Norteño Nights

Book summary

Attorney Janelle Richards moves to the Texas/Mexico border for a fresh start, only to clash with her boss's nephew, Javier Mercado. As circumstances force them to work together, hostility turns to passion. However, both must confront their pasts to find true love. NORTEÑO NIGHTS is a romance that explores cultural differences and emotional healing.

Excerpt from Norteño Nights

McAllen, Texas

The aroma of masa, grilled meat, and cilantro made Janelle’s mouth water. She leaned hard on the wall of the breakroom and looked at the huge spread nearly collapsing the table. It looked just as appealing as it smelled. If the smiles on the faces of the men and women seated around the table were any indication, she was missing out on a feast of epic deliciousness.

She scooped some salsa from a colorful paper plate onto a chip and stuffed it in her mouth. Tried to appreciate the crunch, the burn of chilis. It seemed like such a pale, sad option compared to what was in front of her.

The break room door swung open, setting the multicolored paper banner waving. A tall, slender male figure—Javier Mercado the owner’s nephew and chief of operations—strode in.

Oh, brother. Here we go. Janelle edged toward the door. Looks like break time is over, at least for me.

“Where are you going?”

Please don’t. Janelle pasted on a false but sunny smile. “Gotta get back to work. Lots of papers to file this month.”

“Don’t rush away! It’s a Cinco de Mayo. Why not take a moment to celebrate?”

A hot breath rushed from Janelle’s lungs. “I’m good. I’ve had my fill.”

He snorted, drawing her attention up from the vicinity of the open button at the top of his pale blue shirt, where a small puff of dark hair crowned the tiny V at the juncture of his collarbones. Equally dark scruff adorned sculpted cheeks and framed a set of full lips. She dragged her gaze up to his eyes reluctantly, saw the pinching of the crow’s feet in the corners, the intensity of the blacker-than-black glare. “Had your fill…”

Damn. That is not concern for my well-being.

“…of jarred salsa and bagged chips? When all this is available to you?”

She stepped toward the door. “I wasn’t very hungry.”

He moved to block her escape. “Not hungry? The smell of this carne guisada should be enough to make your mouth water. He gestured to the table at their periphery where a crock pot of fragrant stew waited, a ladle lying across the opening.

Stew, no doubt thickened with flour and clearly meant to be served with the pillowy, homemade flour tortillas on a plate beside them. Janelle’s stomach cramped. Even the grilled meat in the aluminum baking dish wasn’t safe from the risk of cross-contamination.

“Or if that’s too intimidating for a güera like you, what about some simple queso dip?” He gestured again, just as one of the floor workers—a motherly-looking woman named Rosa—scooped out a spoonful. The cheese strung appealingly between the dish and the spoon.

Janelle fought to swallow a gag. “I’m sure it’s all delicious, but I have to go.”

No longer comfortable, she dropped her plate in the trash, ducked around Javier, and hurried out of the main building of the Verduras Mercado vegetable and citrus packing facility. She crossed a massive gravel parking lot toward the small modular home the company had purchased to house its offices.

Outside, away from the smells of foods she could not eat—and the compelling yet terrifying visage of Javier Mercado—Janelle took a deep breath and released it. The unique aroma of South Texas radiated through her. Back home, May would be the month of flowers—the scents of pine, roses, and fresh-cut grass waking to vibrant life. Here, the flower season was waning as the summer heat engulfed the region. She could smell dust, hot pavement, and a whiff of vegetable rot that always hung over the facility. It wasn’t a horrible smell, just a reminder of business going on.

Why can’t he leave me alone? If it weren’t for Javier and his grudge, I’d love it here.

Which she hadn’t expected when she’d run in disgrace.

Of course, there had to be some kind of imperfection. This was not a gift from the universe. Just a job. A good job but nothing miraculous. Still, dealing with an angry, judgmental man who seemed to take her presence very badly felt too much like where she’d come from.

She inhaled deeply again. It never pays to venture too far from the office. Javier doesn't heckle me where his uncle might hear it.

The sun—high overhead in its noon position—glared down at her like an angry eye, prickling her skin and drawing sweat to the surface. She hurried across the open loading area toward her safe little office next to the boss, feeling like a kid who chose the seat next to the teacher to avoid bullies. The tactic didn’t work for kids, but she would try it anyway.

A heavy hand, rough with callouses, closed around her bare upper arm and forced her to turn.

“What do you want?” She yanked but could not dislodge the grip, and his fingers dug into her skin.

