| |
"If I eat one more thing, I will disgrace myself." Katherine stared blankly at the multiple trays of colorful, deliciously scented dishes and platters of pintxos on the impossibly long bar. The choice of what to eat had been so overwhelming she gave up trying, and tried a bite of everything Santiago put before her. Never in her life, as a self-confessed fussy eater, did she ever see herself taking these kinds of food risks. Yet here she sat, tasting some of the most exotic food in the world, roasted meats, salted cod, and vegetables before she sampled boiled quail eggs with black anchovy and peppers, wood-fired chorizo with pickled carrots, and dishes called Tortilla de Bacalao (salted cod omelet), Porrusalda (potato, leek, salt cod soup) and Marmitako (tuna with potato and pepper stew). It was all so artfully displayed, incredibly delicious, and wonderfully fulfilling.
"You can't really expect me to eat dinner now?" She stared at Santiago, who lounged on the barstool next to her as if he owned the upscale trendy bar they were in.
He lifted the side of his mouth. "Of course I do. Pintxos are just the prelude to dinner. Dinner is a completely different affair. Haven't you learned that already?" He leaned forward and gathered a plateful of grilled red peppers stuffed with some kind of salsa, surrounded by skewers of shaved meat, olives, and hot peppers.
"What is this?" She forked some of the salsa from the pepper.
"Octopus." Santiago took a bite and held the rest of the pepper toward her lips. "Try it."
Her eyes widened, but she took a bite anyway. "Wow," she chewed, savoring the strange taste. "Mmmmm. Who'd have thought this was octopus?" She swallowed as Santiago nodded in approval. The bartender immediately held up a bottle of cider over his head and poured into her glass, a customary fancy method she noted all the bartenders did before they served the glasses of sparkling sweet nectar.
Katherine accepted her refreshed glass as she glanced around the crowded bar. Maybe Santiago did own this popular place. The Ibarras, she learned this afternoon, unquestionably owned or had a history with practically every business in Donostia so far. All of the local shops they visited after talking with the old men in town were either family-owned, friends or partners with the Ibarra family for generations. They certainly seemed to be surrounded by friends in here, all of whom swarmed around the long wooden bar, sampling pintxos and drinking cider as if there was no tomorrow.
Also, Katherine noted each of the buildings they came to all had a foundation plaque similar to the one she saw at Santiago's office building. The plaques were mounted beside the doorways and more often than not, dawned a strange, black swirling comma symbol. She didn't know what the symbol meant, but she now realized she saw the design all over the place.
"What is that comma symbol I see everywhere?" She watched Santiago stretch to pick up his glass of cider, her eyes glimpsing the bottom of the dark tattoo imprinted on his upper arm. She'd gotten a quick peek at his body art when he emerged from the bathroom before they visited the men in town. Dressed in only a pair of trousers, he was throwing on a loose-fitting shirt as he rounded the corner on the way to meet someone coming up in the loft elevator. Her curiosity piqued at the quick glimpse she'd gotten at the drawing that extended over his shoulder and covered most of his upper arm. She'd never thought him one for having a tattoo but was now desperately curious to see and study it more closely.
Santiago followed her gaze to his arm. "Lauburu?" He lifted the bottom of his shirt sleeve to give her a better look. "It is the symbol of Euskadi. The four regions. Prosperity. Unity of the people."
Her tummy fluttered when he flexed his arm muscle to make the symbols move. "Has anyone ever mistaken it for a swastika?"
He sighed heavily and hung his head. "Not you too." He gave her an exasperated half-smile. "Sadly, many times it has been mistaken for the Nazis, though, strangely enough never by the Celts."
She blinked at him in confusion. "The Celts? Why not?"
"The Celts have an older ancient similar symbol that represents their healers, so they never make the mistake of thinking Lauburu is of the Nazis. However, for us, Lauburu is a matter of pride. Watch—" He stood from the stool, shoved up his sleeve with one hand, his glass of cider in the other and roared. "Euskadi!"
Katherine's eyes widened as the people around them roared back and the bartender set down yet another bottle of cider before them.
Santiago sat back down on his stool. The look on his face pride personified. Katherine marveled at this other new side of the prism that was him. Deeply proud and very serious, he was a family man without a family. "Why aren't you married?" She suddenly asked.
