“Do you really want to drive back and forth? More snow’s due. May make roads challenging—if not impassable—in the next few days. All that could delay us. I think part of Julien’s strategy is that we’re more likely to interact creatively if we’re not constrained by work hours and if we have time for spontaneous interaction.”
Spontaneous interaction. She wondered if he’d added the emphasis to the words or if she’d imagined it.
But his argument was sound. If they were snowed in, better it be together than with her stranded in a hotel room across town. “You’re right.”
“Breakfast?” he offered.
She wondered what went with a side of simmering sensuality. “Is there coffee on the menu?”
“Regular and piñon.”
“Piñon?”
“It’s local. Made from pine nuts.”
“Sounds…interesting.”
“I thought you were going to live dangerously while you were here.” He parallel parked in front of the building then turned off the engine. “Might as well get started. I’ll keep your secrets.”
Damn. This man was dangerous.
While she slipped her phone into her purse, he came around and opened the vehicle door. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m quite capable of doing that myself.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Though she wouldn’t admit it to him, or even herself, she appreciated the courtesy. A sudden wind gusted around them, shattering the moment. No doubt the weather predictions were accurate, and she zipped up her coat.
She preceded him into the restaurant.
A number of enticing scents wrapped around her. Eggs. Bacon. Green chile. And, yes there is a God, coffee. “I love it.” She surveyed the scarred black-and-white checkered- linoleum tiles on the floor. A portion of one wall was decorated with broken pieces of cups and plates, designed and glued in a mosaic style. Other walls had family photos and scenic landscapes.
There were a couple of dozen tables in the dining room.
“It’s been here since World War II. The Montoya family has owned it the entire time.”
“Hey, handsome!” a woman called out. “Sit anywhere. I’ll be right with you.”
He waved in acknowledgment then picked up a menu from the front counter and led Aria to a booth near the window.
She shrugged, unzipped her coat and tried not to stare as he shrugged from his.
He wore a long-sleeved navy shirt that made his eyes look even more startling.
Aria had sworn off men, and it was a good thing. He was definitely the type of man to whom she was attracted. Tall. Rugged. Independent. Assertive. Damn it. Damn Julien.
As soon as they sat, the woman slid a mug of steaming coffee in front of Grant. That he didn’t need to order showed Aria he was a regular.
“A hundred thousand blessings on you,” he said.
Another thing they had in common. Love of the almighty brew.
“Blanca,” he said after taking a sip. “I’d like to introduce my colleague, Aria DeWitt.”
“Do you also work for Mr. Bonds?” Blanca asked Aria.
“I do. You’ve met him?”
“A few times. He’s…delicious.”
“Delicious?” Aria repeated. Clearly the woman was attracted to Julien. And who wouldn’t be?
“I mean he’s interesting.”
“Now that’s an understatement,” Aria said.
“He says he only works with smart people who are able to solve problems.”
The compliment made her suspicious. “Why do I feel as if I’m being set up here?” Aria shot a glance in Grant’s direction.
“I have nothing to do with it.” He took a drink then sat back.
Aria was very much aware of his gaze, as if he were watching the way she interacted with his friend.
“I need a program for my phone that lets me sync responsibilities with other people in my family and in the business.”
Because of her position at Bonds, Aria didn’t get to interact with end users the way she would like, and this opportunity thrilled her. Leaning forward, she invited, “Tell me more.”
“Mi abuela takes seven or eight different medications. She has physical therapy, doctors’ appointments and she needs to run personal errands, like grocery shopping and going to the beauty salon. Family members spend a lot of time calling each other to see if someone picked up meds at the pharmacy, who is taking her to see the doctor, does she have follow-up visits scheduled…that sort of thing.” Blanca exhaled a whiff of breath. “Then with the restaurant. Did we get food ordered? When is it scheduled to arrive? Who’s opening? Who’s closing? Whose turn is it to roast the chiles? It gets complicated.”
“So it’s more than just a calendar you can all access?”
“It’s for the business. It’s for our family members. Yes.”
“Let me think about it,” Aria said. “Checklists. Accessible by a number of people. Real-time synchronization. Reminders. Notes.” She nodded as ideas formed and coalesced. This was the type of challenge she loved. If she could figure it out, she could make a real difference in people’s lives. “Maybe the ability to add handwritten entries.”
Aria pulled out her oversized phone, removed the stylus from the side then tapped open an app and scrawled ideas on the screen. “Can I get your contact information?”
Blanca gave it, and Aria entered it into her address book.
“I’ll have something for you in the next couple of weeks.”
“Thank you,” Blanca said. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?”
“I’d take a pot of it,” she admitted.
“Piñon?”
“I…”
“Try mine,” Grant offered.
Sharing was intimate, maybe more so than she wanted to be. He slid the cup toward her. A bit reluctantly, she wrapped her hand around the cup. Before tasting the brew, she wrinkled her nose.
“Her first visit to New Mexico, I think,” Grant said.
“It is,” Aria acknowledged.
