Page 29 of Dirty Empire

Chapter Ten: Part Two Viva La Mexico

Maverick

An hour later, Hazel knocks on the adjoining door and slides it open slowly. I’m planted at the desk with my iPad and docking station.

“You don’t have to knock, you know...” I say, turning to face her.

“Okay. I won’t knock anymore. I’m ready.” Her azure eyes run deep like the tropical waters I surround myself with. I’d texted her after we got settled that we could go into town if she wanted to do some exploring. I’d been to this part of Mexico, so many times, it doesn't really excite me anymore, but it will probably mean a lot to her. Is this what I’ve become? A man who does things just because it makes his girl happy?

I stand up from the desk and grab my keys. A short drive later and we’re in the town center. I park behind a line of cars and help Hazel out of the vehicle. We walk hand in hand toward the busiest part of the community.

The town center is the hub of the community. Multitudes of restaurants, novelty stores, and other small businesses dominate both sides of the street. The main avenue is only a block from the ocean. Within minutes, we reach the end of the road. Hazel spots a handmade jewelry shop and coaxes me inside with her. As she peers around the store, she admires all of the handmade jewelry.

“It's a lot like Tahiti, but all the jewelry has different colors and designs,” she says in awe, looking down at the table.

I nod. “Every culture is different in their handmade art.”

I followed her around the center as she oohed and ahhed at everything.

“So what are we exactly?” she asks as we stroll alongside the sidewalk, weaving around people that stop at the kiosks.

“As in...” I know what she’s asking, but I want to hear it from her mouth. I wouldn’t be doing all this if I didn’t have feelings for her.

“I mean,” she stops and turns to face me. “We don’t have to put a label on anything. If you don’t want to be exclusive-“

I grab her hand and intertwine our fingers. “I haven’t fucked anyone else since I first laid eyes on you. You’re mine, Hazel. And if you think for a second that I’m ever going to let you go, you’re wrong. Is that enough of a label for you?”

She pulls her bottom lips in between her teeth. “It’s just our relationship hasn’t exactly been... traditional.”

I can’t hold back my laugh, and she smiles. “No, I definitely wouldn’t say it’s been traditional. But you’re mine, and I’m all yours.”

“I cheated on my husband. You're not afraid-“

“Your husband was a piece of shit, and if you think I’d judge you for something like that, then you don’t know me at all. I’ve done a lot worse in my life than you ever have.”

Her tawny throat moves as she swallows. The weight of my words hang in the air, but they're true. The woman who stands before me is so much stronger than the one I meet that first day. Miles broke her down until she was nothing, but she’s built herself back up, and I’m one lucky motherfucker to be able to witness her strength.

She nods. “Okay.”

I lean down and place a kiss on her forehead, inhaling her scent as I do.

It wasn’t until she started complaining about her feet hurting that I suggest we stop in one of the small restaurants. I pick one on the corner of the street. It’s two stories; the bottom holds a small shop, and the restaurant is on the top floor. I’ve been here a couple of times before. I follow her as she ascends the stairs first, her hips swaying. The memory of holding them as we made love filters through my mind. She pauses momentarily and sighs in pain. Clutching the handrail with one hand, the other hand on her head. I scan her body with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think so. I just got a little dizzy for a minute, but I’m okay,” she replies breathily.

“Are you sure?” I persist.

She waves me off. “Yes, I’m fine.”

I look her over, not believing her for a second, but I let it slide. I wrap an arm around her waist as we walk the rest of the way up the stairs. The hostess sits us at a booth in the corner, so we have some privacy. Hazel opens the menu and smiles.

“I guess I didn't think about everything being written in Spanish,” she says.

The waitress comes over, and I order for both of us.

“I didn't know you were fluent.”

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