He stopped in the motion of drinking his cider. "Are you offering?"
Heat flooded her face. "No, I just ... well." She picked up her own glass and drank. "You just seem like a married man with a half dozen children type."
"I am." He refilled her glass. "But I will have at least a full dozen children." He held her eyes for a long moment. "My wife will bear me a houseful of babies."
"I won't have children." She twisted her mouth and looked up at the chalkboard list of pintxos above the bar. "My ex soured me on the subject."
Santiago threaded his fingers through hers. "Why do you give this man so much power over your life. I can easily see you pregnant."
She rolled her eyes. "Barefoot and pregnant, forever in the kitchen? How archaic of you."
He lifted her hand to his mouth. "Archaic? I am nothing if not progressive." He kissed her fingers. "I would permit you to wear shoes." He smiled over their hands. "And the Donna and cook do all the cooking in my home so no need for you to be in the kitchen. Forever in my bed is where I would have you."
Katherine could only stare as he grinned and kissed her fingers again. Clearly, he was teasing her. "You've had too much to drink." Her eyes flicked to his empty glass of cider. "And what I meant was that my ex soured me on the whole family thing. I used to think kids and a white picket fence was the way to go until . . . " her voice trailed off. "Until I didn't anymore."
"Hmmm. There is another story there." Santiago frowned. "One I wish to hear."
"Trust me, you don’t. It'll make your ears bleed." She slid her fingers through his and picked up her cider glass.
Santiago watched her for another long moment. "Tomorrow, we will visit the university."
"The university?" She drank and then put down her glass.
"Yes." He leaned over to the new bottle of cider. "I would like you to meet my old professor."
"Your professor?" She turned on the stool and looked at him. "You went to university?"
He chuckled. "Yes, of course. Here and in Canada. Did you think it was only Malik that received an education?"
"No," she felt the heat rise in her face again. "I just . . . what did you study?"
"Many things. But this professor was my cultural history teacher."
"Of course." Cultural history would be his favourite subject. "What else did you study?"
"Business." He shrugged. "My parents insisted on an MBA. After I appeased them, I obtained my doctorate in green technology."
Katherine set down her glass. "You've completed a doctorate?"
"I think I am insulted at your surprise."
"In green tech?" She blinked, ignoring the look of indignation on his face. "Then where did you learn to wield a gun and be all Mr. Badass security guy?"
"You think I am a badass?"
She rolled her eyes at the overly pleased look on his face.
"In the military. Spanish Armed Forces to be specific."
Katherine sat back on her stool. "Well, you're just a treasure trove of surprises, aren't you?"
"I think I like these things. I am a badass. A treasure trove." He lifted an eyebrow. "What else am I?"
"Ugh." Katherine shook her head. "Impossible. You're impossible."
Santiago held out a plate of stuffed sea urchin to her in one hand, sheep cheese cubes covered in walnut pieces in the other. "It is time for dessert." He put down the urchin plate and lifted a tray of golden jelly squares to her. "Put one of these on top of the cheese."
She groaned, half in dread, half in delight as she lifted the jelly-topped cheese square to her mouth. Her eyes involuntarily closed as a melody of superb flavors burst over her tongue. "My God, that's delicious."
Complete appreciation settled over Santiago's face. "One day, my Katrin, I will cook for a whole day, exclusively for you."
"And you can cook," she deliberately kept the surprise from her voice as she slid another one of the cubes into her mouth.
"Naturally," he enjoyed one of the desserts. "I learned like any other Basque man. From my mother and the men in my club."
"Your club?" She looked around the bar. The place was filling up, and without many people leaving to go onto other pintxos bars, the noise level to space grew in disproportion. Around them was standing room only, with two sometimes three, people sandwiched between the few available bar stools. People started to squeeze between them, talking and laughing and indulging in the food before they swept off to the other end of the bar.
"Yes." Santiago moved his stool closer so no one could come between them. "All the men here belong to one men's club or another. It is tradition."
"Do I even need to ask what you men do in these clubs?"
"Men things," he leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"Oh please." She slid her eyes to his. "Men things? What kind of men things?"
He kissed her long and hard. "In truth, we cook and sing, argue, and play cards." He ran his hand along her jaw then reached for another cheese dessert. "There is nothing sexier to us than a woman who enjoys our food. So, eat."
