Making You Mine (The Moreno Brothers 5)

  “Mr. Moreno—”

  “Call me Sal,” he said, without looking up from her résumé. Her icy demeanor was beginning to annoy him.

  “Mr. Moreno,” she continued, ignoring his request. “My grandmother’s restaurant in Juarez was one of the most renowned restaurants for years and she trusted me in the kitchen even when I was ten, because she taught me everything she knew.”

  Sal glanced up at her, noticing how her eyes seemed to have darkened even more. “That’s great, Ms. Zendejas.”

  Knowing it would be inappropriate, not to mention illegal, to ask he emphasized the Ms. and waited for her to correct him. Her expression remained rigid. Though he was certain because of her age, that she was a Ms. and not a Mrs., for some reason he was relieved that she didn’t correct him. Maybe it was because he found her obvious contempt for him somewhat amusing. He wasn’t used to women being put off by him. “It’s just that for head chef, we’re looking for a little more experience than—”

  “Than a lifetime?”

  “Well, Grace—”

  “Graciela.”

  Sal pressed his lips together breathing in through his nostrils and nodded. “I’m sorry, Graciela. Our restaurant is quite renowned in San Diego County—”

  “I’ve heard plenty about your restaurant. I only apply where I’d be proud to work. Moreno’s has an impeccable reputation for serving only the most authentic dishes. I think I would bring my experience as a lifetime chef—”

  “Graciela, you’re only twenty-three. As much as I would love to accept your experience in cooking at your grandmother’s restaurant, as a lifetime of experience, I just can’t justify hiring a culinary student as a head chef.”

  “Give me a chance. I promise I won’t disappoint you, Mr. Moreno.”

  Sal frowned, flipping over to the next page in her résumé. “You have a bartender’s certification?”

  “Yes.” She sat up again with a sharp arch of her brow. “But that’s not what I’m applying for.”

  Sal glanced up at her. She looked so determined—and angry. “Well, I have openings for bartenders. We need them immediately.” He went back to reading her résumé because her dark piercing eyes were beginning to distract him. “You have a lot more experience in that area. I could consider you as a bartender and maybe when things got slow, I could get you in the kitchen to help out.”

  “I could cook something for you; so you can see for yourself.” The detail of her eyes was becoming increasingly distracting. She wore no makeup. He was just beginning to take in the mesmerizing way her lashes draped over them, when her eyes suddenly crossed completely, as if to stare at her nose. She took her glasses off and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “You okay?”

  Her eyebrow lifted again, and she put her glasses back on. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  He shook off the distraction. “Ms. Zendajas, I have no doubt by your passion that you’re a good cook. Unfortunately, we need cooks with working experience in a fast paced environment like—”

  “Have you ever been to Juarez, Mr. Moreno?” She spoke almost through her teeth. Sal wondered if she’d ever looked into interview etiquette. Did she really think her constant interruptions were going to buy her points?

  “Yes, I have, actually.”

  “It doesn’t get more fast paced than that, when it comes to preparing Mexican cuisine, Mr. Moreno.”

  “Can you stop calling me that?” Unlike his brothers, Sal had never been short on patience, but something about her refusing to call him by his first name had begun to get to him.

  Graciela slid out of the booth. Sal hurried to slide out of his side and stood up ready to face off with her.

  “Will you be considering me for the position?”

  “As a head chef? No. But I do need a bartender.”

  If looks could kill, he’d be a stinking corpse. “When can I expect an answer?”

  “Well, I’ll have to discuss it with my brother but I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thank you.” With that, she spun around and walked away.

  Sal tried not to, but he couldn’t help take in her long legs and the behind that swayed just under the soft fabric of her dress. As annoying as she was, he had to admit she’d managed to intrigue him. Aside from her eyes, nothing else really stood out about her looks; in fact he probably wouldn’t have looked twice if he passed her on the street, but in a weird way her spunk had amused him. He sat down to examine her résumé a little further. It didn’t take long to find a small, but significant, inconsistency about her age. He knew it. The disappointment came as a surprise. Strike three.

  CHAPTER 2

  The bus rolled through the picturesque streets of downtown La Jolla and out into the beat up neighborhood of Chula Vista. Grace stared out the window, mentally going over her last interview. She’d thrown the stupid glasses away as soon as she walked out. Wearing them that whole time had been torture. Her headache had just begun to subside.

  She exited the bus two streets before her usual stop. She had to swing by the meat market and pick up a few drumsticks. Chicken soup was on the menu for tonight’s dinner.

  She hurried into the small mom-and-pop market, trying to snap out of the mood she’d fallen into during the interview.

  “Buena’s tardes senorita Zendejas.” Armando, one of the butchers behind the counter, smiled brightly.

  “Buenas tardes.” She didn’t even try to match the smile.

  She pointed at what she wanted and let him know how much. Taking deep frustrated breaths, she grabbed an onion and a few carrots while Armando bagged up her drumsticks.

  The disappointment weighed heavily—another interview gone south before it even started. Grace had seen the way he looked at her before he even knew anything about her. Only that she was way too young, which meant inexperienced. She was so sick of the assumptions.

