“Ah! Señor Cooper. Long time no see. We’ve been wondering where you’ve been,” the man exclaims in broken English.
“Busy, Carlos. Busy.”
“You work too much. Just like your father. God rest his soul.” The man makes the sign of the cross.
The man’s wife smiles at me and then speaks to Cooper in Spanish. “Esta es su novia? Ella es Hermosa.” The only words I understand are ella es hermosa—“she is beautiful.”
“Sí, ella es muy hermosa,” Cooper says, squinting at me with a devilish look on his face. “Y estoy trabajando en la parte novia.”
“Ahh.” The woman smiles at me and then says to Cooper, “Ella no tiene oportunidad.” She laughs.
“What did she say?” I ask Cooper.
“She said you don’t have a chance.”
“About what?”
He ignores my question. “They make the best tapas on the West Coast here.”
“You find someplace better on the East?” Carlos interrupts, looking highly offended.
“Just a figure of speech, Carlos. Just a figure of speech,” Cooper says, amused. “They have salads if you prefer,” he adds as I study the menu board.
“I like real food.”
He smiles like I’ve just given him the answer he hoped for. “Two Platos Combinados.”
“Dos cervezas por favor,” I add and Cooper arches an eyebrow.
I shrug. “Don’t be too impressed. I can only order two beers and ask directions to the bathroom.” We sit down at one of the picnic tables with our heaping plates. The smell is incredible. “So how many other languages do you speak?”
“Two—French and Italian. And what did you just do?”
“Nothing.”
“I saw you tap your knuckles on the table. Did you just knock on wood?”
I do so many things on autopilot, I seriously didn’t even give it any thought. I suppose most people I surround myself with are either used to it, or don’t pay close enough attention to catch my little idiosyncrasies. I shrug, trying to make light of it. “It’s good luck.”
“I thought it was more of an expression than an actual thing.”
“It’s a thing,” I say defensively.
“Guess it’s more your thing, than mine.”
“What’s your thing then?”
He doesn’t respond. Well, at least not verbally. But his eyes drop to my mouth and his lips curl to just a hint of a grin when his gaze returns to mine … damn it’s sexy. My insides do funny things thinking of what his thing might be.
“So. Three languages.” I lift a tapas to my mouth. “Prep school brat?”
Cooper chuckles at my quite obvious attempt to change the subject, but goes along with me anyway. “Actually, just the opposite. My father thought our school system was too segregated, so he put us in public school in a lower income area. Thought it would teach us about real life more than spending our days with a bunch of silver spoons.”
“Wow. Totally wasn’t expecting that response.”
“Told you to watch out about those expectations.”
I bite into the first of a packed plate of tapas. “Oh my god. This is incredible.”
“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
I inhale two small tapas. “How did you find this place?”
“Carlos and Glorya have been in this spot for almost thirty years. It was my parents’ favorite place to eat. My father always told everyone that he fell in love with my mother because she never ordered a salad.”
“Smart woman.”
“My mother said he took her here because he was cheap.”
“Which one was the truth?”
He smiles. “Both.”
When I’ve devoured almost everything on my plate and am reaching for the last sip of my beer, Cooper’s fingers circle one of my wrists. “They’re so small.”
I have to blink myself out of the dirty thoughts seeing his hand locked around my wrist conjures up. I swallow hard. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking I could probably fit both in one hand.”
Flustered, I ignore his comment and change the subject. “It sounded like you haven’t been here in a while?”
He nods and looks around. “It’s definitely been too long.”
“Too busy being a tycoon?”
“A tycoon, huh?” Lifting an eyebrow, he grins. “How do you know I’m a tycoon?”
“I can just tell.” I pause, but Cooper neither confirms nor denies my assumption. “Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong, actually. And what do you do? Aside from hustling cards?”