Love’s Influence by Tori Alvarez

Chapter 6

Sunlightthrough the window wakes me. Stretching, I notice I’m alone in bed. I swipe my hand over where Lorenzo slept, and it is cold. He left without a goodbye. As strong and powerful as I may have felt last night, that feeling quickly begins to melt away in the light of day. I can’t think of a time when I’ve been so bold. Taken so much risk. Been as overtly sexual. But Lorenzo has a way of making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the room. Hesitating, I pull the blankets over my head, not ready to face the day and a meeting with Carson.

Time is not on my side, though, because the alarm I set on my phone chimes. Wanting to make good on my promise to call Carson, I sit up to begin dressing for the day. Nothing can soothe the sting of a lover slinking off in the middle of the night, but a hot shower and coffee may make it tolerable.

One step into the bathroom, and my eyes land on the mirror. My lips spread wide with the message written on the mirror in lipstick. Later with a heart and an L greets me. He didn’t slink off, and last night doesn’t look to have been a one-night stand after all. I don’t know what or if anything is building, but right now I’m refusing to think about it.

After a call to Carson to set up up a lunchtime meeting, I dress and head downstairs for breakfast.

I hesitate at the door of the restaurant, not wanting to crowd Lorenzo or seem desperate. He left early for a reason even if he did leave a small note. This is the only restaurant on the premises, so a quick drive into town may be the best option.

I stride along Main Street to a great looking diner I saw the other day. It reminded me of the soda shops on classic TV shows my parents used to watch. It is a step back into time when I open the door. The long counter is filled with stools, a few tables are scattered about with booths along the long wall opposite the counter. It is the type of place that fills a person with nostalgia—the decor simple, color palate bright, and workers smiling.

Taking a seat on an open stool at the counter, I quickly realize this place can engage all your senses. The delicious smell of breakfast cooking on a flat-top grill, the minimal decorations, the smooth countertop, cold to the touch, the lively voices sharing stories all fill the senses. The only sense left is for me to taste an amazing breakfast.

“What can I get ya?” A bubbly girl who looks about high-school age comes up to me.

“Coffee, please.” I smile knowing she’s probably on summer break too. And instead of sleeping in, she’s working a busy breakfast crowd.

I listen in to the men on my right and their conversation. Not so much to be a nosy busybody, but because I’m curious about small town life and what keeps their days going. Talk about their predictions for the summer weather and how the crops will fare is their topic of choice. They work at one of the vineyards lining the highway.

A steaming cup of coffee is placed in front of me. “Gonna have anything else?” The high school girl asks with a happy smile.

“What do you suggest? Since I’m only in town for a couple of days, I want to make sure I taste all the local favorites.” This is not the week to be counting calories. I want the full experience.

Her eyes roll to the right for a second before she answers, “Well, I like the biscuits and gravy. My momma makes the best gravy. This is her place. But you don’t really look like the type of girl who indulges in a heavy breakfast.”

A small laugh escapes my lips at her correct assumption.

“Guilty.” I nod in confirmation of her guess. “I actually have a blog, and I write about all the places I go and restaurants I try. I’m Olivia.” I extend my hand to her.

She takes it as her eyes widen.

“Are you big?”

“I have a decent following. But I do have a day job that pays my bills.” Her innocence is refreshing.

“Sorry, that was probably rude. I’m Caitlyn.”

“Rude, not at all. Curious, yes.”

“How about I get you a couple of eggs with sausage or bacon…” Her question hangs for me to answer.

“Sausage and my eggs scrambled.”

“Got it. And not to worry, I’ll be bringing you out a biscuit with gravy to taste. Can’t let you leave here without momma’s gravy.” Her eyes sparkle as her lips spread across her face.

Not even a week away from the students and this small interaction has me missing those dumb kids. As much as they can make anyone and everyone pull their hair out, there are those moments when everything falls into place and the growth or aha moments happen.

I grab the creamer, pouring a small amount into my coffee before enjoying my first sip. I pull my phone out of my purse to capture a few pictures.

A couple of young mothers are struggling with toddlers and voicing their exhaustion and frustration at what many call “the joy of motherhood.” Not being a mother myself, I think that is something older, wiser women say not scare off the younger generation. I’m under no illusion that life will be easy when children are around. Coming from a big Mexican family, I know the trials children cause.

I try not to be too obvious in my picture taking. I make sure not to capture faces, because I’m not sure what the legalities of it will be if I share on my socials or blog. I plan on expanding, but the overwhelm of everything to be considered and legal jargon have kept me procrastinating.

“What is the name of your site and social handle?” Caitlyn startles me from my thoughts.

“ All About SA.” I answer honestly. Right now, I cater to the twenty- and thirty-something city crowd, but high school kids may be a new market if and when they begin to venture out in the world or to college.

“Cool. I’ll have to look it up,” she answers with a sing-song voice. “Will my momma’s place be featured?”

“Probably. I’m spending a few days here in the Hill Country, and I haven’t decided how I’m going to share all the incredible places I visit.”

“Wow! I can’t wait to show everyone who comes in that our place made it to a cool blog.”

I laugh at her innocence. “How do you know my blog is even cool? I could be some hack with 10 followers?”

“Nah. You look legit.” Her smile seems like a permanent fixture on her face.

“Let me check on your breakfast.” She walks away.

My phone vibrates on the counter. I pick it up to find a text from Lorenzo.

