Ramón leaned over the table and gazed into her eyes. Her lips parted, and he slowly kissed her, inhaling her scent, lost in her mouth.
She pulled away almost as soon as the kiss began.
“Ramón, I like you. I do. But I’m so overwhelmed with losing the restaurant and trying to figure out how I will deal with the community backlash.” She paused, and tugged on her hair. “Are you looking for just a hookup? Because that is not what I want.”
“What do you want?” He was her boss—he had to make sure that she didn’t feel pressured into going out with him.
She rubbed his arm. “I want to date you.”
Guau. The wind knocked out of him. Julieta had no problem expressing her feelings and being honest, which Ramón found surprisingly sexy. He hated playing the guessing game. He was direct and to the point.
“I’d like to date you, too. After the Day of the Dead event, I never thought I’d see you again. But here we are. Let’s see where this goes.”
Julieta’s mouth broadened into a wide smile.
He leaned over, cupped her chin, and kissed her.
He was catching feelings. Real feelings.
And as excited as he was to get to know her outside of work, one thing still worried him. The fact that his father had stolen her mother’s taco recipe. Their lawyers were investigating their liability, so Ramón had to stay tight-lipped about the situation.
But he wouldn’t stress about it now. He would focus on getting to know Julieta. Then he would continue the talks with his legal counsel. He had made a promise to himself that Linda would be compensated, but until the details were finalized, he didn’t want to make any false assurances. And if Papá refused to take care of it, Ramón would quit like he’d threatened.
The waitress brought their drinks.
Julieta brought her glass up to Ramón’s. “Salud.”
“Salud.” Ramón took a drink.
“So, I hate to bring this up, but everyone has been asking me. What are your plans for the rest of the block? Are you going to raise everyone’s rent?”
Rent. Ramón would have to increase the rent on Logan Avenue to make the venture profitable. Once the owners started panicking, the trouble would start for Julieta and him.
“We haven’t decided yet.” Ramón popped one of the olives from his drink into his mouth. He had to figure out what he wanted to do. Was he so infatuated with this woman that he now wanted to make unwise business decisions? Never in his life had he let his heart rule his head, or in this case, his dick rule his brain.
No. No. It wasn’t that at all. Sure, Julieta was a part of this decision, but it was more than that. He had seen the community in Barrio Logan. He’d watched the people who owned the businesses. He wasn’t ready to come in and tear the seam of their lives apart.
Yet.
He had to make a plan and make Papá see his point of view.
But for now, he wanted to focus on Julieta and not his mounting ethical issues with the development in Barrio Logan.
“Can I ask a favor? Could we not talk about business? Babe, you need to learn how to take a night off.”
“That’s fair. Okay. I’ll try to be present. Focus on us.”
Music played in the background. Julieta swayed to the beat. “So, when am I going to hear some more of your music? You are really great.”
Ramón winked. “Next year on Day of the Dead.”
Julieta giggled. “Ha, funny. But no, seriously. You are talented. We have an opening down at the restaurant for a resident guitarist. You should come play. I can’t pay you, but you can put out a tip jar.”
Now it was Ramón’s turn to laugh. Back when he’d founded his first band in La Jolla with his friends in high school, they’d started playing covers: Metallica, Guns N’ Roses, and Mötley Crüe. Then, they’d moved to harder stuff like Slayer, Megadeth, and Death Angel. Ramón had grown his hair long, much to the dismay of his mother. He’d tried his hand at songwriting. His group, the Taco Kings, started to get a lot of attention. Ramón wrote songs in Spanish, English, and Spanglish.
They had a steady following and booked some local gigs, and even released a couple of viral YouTube videos, which he prayed that Julieta wouldn’t find.
But then Ramón was accepted into Stanford, and he’d focused on his studies. He’d briefly formed a rock group there but then was roped into trying mariachi music. Before college, he’d never really liked that style of songs, but at Stanford he was seduced by their beauty. He loved the sounds of the different instruments, and once he’d placed his hands on a beautiful guitarrón, there was no going back.