“Wait till we get some agave in her,” Blanca teased.
“Agave?”
“Otherwise known as tequila,” Grant supplied. “Try the coffee.”
She took a drink. The dark brew wasn’t as bitter as she expected, and it did have a slightly nutty flavor. “It’s different.”
“I can get you a cup of that or I can bring a Colombian roast.”
“Live dangerously,” Grant reminded her.
“Okay. I’ll have the piñon,” Aria agreed.
“I recommend huevos rancheros for breakfast,” Grant said before Blanca left. “And we could take home some tamales.”
“I’m not sure I’ve had either, but I’m willing to try.”
“Eggs over medium?”
Aria nodded, and he told Blanca, “Two of them.”
“You don’t have an electronic system?” Aria asked when Blanca scribbled down the order.
“We’re still old fashioned.” Blanca shrugged.
“Are you interested?”
“We looked into it once. It was too expensive.”
“What’s expensive is the kitchen misunderstanding orders—or running out of products.”
Blanca winced and looked at Grant. “Speaking of that, I sold the last piece of sour cherry apple pie last night.”
He put his hand over his heart. “But I live for it.”
“I bet Ms. DeWitt can keep you going.” Blanca pocketed her pad.
“I’m here for work.”
“Oh. I thought…”
“No,” Aria said firmly. No matter how tempting, she refused to consider the idea. “We’re coworkers, nothing more. But I might be able to help you out. Imagine this… You enter the order directly on your phone. The kitchen receives it before you leave the table. The inventory system is alerted and tracks the reorder point. You could allow your customers to swipe their credit card on your phone, or better yet, they could use a payment system, if they’d rather. Unless th
ey want to, people won’t need to wait in line to pay at the front cash register.”
“Just think,” Grant told Blanca, “if you were using Aria’s ordering system, our food would already be on its way.”
“You’re hungry? Sorry,” Blanca said insincerely.
“And I’d be enjoying a second cup of coffee.”
“Some customers had better leave a really big tip.”
Aria grinned at the exchange between the two of them.
Without another word, Blanca scooted off.
Having breakfast in the restaurant allowed Aria to see Grant interact with other people. He was obviously at ease with Blanca, in a casual place. And with the way they joked, it was obvious he was well regarded. All of a sudden, he wasn’t just an enigma or adversary, but a fully formed person with a sense of humor that she appreciated.
After delivering the coffee, Blanca hustled over to the kitchen, ripped the top piece of paper from her pad, affixed it to a rickety-looking metal wheel and spun it toward the kitchen as she shouted, “Order up!”
“We can make the process so much easier for them,” Aria observed.
“You’ll lose all this character if you convert them to an electronic system.”
“You’re sounding crotchety, and not at all what I would expect from a technical guru.” Aria touched the send button on her phone then slid her stylus back into its spot. “You should be thinking about what they’ll gain, rather than what we’ll lose. Add Internet ordering, even an app. People can call ahead, order online and have their food ready when they arrive. Like in the big city.”
“Do you attack all problems like this?”
“I don’t like to waste time or opportunities.” She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug and pulled it toward her. “I love working on practical applications,” she said. “Ways to make life better, easier for people. Don’t misunderstand. I love flashy things, gadgets, but for me, my heart is in those small things that you realize you can’t live without.”
He nodded. “Nothing wrong with flashy things.”
A server slid a basket of chips and a dish of salsa onto the table.
“Like the hologram project?”
He’d been reaching for a chip, but he lowered his hand. “What do you know about the hologram project?”
“Not much. I’m told it’s stalled. I’ve heard there’s some real-world challenges with it.” She regarded him.
“It has practical applications,” he said, sounding a little defensive. “Have you seen Julien enter a meeting via hologram yet?”
She shook her head. “But there are Laws of Physics, relativity, that sort of stuff.”
“Minor constraints.”
He was like a man possessed. Suddenly she saw why Julien was concerned.
“No matter what he says, he’s not going to be able to live without it.”
“It’s fun. It’s a diversion. Maybe it should stay that way.”
“I’ve spent months on it.”
She understood his frustration, especially if a solution felt close. She also knew the danger of staying with a project too long.
Blanca arrived with their meals, scattering the tension.
“Is it rude to dip my tortilla in the egg?” Aria asked.
“Yes. Unconscionably,” he said.
“It’s perfectly fine,” Blanca corrected. “Don’t listen to him.”
But he was grinning as he tore a strip from his tortilla.
“See?” Blanca asked.
Aria ate every single bite of her meal. “Okay, so I’m starting to see the appeal of New Mexico.”
“Sopapillas or flan for dessert?” Blanca asked, returning to scoop up the empty plates. “Maybe some tres leches cake?”
“I’m not sure what that is.”
“Literally? Three milks. It’s mi abuela’s recipe. We make it with sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk and cream.”
Even though she’d already eaten, Aria’s mouth watered. “All that calcium has to be good for my bones.”
“Two forks?” Blanca asked.
“One,” Grant responded.
