“Well, um . . .”
“How is everything, my darlings?” Gloria appears beside our outdoor table. The restaurateur is in her sixties (probably) and emigrated from Cuba thirty years ago. Her dark hair is streaked with gray, and she wears a pink apron with the name of her shop scrolled across it. She’s built like a grandmother and smells like spice and cinnamon. Her personality is warm, welcoming, and I feel like she’s a second mother to me, even though I don’t actually know her beyond the restaurant.
But you know, a person can dream.
“The food is great,” I tell her.
“Wonderful.” She pats my shoulder. “Enjoy, and let me know if you need anything.”
“We will,” Cristina says brightly, but as soon as Gloria’s gone, she shoots me a pointed look. “So you’re killing the project.”
“Yes.No.” I drop my voice and lean forward, hoping to make her understand. “All Stone Maddox has to do is make some changes and everything will be fine.”
“What kind of changes?”
“Just a few small ones,” I lie.
The last thing I want to admit is that Stone needs to break all the concrete that’s been poured and start over. The more I’ve sat with this, the more I’ve realized that if the resort hadn’t been built directly on ley lines, none of this would probably matter.
But it was, and here we are.
She shrugs. “I know Pane, and he’s pretty reasonable. Like, very reasonable. I don’t know Stone at all, but if what you’re saying is something that has to be done, I’m sure they’ll fix it.”
“Well, he was pretty angry.”
Cristina’s gaze scans the street. “Speak of the devil. Here he comes now.”
“What?” I screech.
I turn and sure enough, a huge white SUV comes to a screeching halt outside city hall.
The door flings open and Stone Maddox steps out, slams the door, and yells, “Dammit!”
Then he opens the door again and pulls something out.
“What’s that?” Cristina asks.
“A lambicorn. According to him, it showed up on the site today.”
“Oh my gosh! It’s so adorable! I want to pet it.”
She rises and I yank her back down. “Don’t. Do you see how mad he is?”
Stone charges into city hall with the lambicorn kicking the air playfully as it follows behind.
I slowly eat my empanada, watching the door with bated breath. A few minutes after he enters, Stone storms back out, his face even redder than before.
Oh no. This can only mean one thing: He tried to get my filing thrown out but it held, and now his construction is for sure delayed.
He’s going to kill me.
Stone’s gaze tracks across the road and finds me.
I duck down and my nose lands squarely in my lunch. My stomach is in knots, and now my nose drips with empanada juice.
“Did he see me?” I squeak.
“Yep.”
