Page 167 of From Rivals to I Do

Her eyebrows raised, and her eyes widened; the strange blue tint in her eyes was chilling his bones. "Oh, really, what do you mean by that?"

"Really," he said, despite the flashes of danger in her eyes. "According to Rafael, as of last night, you are short a cook, and you need somebody immediately. So, unfortunately, you need me about as much as I need you."

She barked a short laugh and crossed her arms, an incredulous smile tickling the corners of her mouth. "I don't think so," she said. "There are a lot of people that need jobs in this town. I could have my pick of them before you reach that door."

He rolled his eyes at her as if to tell her to find one of them. A silence fell between them, and finally, Camilla said, "You know, every interview you go on, they're going to ask you what you did, and when you tell them, they're going to judge you, you know? The difference with me is that I'm not about to ask you what you did."

"I don't see the difference since you're judging me anyway," he said.

She shrugged. "Well, it's the truth; employers want to know who they are hiring." I am not judging you, but I wonder if I want to hire you for this position, short-staffed or not." Her smile was gone. She was looking him over carefully, almost mournfully. Abel could see something in her eyes trying to read him, connect with him. He knew the look all too well. He had seen it in the eyes of the judge who convicted him, some correctional officers, and even his parole officer.

They all felt the same way. "Poor little Mexican statistic" he had such a bright future.

"Your brother is trying to help you," she said, "and your brother is a good man. I promised him to give you a chance and hire you, but I can't make you work here if you don't want the job."

She got up from the table and smiled down at him. "Good luck with your job search, Mr. Delgado. If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

She turned and walked away from him, back to the counter. In that short time, he looked out the window and saw his brother's car still idling in the cool evening air. What was he going to say to him when he got back? Sorry, 'mano. She was a real shrew, you know? We just did not hit it off.

None of that would matter to Rafael. He was trying to make up for the last ten years by helping Abel land his first job since prison, and Abel was about to shove it back in his face. So, instead, he inhaled silently and turned around.

"Hey, uh, Ms. Nunez?" She stopped and turned around to him, looking at him expectantly. "When do you want me to start?"

Chapter two

Chapter Two

The minute he walked in, Camilla felt he was bad news. For one thing, Rafael's brother looked like a gang member, even with his wrinkled dress shirt and khaki slacks. He was tall and muscular and handsome, from what she could see. She could see his muscles through the oversized dress shirt. His dark hair was just a little too long, hanging over his collar and almost to his shoulders. He had a deceptively innocent-looking face with round brown eyes like a puppy's, but Camilla did not allow his looks to sway her. The scars on his knuckles translated to someone who had spent a lot of time-fighting and was rough around the edges.

Camilla knew it wasn't right to judge him so quickly and harshly. Maybe she wouldn't have if he'd had a better attitude. But, instead, all Camilla knew was that it was a good thing that Rafael was a family friend. Otherwise, she'd never even given someone like his brother a snowball's chance.

She told Abel that he would start the next day and to dress casually but with no jeans and tennis shoes. After that, she planned to get his size and order him uniforms, but in the meantime, it should be fine since he was going to be working in the back. Still, an hour before his shift, she expected him to walk in wearing dirty jeans, a white sleeveless t-shirt, a bandana over his eyes, and a toothpick in his mouth.

To her surprise, he arrived as she'd suggested. He wore a plain black t-shirt, brown slacks, and loafers. His hair was still too long, but it wasn't like she could tell him to get a haircut in a day. He walked in, and she looked him over silently as she stood behind the counter. She spotted the bottom of a tattoo peeking out of his sleeve and pursed her lips. She didn't care much for tattoos, but at least his was mainly covered.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Abel was about five minutes early. "You're late."

His brow furrowed. "I'm five minutes early."

"You should be here fifteen minutes early," she said. "My father always said, If you're on time, you're late."

He raised one dark eyebrow. "Are you going to dock me for it?"

Smart-aleck" and smirked at her. "Not this time. Come on."

She tossed him an apron and waved at him to follow her. He caught the apron, walked behind the counter, and followed her to the back.

The staff had just cleaned the back room of the pizzeria. The pizza boxes were all on the back counter, stacked to the ceiling in three neat rows. Next to them was an industrial sink, and next to that was a wall with cooking utensils hanging from it, including a sizeable wooden pizza peel. On the counter were several tools, pans, and knives, all for pizza making. In the center of the room was one metal counter where Abel would make the pizzas, and in one corner were the pizza ovens – four in total.

"This is where you'll be working," she said. She walked over to the small window looking out at the counter area. "You'll get your ticket here, and whatever it says, you'll make. Easy enough?"

He was watching her with a strange one-sided smile on his face, his arms crossed. "Sure," he said.

"And hair nets are in the cabinet behind you." She watched as he turned slightly and looked at the cabinet, registering where it was but making no move to get one. Then, finally, she huffed and got a hair net for him, handing it to him. "I don't want to see you working without one."

"Sure," he said again.

Next, Camilla went over the arduous task of showing Abel how to make a pizza. She went step by step, showing him where everything was and what tools to use, then showing him exactly how to make the dough, the sauce, and the rest of the toppings. Everything, so far, was bagged up and prepared, so this was easy. She was thankful she didn't have to show him how she made everything he'd be using.

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