She thought about calling but decided it was best if she spoke with him face to face. Maybe even apologize for her attitude that day. She’d been so frustrated from all the rejections everywhere else that she let it out on him.
The restaurant was not surprisingly busy when she arrived. She’d heard so much about it over the years but she’d never had the pleasure of eating there herself. The hostess, who obviously didn’t recognize her from the day of the interview motioned for her to give her a second. She was busy getting a large group to their table.
Grace glanced around, looking for Sal. The restaurant was amazing. She was so riled up the day of the interview, she’d hardly had time to take it all in. The dramatic arches and all the artwork that adorned the walls reminded her so much of Mexico. It was genuinely true to the culture, unlike some of the cheesier restaurants she’d been to. The decoration was tasteful and not overdone.
As she wandered through one of the archways into the main dining area, she was drawn to one of the painted murals on the brick wall—an older Mexican woman making handmade tortillas. Immediately it brought a lump to her throat. She missed her grandmother terribly. Grace tried to shake off the overwhelming emotion. She hadn’t allowed herself to become emotional over her grandmother or her father’s deaths in years, and this was definitely not the time or place.
The sudden dread of not being able to hold it together, made her spin around and head back to the door. In her haste, she didn’t even see the waiter behind her and collided with him.
“Whoa, sorry are you okay?” He pulled the tray he was holding away from her, so he wouldn’t spill anything on her.
“I’m so sorry.” She felt like a fool. “I didn’t—”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” The waiter looked over her shoulder and smirked. “You just had to be watching didn’t you?”
Grace turned to see who he was talking to. A guy who looked just like Sal, only with twice the brawn, was trying not to smile. The undeniable Moreno dimples she’d heard so much about gave him away. He had to be one of the other brothers. Well, the girls had certainly been right about the looks running in this family. So far, the first two brothers she’d met had fit the gushing descriptions right on.
Maybe she’d have better luck with this brother. As big and daunting as he looked, seeing him have a good time with the waiter, already gave her hope that he wouldn’t be as uptight as Sal.
“You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” he asked as he approached her.
“I’m fine,” she smiled, even though she wasn’t sure she liked the term of endearment. “It was my fault actually.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Here at Moreno’s, the customer is always right. I apologize for my klutzy waiter.”
The waiter rolled his eyes. “I already apologized.”
“It’s okay, really. I’m not even a customer.”
With an eyebrow raised, he held out his hand. “Okay, I’m Alex.” She shook his hand. “I run the restaurant. What can I do for you?”
The waiter she’d nearly knocked over nodded at her before walking away in a hurry. She glanced at him, then back at Alex. “I uh, was here the other day for an interview.” Her stomach churned. “Sal, I believe he’s your brother?”
Alex nodded but said nothing.
“He said there were immediate openings for bartenders. I’m certified and have a few years experience. He said he’d call me after he talked to you. I was just wondering if… ”
Alex’s lips curved into a slow smile. “Yeah, he mentioned something like that. Is it okay if we talk over here?” He motioned toward the bar area.
She nodded and followed him through the busy restaurant. Alex turned back as he walked. “What was your name again?”
“Graciela,” she said quickly then added, “Zendejas. Graciela Zendejas.”
He smiled even bigger. “Yeah, you’re the one.”
“What does that mean?” She tried not to sound as defensive as she felt.
“You’re the one he mentioned,” he said taking a seat at the bar.
Humor danced in Alex’s eyes, making Grace wonder just what the hell Sal had mentioned. She crossed her arms in front of her, feeling her cheeks warm.
Alex didn’t seem fazed at all by her glaring eyes. Instead he smirked leaning an elbow on the bar. “Tell me something. How does someone who just turned twenty-one, have any experience in bartending?”
Grace didn’t flinch. With her arms still tightly wound in front of her, she shifted her weight and responded. “I used to live in El Paso. The bartending age in Texas is eighteen.” She lifted her chin, trying not to think about the fact that they caught the age difference. “I’ve also done a lot of bartending over the border in Mexico.”
For once, he stopped smirking and she seemed to have his attention. “So you really know how to bartend?”
“Yes.” Grace felt an ounce of hope creep in.
“Can you make Mojitos?”
She almost laughed. “I’ve been making them since I was a kid.”
He stood up off the stool. “You’re kidding?”
“No.” Her eyes followed him as he walked around the bar. “I can make anything you want me to.”
“C’mere.” He pulled out a few glasses out from the cabinet.
She did as he asked and walked around the bar.