Maria grinned back and said something in Spanish, then turned to Sophia. “Tomas is one for flattery, isn’t he, Sophia? You have passed the test.” She laughed at Tomas and ruffled his hair. “Sophia made the alfajores, Tomas.”
Tomas ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it after Maria messed it. Sophia had made them? It had been impossible to keep her from his thoughts today, knowing she was indoors working side by side with Maria. Something twisted inside him at the thought.
He smiled stiffly at Sophia. “You made these?”
She nodded proudly. “Maria showed me how.”
“They are very good,” he admitted as the buttery treat melted on his tongue. Sophia nibbled on her cookie as Maria put the plate on the table. Sophia stole a shy look at him and his body tightened unexpectedly in response. Instead he forced a laugh at something Carlos was saying.
This was crazy. It had only been days. How had she wiggled her way into his life so completely? For heaven’s sake, he’d held her in his arms all night and now he was complimenting her cooking while thinking about kissing her again. Her innocence did nothing to deter him, except perhaps make him understand he needed to be cautious.
She was watching him and he took a third cookie from the platter, something, anything to keep his hands busy as he tried very hard not to look back at her. He didn’t want Maria or Carlos to see what he knew would show in his eyes. Desire. More than that. Caring. He cared about her now. He licked the dulce de leche from the side of the cookie before biting into it. Joining the real world again was a bit painful, but perhaps good. For the first time, he felt as if he could leave his past behind him.
He brushed the crumbs from his lap and stood, stretching. Sophia watched him, and he felt his pulse leap beneath her appraisal. Maybe he was feeling the effects of the generous helpings of Malbec. Maybe things were finally waking that had been slumbering too long. And who safer than Sophia? She was only temporary in his life and they both knew it. She would not expect more of him than he was prepared to give. Right now all he wanted was to be alone with her. He had missed her today. He’d missed it just being the two of them.
But first there was another tradition to uphold. He went over to her and held out his hand. “Sophia. Maria has made mate. You must try it. It’s practically our national drink.”
Maria was at the table pouring hot water into a gourd. “Oh, Sophia. I have made us some mate. Have you tried it yet?”
Sophia shook her head, looking curiously down at the gourd. Tomas watched her, amused at her skeptical expression. He’d seen that look before during the asado whenever she’d been offered something new and different. She’d pressed to know what some of the selections were and he’d laughed when she’d politely—but definitively—passed. But the mate was safe. “It’s tea,” he explained. “Nothing sinister, I promise.”
She looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t look like tea.”
He couldn’t help it, he smiled. There it was again, the childish innocence that was so refreshing. “It’s an acquired taste,” he admitted. “But you should try it.”
“Come,” Maria called, and led the way over to the campfire where they all sat, looking into the flames, relaxing.
“Sophia, I checked my books today. I thought you would want me to get to the bottom of your reservation.”
To her left, Tomas accepted the gourd from Maria and drank of the tea. “Yes, of course! I totally forgot to ask you today.”
“It does seem we refunded your…perdón, Señor Doucette’s money when he cancelled.”
Sophia’s face flamed. “Oh,” she said, suddenly embarrassed as she realized she had spent the week here without paying for it. “I see.” She tried a smile but it felt false on her lips. “Well, I’m glad to know. Perhaps we can look after the details in the morning, Maria?”
“Of course. And there is no rush, Sop
hia. Don’t give it another thought.”
Tomas drank his tea and Sophia couldn’t meet his eyes. She’d been wrong all along, and she remembered how bossy and horrid she’d been to Tomas that first day. She’d been wrong about so many things—the reservation was the least of it.
Then he passed the gourd to Sophia. “You drink it from a straw, see?” He said it quietly. “A bombilla.”
“Bombilla,” she repeated, staring down at the straw and feeling foolishly adolescent as she realized his lips had been the last on it. She took the gourd and put her lips on the bombilla. She sipped the hot brew, slightly bitter but somehow pleasant.
“Now you pass it back to Carlos. And we pass it around until it is gone.”
As the mate made the rounds no more was said about her unpaid bill; it was as though it didn’t even matter. What was important to the Rodriguezes tonight was being together. She saw it in Carlos and Maria as Carlos reached over and took his wife’s hand, and in Tomas, who sipped the mate and reached for another cookie. She was beginning to see how many things here centered around family and community. It was a far simpler approach to life than she was accustomed to and she found she preferred it to rounds of air kisses and handshakes.
And it was something she didn’t dare get used to. Now that she knew her reservation at Vista del Cielo had been cancelled, she knew she needed to leave. She had started to care about Tomas too much. What was left for her here? Nothing. Nothing but getting more accustomed to Tomas, and to Maria’s friendliness and Carlos’s quiet ways. Used to more sunrises over the pampas and listening to the birds call goodnight through the open window of her room. More pretending that this was her life when it wasn’t. Not even close. When the mate was gone Tomas leaned over, his quiet voice warm in her ear. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
She nodded, shivering both from the cool air on her arms and from the intimate whisper. “Yes, I think I would. I need to walk off some of this food.”
More than that, she needed to tell him she was leaving. She was free to do as she pleased—settle up the bill and do what she wanted for the last few days of her trip. It was time for this charade to end and for her to get back to reality.
Tomas informed Maria and Carlos in Spanish and held out his hand. Sophia took it, more affected than she cared to admit by the feel of his warm, rough palm encompassing hers.
But if he had ideas of kissing in his head again, he was sadly mistaken. No more kissing, no long looks, no arguments that served to fuel the passion between them.