Page 25 of Dream Chaser

An hour later, I was still sprawled out on the same lounge chair by the outdoor pool where he’d left me. Soft amber lights illuminated the area as I scheduled content and drafted captions for the street gear brand. Work was a much-needed distraction from my problems. Like the divorce. The party I hadn’t gone to. And the unease that had settled in my stomach when Alejandro strolled off in a white button-down, hair impeccably styled, handsome as ever.

Footsteps pounded against the tiles, and I lifted my eyes. My breath caught.

Alejandro.

What was he doing here? Had he come back to fire me for missing an opportunity to network?

A barely there smile tugged at his mouth as he sank onto the lounge chair next to mine, hands clasped on his knees.

“You’re going to cost me a lot with all the overtime you’re doing, Nova Lockhart.”

My pulse sped up. I locked my phone and set it aside. “It’s not overtime. I just. . .”

I could be honest and tell him I’d take work over what was going on in my personal life any day, but it’d raise questions I didn’t want to answer.

“The sponsor’s event is over,” Alejandro pointed out. “It’s nine p.m., and you’re on your work phone instead of at the party. Looks very much like overtime to me.” He rubbed his chin. “And as someone who once worked very long hours for very little money, I’m a firm believer that nobody should do it for free.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “But I just wanted to schedule the posts while it’s all fresh. It’s not your fault I chose to work more hours.”

“I’m definitely to blame.”

My eyes met his, and he sighed. “I should’ve told you ahead of time that we might attend other informal events here. You were blindsided, and I apologize for that.”

“Well, you shouldn’t.” I sat straighter. “I just wasn’t really in the mood to mingle.”

Alejandro ran the pad of his thumb over the face of his watch. “I wasn’t either. Then I remembered the promise I made you, so here I am.”

My heart was pounding in my throat now. “The promise?”

“I promised you’d try paella in Spain. Tomorrow looks busy, and I can’t guarantee we’ll go out on race days. Which leaves only tonight. Unless you already had dinner.”

I couldn’t spend money on dinner, not before asking what travel expenses the agency covered, but there was no easy way to ask without seeming exactly what I was—a woman with no roof over her head and with just enough money to buy food and gas.

How long would I be able to carry on like this? I bit my inner cheek, shoving that thought in the same box as the thoughts about my divorce.

Not tonight. Tonight, I was saying yes to paella.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” I said. “Paella sounds amazing.”

Alejandro rose, smiling like I’d never seen him do. “Let’s go, then.”

***

A tall man with wavy, chin-length hair hugged Alejandro tightly, slapping him on the back. They exchanged a few phrases in Spanish, then Alejandro motioned toward me.

“Manu, ella es Nova.”

She’s Nova. At least I understood that. Manu—Manuel—was the owner of the restaurant, and Alejandro’s close friend, by the looks of it.

“Nova.” Manu pulled me into an affectionate hug. “About time. I’ve been waiting for someone to make a decent man out of Ale for the last seven years.”

Oh, God. My face burned. “No, no. He’s my boss.”

“Nova is my new marketing manager,” Alejandro said, unfazed. “Thanks for having us, Manu. This is Nova’s first time in Spain, and I promised her the best seafood paella, so obviously, I had to bring her here.”

“The best, huh?” Manuel curled his hand around Alejandro’s shoulder, squeezing. “No pressure then. Go sit over there.” He pointed at a dark brown wooden table for two by the wall. “I’ll bring wine.”

My stomach rumbled as we sat. The hanging lamp cast a golden glow over the table, and guitar music poured from the speakers. A bar spanned the length of the opposite wall, liquor bottles gleaming in the dim light. “I like this place. What does El Buen Vivir mean?”