  So much for younger meaning open minded. The brother she spoke with dismissed her experience as unprofessional. It was infuriating. For him to deem her experience as unprofessional just because it was in her grandmother’s restaurant in Mexico was reprehensible. Where did he think all of his authentic dishes originated anyway? The more she thought about it, the angrier it made her.

  The only thing the girls in her class had been right about was his looks. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes. But even his heavy lashes and perfectly dimpled smile didn’t erase the fact that he’d been just like all the other presumptuous hiring managers. That unattractive quality alone was enough to ugly any man in her head, no matter how good-looking he was on the outside.

  She purchased her items and walked out into the decliner ing sunlight. The damned buses were so undependable. She didn’t bother waiting for one. Instead she hurried along the few blocks to her apartment.

  Ruben, her stepfather, was passed out on the sofa when she walked in. She winced, closing the door as quietly as possible. The keys in her hand jingled as she made her way past him. Damn.

  Ruben shifted on the sofa, grunting. One lazy eyelid lifted. When he saw her, he sat up. “Did you get the job?”

  Grace set her bag of groceries on the small kitchen table and began to pull things out. “I don’t know yet.” She focused on the bag, not wanting to face him. “They’re supposed to get back to me.”

  She wouldn’t mention that morning’s flat out no, in her first interview. The sofa rattled and squeaked, and she knew he was getting up. “Well the rent’s not gonna pay itself. Your mom’s piddly check, from the few hours she puts in at that cafeteria, ain’t cutting it anymore.”

  He came up from behind her and she walked around the table. He had a habit of standing too close to her and it repulsed her. “Well, maybe you should start looking for a job.”

  He cackled. “No way, and give up my unemployment check? Don’t be stupid.”

  “You’re not gonna be able to collect that forever. It’s been almost a year.”

  “Yeah, well when the checks stop coming I’ll start looking.”
He walked around the table in the small kitchen. “In the mean time… ” He paused when he saw her make her way around the table again. She didn’t care if he noticed her obvious disgust for him.

  “What the hell’s your problem?” The smirk on his unshaven swollen face was teasing. “I ain’t gonna bite you.”

  Grace said nothing. She grabbed her purse and headed to her room down the hall. She could still hear his cackles even as she closed the door behind her. The small room she shared with her sister was a complete contrast to the rest of the apartment. While the front room and kitchen were always a cluttered mess, her room was immaculate.

  She couldn’t stand clutter. Though she did her best to try to keep the rest of the apartment as tidy as her room, it was impossible with both Ruben and her mom being slobs.

  A few stray rays of paling sunlight seeped in through the blinds as she walked to the closet. Lately, she’d been checking and double-checking the wooded box tucked up behind her sister’s stuffed animals. In it was all the money she had. Money she’d worked long and hard to earn. She’d sooner trust a stranger than her own step-dad. He’d be out of money soon and just like before he started collecting unemployment, he’d come sniffing around her room.

  Ruben knew she’d been saving up for years to move out. She was this close to moving in with Joey and Taylor. They had an extra room in their apartment and could use the help with the rent. She was more than anxious to, especially since her younger sister Rosie confessed to her that their step-dad had been giving her the creeps. The depraved animal had been sizing up a fifteen-year girl. It was disgusting. Joey had actually offered to let her sister stay with them as well for only Grace’s share of the rent. Then of course, she lost her job.

  Knowing she had no choice but to stick around, Grace had decided they’d tell her mom about her step-dad. She took a deep breath, tTheep brearying to shake off the pain of her mother’s reaction when they’d told her. She dismissed them immediately, calling them both liars and accusing them of hating Ruben to the point they’d make up outlandish accusations. When they tried to argue their case, she tried to make them feel guilty by crying and saying they were ganging up on her.

  This was months ago and both she and Rosie had agreed not to bring it up again. It was pointless. Their mother was intent on keeping Ruben around. At least for now anyway. Her mother hated work of any kind. The only reason she’d taken the job at the school cafeteria was because it was only two hours a day. But Grace knew the minute her mother was able to, she’d quit. Her only chance of that, was if Ruben, or any man would be there to support her. So until she found a replacement for Ruben, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Grace had already threatened to move out just before she lost her job. Now she was forced to suck up her pride and hang around at least until she could afford to not only get her own place but to take Rosie with her. Her mother wouldn’t object to Rosie leaving. She’d never made it a secret that both Grace and Rosie were nothing but a burden to her, especially after their dad died.

  She’d just tucked the box back behind the stuffed animals, when the bedroom door opened. She flung her hands behind her, not wanting whoever it was to see where they had been.

  “What happened with the job?”

  Her mom was done up again. Grace knew she was making every effort to find a replacement for Ruben already. Ruben was husband number four since her dad died. But since Ruben was laid off and showing no promise in finding another job anytime soon, her mother had gone on the lurk. Grace recognized the signs immediately. The sexier clothes, heavier makeup and perfume. Yep, Ruben had one foot out the door already.

  “They said they’ll get back to me.”