Still sleeping in or did you skip breakfast today?

He noticed I didn’t make it into his dining room.

I respond quickly. I came into town for breakfast.

Lorenzo: Wonderful. Text me when you finish with Carson. Can we meet up later?

Me: Absolutely. I’m meeting with Carson at noon. What is your day like?

Lorenzo: It’ll be a regular day until I see you again. I’ll be waiting.

A simple text sets a flurry of flutters in my stomach. Waiting. One word that can mean so much. At least in this context and for me.

The clank brings my eyes away from the screen to Caitlyn setting my plates on the counter.

“Do you need anything else?” I shake my head. “Well then, enjoy!” She turns to another customer who sat a few stools away from me.

My simple meal of eggs and sausage is overshadowed by the ginormous biscuit with gravy sitting on its own plate. I focus my phone camera on the breakfast, snapping a few pics of the two plates then zooming in and focusing on the biscuit. A classic buttermilk—I’m sure it’s delicious.

I quickly finish the pictures, wanting to ensure I enjoy a hot breakfast. That is the one thing I have never understood—how long it can take some influencers to take their pics. I’ve met a few influencers at different events, and they take forever to get the “perfect” picture. Are they really enjoying the lukewarm food?

I grab my fork, digging into the biscuit, making sure I have an ample amount of gravy in the bite. As I bring it up, the buttery aroma hits my nose. Caitlyn wasn’t joking when she said her momma made the best biscuits and gravy.

I finish my breakfast and leave a nice tip for Caitlyn, hoping she takes time to enjoy her summer. Walking off my breakfast seems to be the best idea right now since my meeting with Carson isn’t for over an hour. I grab my camera from the car and head out to catch the town in the morning light.

“Hello, beautiful.”Lorenzo walks up to me as I’m sitting in the lobby scribbling notes in my journal.

“Hi.” My body strums with the endearment. Call me a fairytale kind of girl. I watched too many growing up, and maybe I still wish for a prince charming, even a tattooed one. But I’ve also dated enough to know it is just that. A prince on a white horse does not exist. My brain knows this, but my heart refuses to listen.

“How has your day been?” He takes the chair beside me.

“Good. I went into town for breakfast and met with Carson. He liked my website and my ideas for the pieces. At least the rough ideas. I don’t want to lock myself into anything until I’m away and can piece it all together.” I ramble a bit, my ideas still floating.

“I saw your post this morning while you were in town. I loved the way you teased future blog posts.”

I’m touched by Lorenzo’s attentiveness—for me and for what I love to do. His subtle encouragement with positive feedback has me wishing this was more than a summer fling. Realistically I know that’s what this is, but… I can’t finish this sentence. There are no “buts.” This is temporary.

He is completely opposite from the guy I broke it off with six months ago. He was too into himself and hated when I would disappear for a few pictures or when people in town would stop by and thank me for recommendations or for unmasking local gems.

I guess this job does take a good deal of time, especially since I’m doing it with my limited “free” time. Which begs the question, do I ignore the men I’m with when I get carried away with my excitement? I’ve never had a relationship last longer than about nine months. And they never crash and burn. They always seem to fizzle out into nothingness.

“Thank you.” I shake the wayward thoughts away. I plaster a smile on my face to hide my crazy inner thoughts.

“What happened there?” Lorenzo’s brows pull in as his eyes narrow.

“Where?” I try and deflect as my cheeks burn in embarrassment, even if he has no idea what I was thinking.

“Really. You aren’t going to sit there and tell me your mind wasn’t someplace else.”

“Uh … yeah … sorry. Pics, posts, ideas are on overdrive. I’m sorry. That seems to be my MO, and then people get tired and walk away because I get too engrossed.” It all spills out of my mouth with no filter. Why? Why would those words escape?

“They don’t understand your passion then,” he quickly responds, then adds, “I have to check on the kitchen, but I would like to see you tonight. Do you have plans?”

“No plans. I’m playing my time here by ear.”

“Wonderful. Be ready by eightish. I just need to get the kitchen settled. I want to take you out on the town.” His brows rise, waiting for me to confirm.

“Got it.” My heart knocks against my ribcage.

He stands then bends, grabbing my chin in his hand and bringing my face up to look at him. He places a quick kiss on my forehead before winking. “Laters.” I watch him walk away. Did he really say “laters”? Someone has either being reading romance novels or watching them on the big screen. I tuck that away to ask about later.

I love being alonewith my camera when I’m not rushing and don’t have to be anywhere in particular. I run into a couple of the influencers on their way out, but quick greetings and waves saved me from having to interact with them.

I saw Brenda from a distance strutting around in a microscopic bikini by the pool area. I hate to be petty, but she just grates on every last nerve. Seeing her made my decision to check out the pool another time much easier. The warm summer heat, clear water, and quiet surroundings had been calling to me. Instead, I spend the day walking the property and visiting the tasting room.

Carson let me know earlier I had free rein on the property. He gave me his business card with a note on the back to show any employee who might stop me or question why I was out in the vines. Walking through the rows of vines was amazing, and I hope I captured the essence of how serene it can be.

I am surprised by how busy the tasting room is for a Tuesday afternoon. I didn’t realize people were out and about tasting wines in the early afternoon on weekdays. I sit in a corner with a sparkling water, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible while snapping pictures. Hands on wine glasses, the wine stewards happily explaining the wine notes, the bottles on display—just a few of the pictures I am able to capture.