Chapter 63

But I’d come this far; it didn’t make sense to just sulk by the hidden pool and leave the fruit that was Colin hanging so low Joaquin didn’t even have to stretch to pick him. As if that king’s breakfast hadn’t been a long, sturdy ladder. I buttoned up a light linen shirt with a collar and banged through the gate into the street right at noon. The clanging church bells would be coming from the plaza; following the sound I scampered off to my right, around the bend in the cobblestoned road. I’d never been to this part of Mexico, and I didn’t know what to expect from a small town, but my Spanish was good enough to ask around. Whether it was fancy or no-frills, on the roof of a fine Colonial-era hotel or in some abuela’s front room, I’d find the best restaurant in town, make a reservation, and plan a date that would not only knock Colin’s socks off, but the rest of his clothes right along with ‘em.

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