James stepped out of the room and walked down the short hallway to the stairs. He descended slowly, still feeling his wounds.
"Damn," he complained as he came down the stairs. "I think I should have waited for her in the room..."
The ground floor was a modest space, with wooden walls, a floor of worn planks, and an unlit fireplace in one of the corners.
The air still carried the pleasant aroma of freshly cooked food, and beside a wooden table stood Rosalía.
She was serving food onto a couple of plates with her head anywhere but on what she was doing.
And beside her was a bottle of alcohol she was drinking long swigs from directly every now and then, almost as if she were drinking water.
"You need to calm down..." he heard her murmur to herself before tipping the bottle back once more. "You can’t keep looking at him like he’s dessert..."
Seeing her with her back turned, completely distracted, he understood he was unlikely to get a better opportunity than this.
And without thinking twice he positioned himself behind her and slid his arms around Rosalía’s waist.
"Hey there, sweetheart," James murmured against her ear. "Buy me a drink?"
She startled violently, with a jolt that nearly brought the bottle crashing down on James’s head.
"What the—?!"
But the moment she turned around she found James’s face barely a couple of inches from hers.
"Oh, it’s you," she said, somewhere between relieved and annoyed. "You almost gave me a heart attack..."
"Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it."
"I told you very clearly not to come down," she scolded him, taking another swig from the bottle. "You’re supposed to be injured, remember?"
"I know, but... you were taking too long and I got worried," he replied, nuzzling against her shoulder. "I started thinking something had happened to you."
It was a terrible excuse, improvised on the spot, but it was the first thing that came to him.
And yet, Rosalía made no attempt to pull away.
On the contrary, she stayed in his arms and, after hesitating for barely an instant, slowly turned her face to look at him.
When their eyes met, her cheeks finished turning red and she began to lean toward him.
’Turns out I was worried for nothing,’ he thought with amusement.
Just a couple more inches and the mission would be done.
But just as their lips were about to touch...
"Wait a moment..."
Rosalía placed both hands on his chest and pushed him away with a gentle shove that broke the moment entirely.
"What’s wrong?" James asked, confused.
But before either of them could add anything, the front door burst wide open.
"Rosy, I’m back! And I brought some beef!"
A middle-aged woman stood frozen in the doorway, a basket hanging from her arm.
She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and shared the same blue eyes as Rosalía.
"..."
She froze for an instant while her gaze moved slowly from Rosalía to James.
And then, suddenly, an enormous grin spread across the woman’s face.
"Well, would you look at this..." she said, closing the door behind her. "Didn’t take you long to jump the poor boy."
After setting the basket on the table, the woman circled around James, looking him over from head to toe.
"Mom—"
"Though honestly, I can’t blame you," she continued, ignoring Rosalía completely. "Just look at him... he looks like a work of art sculpted by the gods themselves."
"Mom, seriously, it’s not what—"
"Do you have any idea how lucky you are, Rosy?" the woman said, growing more animated. "Men like this don’t just appear out of nowhere."
She paused for a second.
"Well... this one technically did, but you know what I mean."
Rosalía let out a long sigh and, as if she hadn’t heard a single word, chose to completely ignore her mother’s comments.
"You’re really misreading the situation," she said, trying to stay calm. "James and I were just... setting the table for dinner."
The woman swept her eyes around the room until they landed on the table, completely empty.
"Riiiight... setting the table," she said with sarcasm. "How interesting. I could have sworn that normally requires putting out the cutlery before taking off your clothes."
And while they talked, James still couldn’t get over how close he had been.
’I had it...’ he thought, a little frustrated. ’Just one more inch... one damn inch more and it was done.’
While he was still lost in his thoughts, Rosalía’s mother gave him a gentle pat on the back that was enough to bring him back to reality.
"Come with me, handsome," she said, gesturing for him to follow. "I think I still have some of my late husband’s clothes put away. If I remember right, he was about your size, so I’m sure you’ll find something that works."
And while on the inside James was still cursing his bad luck with everything he had, he managed to put on a polite smile.
"I’d really appreciate that, ma’am."
The woman stopped dead and looked at him with obvious surprise.
Then she let out a little laugh and gave him a couple of affectionate pats on the arm.
"Oh, and on top of being handsome you’re a real gentleman."
Both of them began heading up to the second floor, but when they were halfway up the stairs, the woman stopped.
"If I were you I’d hurry, sweetheart," she said, turning to look at her daughter. "Because if you don’t marry him, I just might, and then you’ll have to start calling him daddy."
"Sure, sure, whatever you say, granny," Rosalía replied as she started putting plates on the table.
The woman let out a mocking little laugh and kept going up the stairs alongside James.
When the sound of their footsteps finally disappeared upstairs, Rosalía let out a long sigh.
Then she picked up the bottle of alcohol and downed what was left in one go.
"Damn old witch..."