Her Older Sheikh (Sheikh Breaks My Heart #9)

Him

T he sky is still a slumberous shade of gray when I tiptoe out of the apartment, and I'm careful not to make any noise as I pull the front door shut. Grandpa Paco is an early worm like me, and I want to be sure I'm safe somewhere else before he gets up.

The old man might be the most important person in my life, but I seriously need a break from his matchmaking schemes. I get that he's just concerned about my future, but I'm a die-hard romantic. I want to marry for love, and I won't settle for less.

Rain starts drizzling down as I hop on my bike, and a cool breeze plays with the golden locks of my hair as I pedal down the road. That it's sunny or gloomy never matters to me; there's nothing I love more than being outdoors. I can already feel my worries fading away while I listen to birds chirp and watch morning joggers pick up their pace as they seek shelter from the downpour.

The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore makes me miss home, but I remind myself that Isla de Flores is still way better compared to the rest of Miami. It might be a far cry from the Caribbean island I was born in, but IDF is still a small town at least, and it's cozy enough that I don't feel like I'm trapped within the dirty, crowded confines of a city.

A picturesque B&B with its own in-house cafe eventually catches my eye, and I gratefully slow down just as lightning flashes overhead.

The whole place is like a dream, with its arched windows revealing interior brick walls and copper-wired crystal bulbs hanging from tall, exposed ceilings. There are also flowers everywhere : vases of fresh blooms adorn whitewashed tabletops, vibrant clumps of bougainvillea cascade from multiple balconies, and raised garden beds of lavenders and touch-me-nots welcome guests by the entrance with scented greetings.

I wish I had the time to soak it all in, but since I'm the one currently in danger of being soaked and at risk of contracting pneumonia, I reluctantly turn away and park my bike in a hurry.

The words Mariposa House are carved on its heavy wooden doors, and my teeth start to chatter as soon as I step in. They obviously have the A/C on, and I quickly look around to look for some private place to dry myself.

Show yourself, toilet—-oh!

I catch a glimpse of a man seated at a corner table by the windows, and the rest of the world simply vanishes.

Is this what you call love at first sight?

His short raven-black curls are all tousled while the bronze muscles of his arms seem a flex away from bursting out of the thin sleeves of his shirt. He's so, so beautiful it's as if his every feature has been sculpted by angels, and I love it even more that his gaze is fully focused on the book that he's reading.

Am I dreaming, self?

It's just so rare to see a man enjoying an actual book in public these days, and a hot one at that. I look around to see if there could be another woman walking back to join him, but all I see is a guy texting behind the cash registrar.

If he really is alone, would it be safe for me to assume that he's also single? Can I just call him Mr. Mine from now on, and—- oh!

Have I made some kind of noise without being aware of it, and that's why Mr. Mine is suddenly staring at me?

I don't think I have, and I don't think I'm dreaming either.

He's really staring at me, and just when I start thinking it might be the same for him, and Mr. Mine has also fallen in love with me, that's the moment I see his gaze lower to my chest...and stay at my chest.

Oh gosh.

Does this mean Mr. Mine is quite the perv?

This should probably make me mad, but then I remember that I actually don't have any chest to speak of, and another gasp breaks out of my throat as soon as my glance drifts down to my body.

Oh my God, self!

Rain has turned my striped top semi-translucent, and I realize it's made me seem like I've been flaunting my boobs at Mr. Mine for the past thirty seconds.

I hurriedly cross my arms over my chest when Mr. Mine rises to his feet, but instead of walking towards me as I hoped feared, he disappears into a door behind the counter, and I immediately have this urge to knock my head against the wall.

You are such a fool, self!

I can't believe I almost convinced myself that someone like Mr. Mine has fallen head over heels for me at first sight. I used to think having oodles of 2D boyfriends is enough to give me a Ph.D on love, but that obviously isn't the case, and I now have my first lesson in real-life romance.

Just because the world stopped turning for you...doesn't mean the world also stopped turning for him.

Got that, self?

I fidget on my feet as my newfound knowledge on unrequited love makes me consider leaving. What's the point of prolonging my torment when he obviously doesn't find me attrac—-

"Holy whack-a-moley!"

Mr. Mine is apparently a ninja in disguise, with him suddenly standing in front of me.

