“This is from Sabor a Sol, a restaurant I have opening in a few weeks.”
“Really?” After she takes a bite, she passes the fork back to me. “Well, if this food is anything to go on, your restaurant will be a huge success. Has it been keeping you busy?”
“Yes… and more.” I swear a tension headache builds just talking about it, which is unusual considering Colectiva Isla Blanca is my pride and joy.
She tips her head and gives me a pitying frown. “Sothat’swhy you look tired.”
I lift my brows like I’ve taken offense, but she continues in a playful tone. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re handsome, of course.” She rolls her eyes mockingly. “You’realwayshandsome, but tonight not even those dimples can save you…”
Relieved actually that the jig is up, I let my head fall back and rest against the seat. I guess there’s no point pretending I’m not exhausted.
“Long day,” I admit, bringing my hand up to rub between my brows, relieving the beginnings of that headache.
Isabel closes the to-go container as she bends to stash it in the paper bag. “Here, I won’t keep you.”
When she looks up again, my eyes catch hers and our gazes lock. Tension builds in my chest, and for once I don’t have the energy to fight it. “I’m the one keeping you, Isabel. Should I lock the doors to prove it?”
Her lips part.
My joke didn’t sound even remotelyjokey. I suddenly feel like I’m failing at this, failing at staying away from this girl. What do I want with her? Why does it feel too scary to admit?
She studies me with open curiosity. “Cristiano?”
My name in her voice sounds so sweet, so hopeful. If we stay in this car like this for one more second, I’ll kiss her. I won’t care about the consequences so long as her mouth is on mine. Clearly I need a distraction, which is fortunate because I actually have something I need from her. “I want to know everything that’s on the bucket list.”
There’s a long pause and then a burst of laughter. “You’re relentless, you know that? I don’t have it with me.”
I knew she’d resist, but I’m done waiting. I nod toward her apartment.
“Go get it and bring it back out.”
She looks semi-amazed by my insistence. “Don’t you want to go to sleep? Surely—”
I’m growing impatient. “I want you to go get it, Isabel.”
With a huff, she reaches for her door handle.
I grab the food bag. “Here.”
She looks back in question. “All of it?”
“Take it.”
I swear I hear her mumble about my bossiness, but she accepts the bag and shuts the door before heading inside. I turn in my seat and close my eyes as the weight of my day, the fatigue of my endless work cycle, crash over me. I almost fall asleep before she returns.
I jolt back to full consciousness when Isabel opens the car door. A journal lands with aclapagainst my thigh. “Here.”
I look down to see that it’s open to a page filled with a long list. Notes and annotations fill the border. “Did you write this?”
“Winnie did,” she explains as she climbs back in. “That’s her handwriting.”
I read the first few items, and when I land on number five, I stifle a chuckle. “Starting off with a bang, I see…”
She looks out the window and stays quiet, crossing her arms in the passenger seat.
Winnie’s Ibiza Bucket List
Swim at Bora Bora Beach
