunchtime from meeting with Romina Rodríguez, pitching her designs for her daughter’s wedding next month.

“How did it go?” I asked, kissing her on the cheek.

“I got the deal,” she informed me, taking her suit jacket off while tying her loose brown curls up with the hair tie around her wrist.

“Oh, congrats, mom. But I knew you’d nail it.” I might be biased, but mom makes the best cake in the world. Okay, I’m extremely biased.

I poured her a glass of orange juice from the fridge. She took a sip from it, looking at me as if she remembered something. “You got the truck fixed already? How much did it cost?”

I shook my head, “not yet. I’ll call them later to ask for a mechanic.”

“But it’s already out of the garage.” My brows furrowed at her words. “And that mechanic is a hottie.” She wiggled her brows knowingly. Mom knew about Neil, and she kept on urging me to try and get out more often. Try dating again.

“What?” With eyes wide, I scrambled out of the bakeshop only to find our white delivery truck was indeed out of the garage. And the culprit was indeed a hottie.

My hands were clenching on my side as I crossed the street, headed towards the open garage of our home. How the hell did he even get inside the house?

“You,” I planted myself in front of a very sweaty Roman. It was hard to continue my rant out when the white tee he had clings like his second skin. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead while he wiped his greasy hand on the black towel hanging from the pocket of his jeans.

He shifted to face me, the hood of the car still wide open while he stared down at my five-foot-five glory.

“Me,” he mumbled, flashing me that patented smirk. It’s charming, but it’s starting to get on my nerves. It seems like that smile gets him off the hook all the time.

I swallowed hard, urging my eyes to stay focused on his face and not ogle him, but it was hard. I’ve always had a thing for men who have good hands with cars, plus truly hard working men are hot. Shaking that thought aside, I glared at him. “Why are you fixing our truck? And how did you get it out of the garage?”

“I told you I’ll make it up to you. And Juan let me in.”

So I’m in this situation because of that latte? And why did Juan let this stranger inside our home? I need to have a chat with that kid about security. He will never hear the end of it. I grew up with mostly mom and me in the house, and Dad imparted that security should never be taken lightly.

As if reading my thoughts, Roman set his hands over my shoulder. He acts so cool and confident around me, making the gesture of holding me look so natural. He smelled of grease, yet his citrus ocean scent still lingers in the air. “Amor, before you scold the poor kid, I told him I’m helping my girlfriend out.”

“Y-your what?!”