Aaron Under Construction

He held the door open and breathed deeply when she walked by. His memory hadn’t disappointed. Her fresh scent smelled the same as in his dreams.

“What are you hungry for?” She stopped next to her truck.

A gust of wind blew her hair across her face and he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans to keep from brushing the strands sticking to her lip gloss. “I’ll eat anything but Mexican.”

Her eyes rounded.

Unable to resist, he tapped his finger against the tip of hernose. “Hey, I’m kidding.” Sort of. Aaron preferred seafood and steak. He seldom ate ethnic foods. Maybe it was time to broaden his food horizons.

She wrinkled her dainty nose. “Follow me.”

I’ll follow you anywhere, babe.

“THIS WAY,” Jennifer instructed after she and Aaron had parked their trucks on the street. Rosa’s Café sat tucked away in the back of an alley near Santa Angelita’s business district. “Beware. This place isn’t known for its ambience or imported beer. And forget Tex-Mex entrées. Rosa serves authentic Mexican dishes.”

“I’m not sure I understand the difference between Tex-Mex and authentic Mexican,” Aaron confessed.

“Rosa and her husband, Jesús, prepare the food themselves and use only boiled, shredded meat and white cheeses such as asadero in the dishes.” Good food aside, Jennifer had chosen the café because of its familiarity. Rosa’s grounded her. Reminded her of where she came from and where she belonged—the barrio. The place also reminded her of where Aaron hailed from—somewhere outside the barrio.

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