  Her mom stepped all the way in and closed the door behind her. “Have you applied as a bartender anywhere?”

  Grace looked away without answering.

  “Graciela, I asked you a question.”

  “Not really.” She pulling a bag out of the closet. “But it’s on my résumé, that I’m certified… ”

  “It damn well better be. I didn’t pay for that bartending course for nothing. Why haven’t you applied? I thought you said as soon as you turned twenty-one, you would?” Her mother crossed her arms. “Your birthday was over a month ago.”

  Grace sat down on her bed and pulled her notebook out of the bag. “The restaurant I applied to today has openings for bartenders. They said they’d call me.”

  Ruben yelled out from the front room. “What’s for dinner?”

  Her mother peered at her. “C’mon, Ms. Chef. Show us what you got.”

  Grace closed her notebook and stood up. Just before opening the door her mother stopped and turned to her. “Just so you know. I quit my job today. I couldn’t stand that damn manager. Things are gonna get really tight around here, so I’d stop being so picky about where you apply if I were you.”

  ~*~

  Friday nights were especially busy lately. The TGIF specials that Moreno’s offered for happy hour brought in enough business to carry over into the late hours. The newly remodeled sports bar area with the state-of-the-art flat screens that also helped. Sal had hoped to get another bartender hired by this weekend. Unfortunately, the only person he’d interviewed that was even remotely qualified was the Zendejas girl.

  Of course, Alex thought Sal was overreacting about her lying on her application. He actually laughed when Sal told him about the other two strikes against her. No matter how trivial Alex thought it was, Sal wasn’t having it. If she was bold enough to lie about her age, no telling what else she’d be willing to lie about. The last thing he needed was to bring someone into the family business with integrity issues.

  Truth was, he’d wasted way too much time already thinking about Ms. Zendejas. He’d actually gone back to read her résumé several more times. He’d even considered calling her and asking straight out why she lied. But something told him not to. It was probably better that he just let it go. At twenty-one, she couldn’t have much experience anyway so what difference would it make?

  Sal sat back and chewed the end of his pen. With that cute little accent and those hypnotic eyes, she’d be more of a distraction than any help. Nope. He threw her résumé back in the desk file. He was done thinking about her.

  “I hope you have some more interviews lined up for today, Sal.” Alex stalked into the back office. “I’m staying tonight to help out at the bar. Luis called in sick again and we were already short.”

  Sal winced. The one day he had to leave early, their best bartender calls in sick. “I got a few interviews lined up today.” He turned to Alex, who was busy tying an apron around his waist. “Two of them are for the cook positions. One actually has some experience.”

  Alex looked up at him with a frown. “What about the other one?”

  Sal shook his head. “Not much, but we’ll see.”

  Oscar, one of their newer waiters, flew in the back and stopped when he saw Sal. “Suit and tie again, Sal?” he smirked. “What are you all dolled up for this time?”

  Sal had gone against his own rules and hired a friend. Oscar had attended college with Sal for a while, until he got a girl pregnant and had to drop out to work full-time. Sal always knew women would be Oscar’s failing. He went through them like the restaurant went through beans and rice.

  There was no way Oscar and this girl would last, even with a baby. Oscar always thought with the wrong head. So, of course, things ended badly between him and the girl. Oscar’s parents said they’d help him out financially, if he went back to school. Having a baby wasn’t cheap, though. He still needed to bring in some more money. That’s when Sal stepped up and offered to let him work at the restaurant part-time.

  “I got a meeting with some investors today.”

  Oscar continued to gawk, amused. “Ah, so that’s what’s up with the power suits these days.”

  “Nah,” Alex added with a smirk. “I think he just likes intimidating potential new hires.”

  Oscar started putting on hi
s apron. “Yep, I was totally intimidated when he interviewed me.”

  Alex chuckled. Sal rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you two comedians be out there already? I thought we were busy.”

  Oscar pretended to crack a whip. “See what I mean?” He grinned at Sal. “I’m getting all intimidated again.”

  Oscar and Alex walked out of the back office but not before adding a few more wisecracks at Sal’s expense.

  By that afternoon, Sal had finally hired a new cook but he wasn’t entirely sure about it. There was one potential bartender but the idiot had forgotten to bring in his certification; otherwise Sal might have had another one ready to hire. He knew Alex was getting desperate for help. The guy’s résumé looked great, but then so had Graciela’s. Sal frowned before dropping the files on the desk in the back.

  He grabbed his cell off the desk and rushed out.

  “Did you hire anyone?” Alex asked, as he rushed by him.

  “We got a cook.” Sal winked, walking backwards. “And maybe a bartender, but he needs to bring in his credentials. I’ll get back as soon as this meeting is over to help out.”

  Alex didn’t exactly look thrilled but the relentless scowl softened. Any business owner would feel giddy about the amount of cars Sal saw waiting to make a left turn into their parking lot. But Sal was beginning to worry about being able to handle the kind of business they were generating.

  The investors he was meeting with today had mentioned the possibility of opening several more restaurants. He was having a hard enough time getting qualified employees for one restaurant; how in the world would he staff several more?