“You’re insulting the hard work these women have put in. Are you so stuck-up that you can’t even take a taste of non-Anglo food? Come on. This should be manageable even for a güera like you.” He shoved... something... into her face. Janelle recoiled at the smell of cheese even before the flour tortilla flashed in her vision.

Reacting without thought, she slapped the quesadilla away. It flopped limply into the dirt. Heart pounding, she dropped her voice to its lowest, most serious pitch, the one she used in the courtroom. “You need to let go of me right now.”

“What is wrong with you, mujer?” His hand dropped to his side.

“Ask yourself that, Mister Mercado. Do I need to get your uncle involved? He won’t like you bothering me. I seem to recall him telling you to leave me alone two months ago. I get it. You don’t like me. That’s fine. Just leave me be. This is harassment.”

He sighed. “Why is it such a big deal for you to be part of the team? Just because you’re a lawyer, doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else.”

“I never said I was.” The sun scorched Janelle’s skin. She could feel her cheeks and shoulders starting to burn. “I never thought that. Why are you so insistent on making me guilty of what your imagination has conjured up?”

“Oh, come on. You’re not from here and you stick out. If you want to fit in, you need to try to understand the culture. Food is the easiest way, but you won’t take a bite. Not even of something totally not spicy.”

Janelle took another step toward the office building. He reached out again, but she dodged him and grabbed the doorknob. “Don’t touch me. For your information—not that I have any obligation to disclose it to you—it’s not spice that’s the issue. I can and do eat spicy foods all the time. It’s a... a sensitivity I have to certain ingredients. In other words, I have a medical condition.” She stepped through the door into a wave of icy cold air conditioning that slapped against her sweaty skin. She hurried into her office, in what must have been intended as a nursery, as it was small and next to the boss’s office in the intended master bedroom.

Saul Mercado, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found. Right. Because he’s off at a meeting with the owners of the new grocery store chain. And of course, since there was no one to protect her, Javier followed her right in, eager to continue the interrogation.

“What do you mean medical condition?”

Janelle grabbed a sweater from the back of her chair and stuffed her arms into it. While the outdoors was certainly too hot at this time of the year, the indoors grew increasingly too cold as men in suits controlled the thermostat. “Why do you need to know that?”

“I’m looking out for my employees. If they don’t feel comfortable, they won’t stay. We have some of the best workers in the region, and I don’t want that to change because some stuck-up güera thinks she’s too good for them.”

Janelle whirled, eyes flashing, and glared. “What right do you have to say such things? I am the one who feels uncomfortable, and it’s not because of them. If you don’t want me working here, take it up with your uncle, but don’t accuse me of your made-up crimes. I love these workers and I’m doing my best to be sure they’re safe and legally represented. If I can’t eat a few foods, what does that have to do with how I do my job?”

She stood tall, lifting her chin and staring into his angry eyes. He said nothing.

“Maybe the bias you’re seeing is yours, not mine.”

Fire flared. “Bullshit. You’re the foreigner here. You probably don’t even know what we’re celebrating today.”

Janelle took a deep breath, scented with the orange blossom diffuser she’d plugged into the wall. “Cinco de Mayo celebrates the victory of Mexico over French invaders in 1862. It is not Mexican Independence Day, which is celebrated in September, but it is a fun and beloved cultural event.”

He pursed his lips.

“Did you think,” she demanded as she sank into her office chair, “that I would move to a place so far from where I grew up without doing a bit of research? I want a good life here. That means getting to know local customs.”

“And yet you won’t taste one bite of the food.”

Janelle sighed, shoulders sagging. “Stop harping on that. I can’t eat it, okay? It will make me sick.”

“Convenient.”

Her head fell back. “I’ve had about enough of your baseless accusations, Mister Mercado. I would love to try all these things, and I promise it’s not the cilantro or the chilis or even the organ meats I’m afraid of. If I eat gluten or dairy in any form, I will be sick for hours. Trust me, you don’t want to see what it does to me. It has nothing to do with culture. I can’t eat most of the cheesy, bread-based comfort foods up north either.”

A knock at the door jerked Janelle’s attention away from the man in front of her to a plump and pretty dark-haired woman.

Lowering her voice, Janelle hissed, “Now, since you’ve thoroughly invaded my privacy and ruined my enjoyment of the celebration as you once again try to make me guilty of your sins, would you please go away and let me do my job?”

Javier blinked and stepped out of the room.

“Won’t you sit down, Vanessa?” she asked in Spanish, punctuated by the sound of Javier’s shoes on the hallway floor tiles. “Tell me how I can help you today.”

A grin creased the woman’s lips. “Señor Mercado is very handsome, isn’t he?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Janelle lied. “What did you need my help with?”