Blanca went behind a counter, and Aria watched the woman cut one of the biggest slices she’d ever seen.
“No one has dessert after breakfast,” Grant protested when the plate was placed in front of her.
“We’re living dangerously, remember? And I never pass up the opportunity to eat on someone else’s expense account.”
“Who said I’m buying?”
“No one. I’m putting it on my Bonds’ credit card,” she said with a grin. “When Julien gets the bill for this trip, he’ll think twice about making me leave California at this time of the year.” Then she added a quart of green chile and a dozen tortillas to go along with Grant’s tamale order. “Julien is buying all that, too.”
After she’d polished off the last bite, Grant looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “Where do you put it all?”
There was no mistaking the expression of appreciation in his gaze. She hadn’t been wrong about the pulse of attraction she’d felt earlier.
She knew she carried a few extra pounds, but it seemed he either didn’t notice or care—or maybe he even appreciated it. “I exercise. Some would say compulsively.”
“I’ve got a workout room at my place.”
Judging by the size of his biceps, he used the equipment. To distract herself, she wriggled back into her jacket and didn’t look in his direction.
At the front register, she paid the bill and promised to stay in touch with Blanca.
As she was already coming to expect, he opened the vehicle’s door for her before putting their to-go order in the back, near that curiosity-inducing duffel bag.
“We have a co-op and a regular grocery store.” He checked the rear-view mirror. “Which do you prefer?”
“Does the co-op have junk food?”
“The grocery store it is.”
She filled the cart with cereal, cookies, potato chips, her favorite double caffeine, high-sugar soda, two more bags of coffee and a container of artificially flavored creamer.
“Pumpkin pie spice?” he asked.
She plucked a second one from the shelf. “And vanilla latte. Don’t tell me… Your body’s a temple. You never put anything sugared, artificially sweetened or laced with preservatives in it.”
“Do you eat anything good for you?” he countered when she stopped in front of the frozen food section.
“I’ve got to keep up my energy.” She grabbed a double pepperoni pizza.
“Vegetables and meat give you energy.”
“I thought we were planning on working. And by the way, I really don’t cook.”
“I do.”
“You…cook?”
“Not always. Rarely, in fact. But I can manage something. Put the pizza back.”
“I don’t think you understand. It has cheese in the crust.”
He plucked the brightly colored carton from her hands.
“Wait. It’s comfort food.”
“You can eat as many of them as you want when you get back to California.” He shuddered.
“Are you always so damn bossy?”
“Aria, you have no idea.” With that, he took hold of the cart and wheeled it toward the produce section.
“I don’t eat asparagus,” she said when he reached for a bunch of the green, sword-like stalks.
“You haven’t had it prepared well, in that case.”
He picked up lettuce, specialty cheeses, olives and a gorgeous-looking loaf of bread before heading to the checkout lanes.
When they had loaded up the car, he asked, “Anything else you need?”
“Wine?”
“We’ve got plenty.”
“In that case, I might survive for a few days.”
He drove away from the city and into the surrounding mountain area.
“It’s quiet here,” she observed about fifteen minutes later. The homes were more spread out, and they
passed fewer and fewer cars.
“Peaceful,” he agreed.
Her cell signal bars had faded to nothing before he turned off the road and onto a narrow paved driveway that sloped down then appeared to vanish around a corner. She didn’t see a house, just a random tree, some cactus, and lots of rock and potential for a sharp drop down the sheer mountainside. “Ah…”
“Relax. It’s not as death-defying as it appears.”
She gripped the handle in front of her.
“I installed grappling hooks to the undercarriage. They’ll grab the rock so we don’t fall off the road.”
“I’m not sure if you’re kidding.”
“About which part?”
No more than thirty seconds later he braked to a stop in front of a set of metal gates. They were set into a thick adobe fence with a rounded top. The gates were teal in color with spikes jutting out from a figure that resembled a humped-back flute player.
“Kokopelli,” he said when she asked about it. A moment later, the gates swung open. “Along with the sun found on our state flag, you’ll see a lot of him in New Mexico. He’s a Hopi god, if I have my anthropology correct. He represents fertility.”
“You’re making that up.”
“Am I?”
From his tone, she had no idea whether or not he was joking.
Grant drove through the opening into a large courtyard and she saw his house for the first time. It, too, was adobe, light tan in color. The home had a slight curve to it so it conformed more naturally to the surroundings. A number of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows added a unique touch.
“Not bad for a cave?” he asked, his voice light with a tease.
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “I apologized for that comment—or at least I think I did.”
“You shouldn’t have. The house is built partially into the mountain.”
“It’s spectacular, Grant.” Off to right side was an outdoor living area with a tall, concrete fountain and several seating areas, complete with lounge chairs and assorted-sized tables. Several planters were filled with small trees and perhaps lavender.
As the gates eased closed behind them, she felt as if they were being sealed off from the rest of the world.
He parked in front of a detached two-car garage. “Let’s go in, get you out of the wind. I’ll come back for your luggage.”
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