Love’s Influence by Tori Alvarez

Chapter 3

Wantinga few quiet moments to myself in the light of a new day, I wake early. Dressed and ready for the day’s adventure, I head downstairs for some coffee and to find a comfy chair in a quiet nook.

With a steaming cup of coffee on the side table I rummage through my bag for my notepad and pen. Taking notes on my phone would be so convenient, but there’s just something about paper and pen that I love. I tuck my legs under me, using the arm rest to place my notebook while I write.

I was buzzed and so tired last night, I didn’t write out any thoughts about the day. Wanting to make sure I document everything for my blog, I begin writing. Scribbling ideas, feelings, smells before they are a distant memory clouded by today’s experiences.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Lorenzo’s voice breaks through my focus.

Surprised by his greeting, I look up, but no words leave my mouth. He comes to stand in front of my chair. He is dressed casually in black shorts and a polo-style shirt, very different than his appearance yesterday. I let my gaze fall to his tattoo-covered arm then back up to meet his eyes where a small, teasing smile greets me.

“I still don’t know what to call you, so ‘beautiful’ seemed the best option.” His caramel eyes are dancing with amusement.

Embarrassed I have not shared my name with him, I find my voice, “Good morning. I’m Olivia Moran.”

“It’s nice to formally meet you, Olivia. And I’m sure you know my name, but in case you have forgotten with the wine consumption yesterday, I’m Lorenzo DeZavala, Executive Chef.”

“I have not forgotten your name.” A smirk creeps on my face.

“Why are you up so early?” he inquires.

“I didn’t have a chance to write up any notes yesterday. I fell asleep as soon as I got to my room after dinner. I want to make sure I document everything.” I ramble unnecessarily.

He turns around, picking up a small ottoman, then placing it in front of me and sitting down.

“Why so many notes to document?” His eyes narrow in question.

I lick my lips, a little nervous all his attention is on me. “For my blog and the articles I write. I’m not only on social media. I have a blog with a nice following. While my Instagram page gets many likes and follows, people go to my blog when they want to know everything about a place,” I begin explaining. “Instagram only allows so many characters, and that’s okay for a tease, but most places need more. A more in-depth look at the place, food, or drinks. How would I be able to showcase yesterday in a post or two? Impossible. I’m still working out the details, but I think I will have a few blogs dedicated to this trip. I’ll figure out how I’ll break it up after the trip. Some ideas are to showcase the hotel in one, the wines in another, the food in another…” My mind begins drifting thinking of the possibilities.

“Interesting. I didn’t realize. Do the rest of them have blogs?”

“I don’t think so. The couple I’m familiar with don’t, but I don’t know all of them.” I answer diplomatically, not wanting to step on any toes even if I think most of them are shallow.

“I wouldn’t think so with the number of selfies I saw them taking.” He shakes his head.

A laugh escapes, even though I’m trying to play nice.

Wanting to change the subject and not put my foot in my mouth, I ask, “Why weren’t you at the dinner last night?”

“I wanted the food to speak for itself. I didn’t want my presence to influence any discussions. Sometimes people aren’t honest about how they feel about the food when the chef is present. Carson will debrief me on the discussions.”

“So you want honesty about the menu?” I ask.

“Of course.” He places his elbows on his thighs leaning in closer.

“First, you were right about the Muscat wine pairing. It was spectacular. I couldn’t believe how the food transformed the wine.”

He cocks a brow knowingly, so I continue.

“I loved each of the dishes. They had the right amount of richness with simplicity. Nothing was overdone.”

“Overdone?” His head leans in question.

“Yes, overdone. Like when people are trying too hard to impress. They overdo it. Your menu didn’t do that. Each dish alternated between simple flavors and decadence.” I smile.

“And that is exactly what I tried to do. I’m so glad someone noticed and appreciated it.” His eyes sparkle. “What is the name of your blog?”

“All About SA.”

“I’m going to look it up.” A mischievous smirk takes over his face. “What does your day hold?”

“Do you really not know our itinerary?” I cock my brow, holding a smile.

His shrug is noncommittal. “Let’s just say if you stumble across Cris’s Coffee, you should stop in. They have a great cup of coffee and pastries. Most tourists skip over it because it’s not on the main downtown strip. It’s a block off Tenth Avenue on Navarro.”

“I’ll look for it. Sounds like a place I would love.”

“I’ll let you get back to it.” He stands, moving the ottoman back to where it was. He extends his hand, so I place mine in his. He leans down, kissing it, then with a wink, he walks away.

Disappointed at his departure, I look around the room, which has become a bit busier, and notice Brenda across the room, staring in my direction. I wonder if she saw our exchange. I take a deep breath, shake my head to myself, and spend the next twenty minutes before breakfast finishing up my notes.

I am the last one to join the breakfast table. The others have already ordered mimosas and are clinking glasses. Not wanting to indulge so early, I order a sparkling water with a splash of grapefruit juice. They look at me oddly, but this way I still have an illusion of a cocktail for the pictures of breakfast.

After fruit, a delicious omelet, and pastries, everyone is relaxed and chatting. As they order another round, I wonder how they will make it through the whole day. These women seem to be around my age, so I can’t understand why I’m not meshing with them.

“You looked cozy with Lorenzo this morning,” Brenda chimes in loudly enough for the table to hear, but directing it at me.

“Really?” I act as normal as I can, prepared for her comment. “We were just talking.”

“About?” she asks, like it is any of her business.

“Dinner last night. I was telling him how delicious it was.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, not bothering to hide her displeasure. “Yeah, right.” She laughs, but I can tell it is fake. “We all would like a piece of the chef.” She nods her head, and a saccharine sugar smile spreads across her face.

The girls at the table are nodding, with a couple gracing the table with exaggerated moans and yeses. Now I’m even more uncomfortable and want to walk away, but my departure will only give them more ammunition to continue talking.

“You know, I read in an article that he’s a real snob. Some journalist tried to interview him, and he cut it short and walked away when he didn’t like the questions.”

“Really?” another girl chimes in, eyes wide.

Brenda shrugs, “According to the article. All I know is, I’ve been trying my damndest to get his attention, and he hasn’t taken the bait. I don’t know why he’s turning me down.” Her eyes roll dramatically.

What does she think? Just because she hits on a guy, they are obliged to fall for her?

“Maybe he’s gay?” Another girl leans into the table, whispering loudly.

“Nah. He probably just thinks he has a golden dick.” Brenda gulps the last of her drink.

“Golden dick or not, he can have me if he wants me,” Tammi says and giggles.

At this comment everyone nods and smiles in unison, with a couple of “hell yeahs.”

I laugh at them, trying to play it off but not saying anything either way. Would a fling with him be incredible? Of course. Would I turn it down? Hell no. But I won’t admit it to these vultures.