Page 99 of Along Came Amor
“You can add any fruit nectar or puree to a piña colada,” Estrella said. “It’s just a matter of how much.”
They got to work figuring out the perfect blend of ingredients. In addition to the guava, Estrella added some fresh-squeezed lime juice to the cream of coconut and pineapple juice. And instead of white rum, they used the Casa Donato Siete, a gold rum aged up to seven years. It was strong, but smoother than Ava had expected it to be, carrying a pleasant aroma of vanilla with a hint of smokiness. The slight taste of oak, almond, and warm spices balanced the guava and pineapple nicely, and kept the drink from being overwhelmingly fruity.
For presentation, they tested coconut flakes on the rim and a flower for garnish, but ultimately decided to keep it simple with a dehydrated lime wheel.
Once they agreed on the final recipe, Estrella made them each a fresh drink. They stood together around the table and clinked their glasses together.
“To the happy couple,” Estrella said with a wink.
Ava met Roman’s eyes over the rim of her glass, and the cold, refreshing drink did nothing to cool the heat in her cheeks.
Or elsewhere.
There was nothing untoward in his expression or posture. He seemed completely at ease, with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around the glass tumbler, projecting hisspecific brand of casual confidence. But Ava knew him well enough to see the barely leashed desire in his eyes.
Then, in a nonchalant gesture no one but her would have noticed, he slid his hand out of his pocket just enough to reveal a sliver of white lace.
Ava inhaled sharply, then took a quick sip to cover her response. The shameless man had her panties in his pocket!
“Ava, will you be all right for a few minutes?” he asked, cool as a fucking cucumber. “I want to speak to the staff before I leave.”
“Of course.” She gave a jerky nod. “I wanted to take a closer look at the museum exhibit.”
And get her heart rate under control.
A few people had shown up for a scheduled tour, and Roman went to greet them. Ava pretended to look at framed black and white photos of Casa Donato in the 1950s while she wrestled her thoughts into some semblance of order.
At first, when they’d arrived at the distillery, she’d thought Roman was showing off a bit. Now she understood that this place was a part of Roman in a way the hotels weren’t.
The Dulce Hotel Group was a brand, but through the distillery, he was conserving a piece of history and culture. It spoke to his values not just as a business owner, but as a person.
Still, Roman had put his mark on it. The vibe matched what she’d seen in his hotels. The rustic industrial décor was tasteful and appropriate for the setting. The combination museum and bar area invited visitors to take their time and mull over the historical display while slowly sipping rum... before purchasing a caseload to bring home.
Roman seemed more relaxed here than when they were in the public areas of his hotels, closer to the way he was at home.Despite being the owner, Roman didn’t throw his weight around. Not that she’d ever seen him do that, but he could have. This was a fairly small operation, and it was clear he was deeply knowledgeable about the rum distilling process and the business of artisanal spirits. Even so, he’d let Joaquín lead the tour, and he deferred to Estrella as the expert during their mixology lesson. Moreover, it was obvious to Ava that the people who worked here liked and respected him. He knew everyone’s names and asked about their families, and he was respectful of the original Donato family who’d started the distillery.
The man was almost too good to be true. He’d taken the feedback she’d given and immediately put it into practice. He hadn’t punished her for speaking up for herself—instead he’d cared for her all night, apologized, and done something special for her.
He made her feel... safe, she realized. There was safety in being able to voice her feelings and knowing she wouldn’t be chastised or met with a defensive attitude.
And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy being with him. He was funny, caring, and open. He was willing to hear critique and change. He took responsibility for himself and his actions in a way Hector never—
Shit.The difference finally hit her. Hector had been aboy, whereas Roman was aman.
Hector, as much as Ava had once loved him, had never grown up. He’d been a little boy who wanted a mommy to take care of him, and Ava had eagerly jumped into that role, thanks to the toxic and deeply imbalanced cultural gender roles that had been modeled for her throughout her life. No wonder their relationship had been unsustainable.
Roman didn’t need a mommy. He was a grown-ass adultwho ran multiple businesses, provided for his mother and sister, and willingly opened up about his feelings. Not only that, he could listen to someone else talk about their feelings without pouting.
He was so mature it scared her, because it meant she’d have to rise to his level. She’d given into fear that morning, pulling back after letting him get too close. Instead of storming off or getting defensive, as Hector would have done, Roman had cut through her peevishness with patience and maturity.
Now he looked over from where he chatted with the gift shop attendant, sending Ava a smile so broad and full of life that it nearly broke her heart.
When this ended, it was going tohurt.
Once the tour group left, Roman strolled over to her.
“I’ve called for the car,” he said. “Do you want to go to the beach when we get back? Before dinner?”
“Absolutely,” she said without a second’s hesitation.
