He cupped her face in his hands and gave her a gentle kiss good night.
“I’ll see you at Cinco fest.”
Yes, that was a week away. Would he see her before then? His family was in town, and she would be busy. It was probably best if he kept his distance from her.
Could Jaime handle another few weeks in Marin, knowing that Alma was so close? And then what would happen next between them? Would he honestly consider moving here to be with her?
No. No. His dad and mom married young and look how they turned out.
“Yup. Look, I’ll be busy this week with my family, but I’ll see you then.”
“Good night, Jaime.” She shut the door.
Jaime walked back down toward the bar on the way to his hotel.
When he finally arrived in his room, he collapsed into the lounge chair and placed his head between his hands. He was so overwhelmed after being with her again. He couldn’t imagine never seeing her after the next few weeks. Was he making the biggest mistake of his life by planning on going back home?
Honestly, nothing was keeping him in San Diego.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he still wasn’t ready for a relationship withAlma.
Chapter Eighteen
Alma woke the next morning with nausea filling her stomach. Though the sex had been incredible, Jaime couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough. She’d thought for sure that he would accept the offer to spend the night at her place.
But no. Despite the intimate moments they’d experienced, he’d bounced the second he could, even though he couldn’t resist nagging her about walking alone back to her place.
Alma brushed her teeth and took a long hot shower. The steam filled the bathroom—great for her skin, not so wonderful for her hair. But she didn’t care about frizz in her locks when it was her life that was frazzled. She had to be honest with herself. She had not slept with Jaime hoping to get back together with him. She just wanted to have sex with someone who knew her body and could make her feel good. That was it, right? It was simple. Sure, she could please herself or, over the years, she could’ve had a one-nightstand, but she wanted to sleep with someone with whom she felt comfortable and could truly enjoy herself.
So, she had used Jaime.
Whatever she had to tell herself.
And it wasn’t like the fling would last long. He would be returning to San Diego soon, and she would finally get the break that she needed and go to Mexico with Zoila. Since she and Jaime clearly didn’t have a future together, maybe their encounter would enable her to finally break free from the chokehold he had her in.
Picturing herself sunbathing in Mexico, lounging by the pool and sipping a spicy margarita that she didn’t have to make, did the trick. She exhaled—her daydreams calming her down.
Her doorbell rang.
Was it Jaime? Apologizing? Maybe bringing her some flowers? He was staying only a couple of blocks away at the Tiburon Lodge.
She wrapped herself in her robe and went to the door and peered through the hole.
It was not Jaime. It was Zoila, holding two coffees and a pastry bag from Caffé Acri.
They hadn’t planned to meet. That was bizarre. Zoila never showed up unannounced.
Alma’s heart sank.
It could only mean one thing—those were guilt pastries.
She opened the door and let her friend in.
Zoila handed Alma a coffee cup. “Hi! Sorry to bombard you. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would stop by.”
Alma laughed. “The neighborhood? No, you weren’t. You wouldn’t have driven here and gone through all the trouble to find parking. What’s up? Spill.”
Zoila flopped down on the sofa. “Girl, please don’t kill me, but I can’t go to Mexico with you.”