She stared at the dessert. The year before her wedding extended out before her: hot yoga, spinning class and existing on a gerbil's diet. She'd worked so hard to get thin enough to squeeze herself into a dress she wore for less than half a day, all to make Jon happy. "These are delicious." She took a bite of the piece in Santiago's hand.
He put the rest in his mouth and kissed her again. "My God, I want you. The feeling never stops, just grows and grows. You must let me have you."
Even though he spoke very low, and the talk and laughter surrounding them were boisterous, his rough words went straight to her womanhood. Tingles and liquid heat pooled in her lower body as she kissed him back. It was still unfathomable that this man wanted her. Her, the awkward bookworm and childcare researcher that couldn't hold the interest of her fiancé long enough to even get to their wedding night.
Santiago kept his eyes on hers as he motioned for the bartender. The man was busy but nodded to Santiago, which meant he'd be over with the bill in the next half hour. No one in this country was ever in a hurry to do anything. The law of the farm ruled. All things done in time and time took care of everything.
Santiago sat back on his stool. "Eat, Katrin. Enjoy whatever you like before we go to the next bar."
She sighed, her body missing the warm slices of heat and delicious prickles that kissing him brought to her senses. A new waiter appeared and set down a fresh platter of kebobs before them.
"You must try these before we leave." The enticing aromas of grilled potato and lamb wafted to her nose. She blinked at the light and fluffy tortilla at the end of the stick Santiago held to her. Eating another thing was out of the question, but she knew he'd hold it there until she succumbed to the temptation. "Haute cuisine on a stick," she murmured before taking a bite.
Santiago chuckled before he slid the other half into his mouth. "I am in love with the way you see my country. I will never forget the unique way you see our country." He ran his finger down her neck to the base of her throat before he pulled her in for another kiss.
"I see, Xanti is still playing master of Donostia."
Katherine looked up in time to see a man, lean over her and pick up one of the pintxos from the tray. He pulled off the food with his mouth, puckered his thick lips into a kiss before he tossed the toothpick that held the pieces together onto the floor. Everyone in the dozens of pintxos bars in Donostia did the same as he did as tribute to the better plates of food in the bar. The more toothpicks on the bar floor, the better the food. This bar's floor was covered in the little sticks, but the man who hovered above her somehow cheapened the show of respect and made it look distasteful.
"Azarola." Santiago ground out the name like a curse, descending the light and jovial air around them into sharp tension.
Katherine stared up at the other man, his face like a flattened bulldog. He was equal in height to Santiago but twice the bulk and lacking the refined grace Santiago's body had. The two men were probably the same age, but Azarola's lined and weathered skin aged his features to appear much older.
"Xavier Azarola." The dark man's graveled tone went over her head, though his eyes stayed fixed down on her. "You must be the mysterious Katrin we have all heard so much about."
She blinked at his dull gray eyes, focused as a shark's and locked onto hers. Shaking off the slimed feeling, she remembered her manners and moved to stand so she could take the meaty hand he offered. Santiago's palm fell onto her shoulder, not allowing her to move, the hand she started to reach out with remained awkwardly in the air.
Xavier Azarola took it anyway and kissed it, overwhelming her nostrils with his musky cologne and the faint smell of sweat. "Every rumored story is true. You are most beautiful." He studied her face for a long uncomfortable moment. "And Basque. Very nicely Basque."
"Um ... thank you?" She looked at Santiago, not sure what else to say.
Santiago stood, twining her fingers through his as he did, the tension that rolled off of him reminiscent of the first days when she had met him. His entire aura forced out the message—back off, you are not wanted here. "Why are you hear, Azarola? I thought you were in America."
Katherine's scalp prickled as she looked between the men, their eyes no longer on her but fixed on each other's over her head. She slowly stood, feeling ridiculous, half-hidden, and seated behind Santiago's body.
"You hoped, you mean," Azarola guffawed, his eyes roving over her before he reached for another pintxos. "Leaving the way clear for you to steal the next round of Middle Eastern contracts? Do not think I have not heard about them, or your family's bold move to steal them from mine."
"Steal?" Santiago barked out and lifted a brow. "An interesting accusation coming from you."