"Apologies."

His voice is deep but soft, and is that an accent I'm hearing? I'm not quite sure if I'm right, but what I'm certain of is how the sound of his voice has my boobs swelling against the still-wet cups of my bra.

"I'm sorry, too," I say sheepishly. "I know I have the weirdest expressions—-"

Mr. Mine gently cuts me off. "I thought you might want this." He hands over a package wrapped in plastic, and I blink in surprise when I realize it's this brand new set of uniform, and it's exactly the same with what the guy behind the cash registrar is wearing.

How did he get a hold of this?

Does it mean he works here, too, or does he own the whole place?

To put it very simply, all I want to know is if the cafe is the best place to see him again, but before I can say even one word, Mr. Mine is already nodding at a door behind me—-

"The ladies' is that way."

His tone is polite but firm, and it's daunting enough that all I can do is nod meekly in mute thanks before turning away.

You are such a shameful coward, self!

I'm usually this really upbeat person, and my friends back home have even taken to calling me Mad Maddy over the years because I can be so crazy positive even at the worst of times. I've never found myself tongue-tied or intimidated...until now.

Until him.

And surely...surely that can only mean what I'm feeling is real, and I am truly in love with Mr. Mine?

Uh...no?

That's my inner voice of reason groaning at such logic, and if Grandpa Paco were to know what thoughts are currently running through my mind, I'm pretty sure it will have him marry me off to one of his friends' sons or godsons or whatever other kind of son there is, and he won't even care if I'm screaming and kicking while he drags me down the aisle.

Oh, what to do, what to think, what to feel?

I can only sigh as I get out of my wet clothes, and I sigh again when I catch my reflection on the full-length mirror.

I'm being a fool, aren't I, self?

Even if I can prove that what I feel for Mr. Mine is real, what would be the point when he doesn't seem to find me attractive at all? He's seen me almost naked, and instead of making him want to kiss me, what he did instead was swiftly look for something I can change into.

It's almost like he can't stand the sight of me naked, and um... ouch?

My gaze swings back to my reflection, and all I can do is grimace.

So my boobs are rather small, fine. But just like the size of a man's package isn't supposed to matter, then shouldn't the same apply when it comes to a woman's boobs? And besides—-

Have you forgotten, Maddy San Jose?

When I was young, one of Nanny Rosa's favorite bedtime stories to tell was how Mama and Papa fell in love, and how Mama, even though she was not the prettiest girl in the island, had won Papa over because of the beauty of her heart.

Character over looks, duh!

All I need is to be patient and strategic. He might not find me physically attractive at the moment, but one thing I'm always confident about is my ability to make people like me. I take after Mama that way, and I just know that once we start talking, Mr. Mine is sure to fall for me like Papa fell for Mama, and sexual attraction will naturally follow.

So keep thinking positive, self!

I leave the ladies' with a renewed swing in my step, but when I search for Mr. Mine, the cafe is completely empty, and my heart breaks when I realize he's well and truly gone.

Grandpa Paco says that true love like what my parents had is rare, and that his own six marriages and subsequent divorces are proof of this. He also says that all the stars in the sky were aligned for my parents, and even though it might seem like I can't say the same for Mr. Mine and me—-

This can't be the end, self.

It can't be.

God wouldn't let me meet Mr. Mine if he's not my destiny, and I refuse to believe anything else.

There has to be something here to give me hope, just something or anything—-

Aha!

Is that Mr. Mine's book I'm seeing?

Could he have left it deliberately, maybe with his name or number or Instagram handle or whatever it is he wants me to use to contact him?

I trip over my own feet in my haste to get to my table, and the guy standing behind the cash registrar looks at me like I've lost my mind when I reach for the book like it's the Holy Grail.

But rather...it's just a leather-bound copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

Okaaaay.

Is this supposed to be a subliminal message for something? Am I suppose to infer that winning Mr. Mine's heart is a far more serious battle? Or is this the universe's way of telling me the stars are anything but aligned for me and Mr. Mine?

No matter.

I can always realign them myself, and with this persevering thought in mind, I flip the book open, and a boldly scrawled message on the title page immediately catches my eye.

Try not to be wet the next time I see you.