Page 4 of Out of Office

The career that had given me the seed to rebuild my parents’ dying little hostel and our humble town. The career that had taken me away from my parents in the last years of their lives, with demands that now seemed insignificant.

Many would think me a fool for leaving a career just at the cusp of success. Many would think me irrational for putting the money I earned into my family’s guesthouse, which barely saw any guests, and rarely made any profit.

But I needed my family, friends, food, and a bed to rest my head at night. To be there to lend my hands and strength to my sister, brother-in-law, and their kids, to be there for my cousins and community as we fought to exist every day.

All those boxes were ticked.

Only one tick was missing, but I was a patient man. First, I needed to ensure I was whole before giving my heart to anyone.

When I had ambitions of my own, I’d lost myself, lost my sense of place and community. My reacquaintance with the person I’d become after losing my parents had been a slow, perfidious road, but I began to like who I saw in the mirror once more.

Shaking away thoughts of the past, I hopped out of the Escalade, gesturing to the approaching valet attendant.

“Yo! I’m just picking up a guest. Can I leave it here?”

“Dale, manito!” The driver dapped me up, smoothly taking the five I slid into his palm.

The brand-new hotel smelled of jasmine. The inside was equally stunning, and I loved what the interior designer had done with the beautiful murals depicting the fauna and flora of the country in patterns of blue, green, and white.

Resting along one of the entrance walls, I settled to wait. There hadn’t been a day that I’d picked up Genevieve Raymond from work and she’d been on time. In the morning, she’d been ready: usually outside the condo her company had arranged for her, waiting with her cell phone in hand, already working. But when the time to leave for the night arrived, it was as if she couldn’t detach herself from the building.

I didn’t envy her the position she was in. She’d explained the amount of work it took to open this building, to make it habitable, to train the team, to set the new procedures. Ms. Raymond took her work seriously and I profoundly admired that, but she also thought all of it fell on her. My familiarity with that belief ran deep, and I wish I could help her get rid of it.

I remembered similar occasions in my past, when leaving for the night was a struggle, and I ran my arm over my chest, glad for the sense of calmness that accompanied me.

That calmness dissipated the moment she descended the stairs.

Damn, she was stunning.

My stomach took a swan dive, and my heart raced faster than Julín in his Sunday night drag races. She wore her relaxed hair in a high ponytail, the silky strands bouncing side to side as she descended the steps. Her balance seemed off today. Usually, she emanated elegance and powerful strides, but she clutched the railing, gingerly taking each step as if afraid of falling. Her face, usually impassive, boasted a self-satisfied grin, and my breath hitched at the sight.

Damn, I loved seeing her this playful. But was Ms. Raymond tipsy?

She’d gone from a dreamy smile to a preoccupied scowl when her gaze met mine. It took everything out of me not to smirk.

Her lush lips parted, and the tip of her tongue touched her top lip adorned in a burgundy color to match the burgundy strapless cocktail dress she wore. She stole my breath; that tongue of hers long and dexterous. What would it be to taste those sweet lips?

Her dress deserved to be studied by scientists because of the mystery of how it could handle her abundant cleavage. The fabric wrapped perfectly over her thick hips and luscious legs, a slit showing some of her thigh. The slight hint of her belly underneath the silky dress made me ache to feel the combination of soft and compact strength of her. Some men would cower at the type of woman who exuded confidence and had a body to match. Tall, thick curves, with a deep brown complexion that still managed to flush dark when embarrassed, as it did now as I met her heated glance with a challenging stare.

Warning bells flashed, and I remembered I was working. My word and name were all I had. Pulling it together, I tempered my attraction.

“Buenas noches, Ms. Raymond.”

Her eyes fluttered, then she looked back at me with the same polite smile she’d given me every day of the four months she’d been in the country.

“Hola, Adrián, I’ve asked you so many times to call me Genevieve. Tonight is our last night. Can’t you grant me that gift?” She grinned, her stance fluid. The sound of her husky voice and how she pronounced my name produced images of sweaty nights and entangled legs. For tonight, I decided to lean into my attraction just a little, I had nothing to lose and a lasting memory to gain.

“Okay, Genevieve.” Saying her name did odd things to my insides.

Her toothy grin in response confirmed she was tipsy, and if I wasn’t a hundred percent certain, the fact she’d come down with no bag bolstered my assumption.

“Where’s your laptop bag?”

She turned around, searching behind her as if it would appear from thin air.

“Damn, I left it in the office. I don’t really want to go back to get it. I’m tired,” she complained and shifted back and forth on her heels. If she were mine to care for, I’d remove her heels and carry her to the car. But she wasn’t mine.

“I can get it for you and drop it off tomorrow morning.”

---