Azarola's eyes narrowed and the tension level shot up to the bar's roof. Katherine glanced around at the crowd then back at the two men. Azarola smirked before he reached past Katherine and tugged at a woman behind her. "Elle." He snapped his fingers beside her ear.
The woman turned in one fluid motion, completely unconcerned with being snapped at, her mass of blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders and into her face.
"May I present Katrin Alesander-Casey."
Katherine stared as Azarola yanked the slim woman to his side. "Katrin. Elle."
"Oh thank God, another American!" Elle's crystal blue eyes widened before they swept down the length of Katherine's body. She put her hands on Katherine's shoulders and squealed. "Home, home, home!" She leaned in and air-kissed Katherine's cheeks. "I never know what to do in this country. Kiss, hug, hump the closest hottie, what? This country is so full of them, right?"
Katherine stared, dumbfounded. "I'm not American. I'm Canadian."
"Whatever. Close enough!" Elle swung her unmistakably professionally done hair out of her face, and las if trained, the mass fell perfectly into place around her shoulders and down her back.
Katherine resisted the urge to look down at her short flouncy skirt and matching loose tank top in comparison to Elle's skin-tight mini-dress and three-inch heels. Nothing was out of place on the woman's faultlessly proportioned body.
"Elle is an American supermodel, and like you, it is her first visit to Basque Country." Azarola ran a hand down Elle's back then spread his fingers around her slim waist. He lifted the side of his mouth at Santiago. "And of course, Elle, you remember Santiago."
Elle paused, her fingers on Katherine's shoulder flinching slightly before she blinked her voluminous fake eyelashes. "Sure I remember him." She straightened slowly and gave a twisted pouty smile. "Even though it's been a while."
Katherine watched all the muscles tighten in Santiago's jaw.
"And I know just how to greet him." Elle leaned forward and Katherine wasn't sure if the other woman was going to kiss him or slap him in the face.
Elle leaned in and kissed Santiago's cheeks long and slowly, though Katherine did not miss the quick nip of the woman's teeth to his ear.
"Free advice?" Elle took Katherine's arm and turned them both toward the bar. "Enjoy every orgasm he gives you tonight because that one gets gone by sunrise." She motioned to the bartender, then nudged Katherine's shoulder with her own. "But he sure can rock the multiples, right?" She gave a quick wink then smiled broadly at the bartender. "What passes for champagne around here?"
Katherine parted her lips to respond, but words completely failed her.
"Can you believe all this food? My gawd, I'm gonna bust a zipper." Elle shook her ass on the bar stool.
Katherine's mind painfully flashed back to Marie-Claire, the grad student Jon had bent over the dressing room sink, having animalistic sex with on their wedding day. It had been over two years, yet Katherine's mind dredged up the base scene like it had happened yesterday. Jon, her supposedly loving fiancé with his pants down around his ankles, his naked bottom tensing and clenching as he moved inside of the moaning Marie-Claire. The sound of his grunts and her delighted squeals still rung in Katherine's ears.
"Pull out, Baby! Don't knock me up again!"
Katherine had been so stunned when she walked into the supposed vacant dressing room, her entire body jerked still. No one was supposed to be in here. Not even her, and definitely not them. She had just stood there, staring like a complete idiot as her new husband reared back and out of Marie-Claire's body with his penis in his hand.
"That bloody heifer up there wants these baby-makers tonight but no way. They're all for you, my dirty girl."
Katherine stumbled into the door on her left and threw up, stupidly trying to avoid getting any vomit on her voluminous satin and lace wedding dress. When she straightened, fully convinced she was just having a nightmare, Jon stood behind her, a horrified look on his face, pants still around his ankles, his deflated penis still in hand. She threw up all over him then ran out. At that moment, it finally hit her why Jon was never genuinely interested in making love to her; why he had all the weight and appearance conditions. He wanted her to look like all the other young co-eds on campus.
Katherine looked at Elle, draped at the bar, her perfectly young image so much like Marie-Claire. All the muscles in Katherine's throat contracted and she couldn't breathe. She stared frantically at the crush of people, the vision of Jon and Marie Claire warped in front of her. She looked at Santiago, his face taking the place of Jon's as he grunted over Marie-Claire. Katherine grabbed her pounding windpipe and bolted through the crowd.
*****
