Since we got back to the hotel, I’ve been overthinking every single thing. What I’m wearing, which is only slightly nicer than my everyday uniform of jeans, a T-shirt with a flannel for the early mornings, and a baseball cap. At least I had enough sense to bring a buttoned shirt that isn’t plaid and a clean pair of boots.
Every time the elevator opens, I stand. I got down here ten minutes earlier than the time I gave Alice, so I’ve stood and sat enough times for the guy at the front desk to be watching me pretty closely.
I run my hands through my hair and opt to try to chill the fuck out. It’s still three minutes to seven. Resting my elbows on my knees, I look at the floor and mentally laugh at myself for acting like a teenager going on his first date. When I look up, though, I know I have every reason to feel like this because there she is, in creamy white pants, heeled brown sandals, and a denim jacket. I can only see a sliver of the shirt underneath, which matches the pants. But none of that is important, because the thing that takes all the breath out of my lungs is her hair. It’s full, and curly, and goddamn it, she’s the most beautiful thing with that smile on her face as she walks toward me.
Me. A man so broken and with more faults than she might ever know about. She’s looking at me, and she’s happy.
By the time my brain catches up enough to tell my legs to move, she’s nearly reached me.
“You are so damn beautiful.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can catch them, and her smile grows as that adorable blush of hers covers her cheeks.
“You look pretty nice yourself.” She playfully tugs on the collar of my shirt, and I instinctively step into her.
“No, tesouro. Youarebeautiful. Always.” Her amber eyes meet mine, and like the first time, every part of me feels a little more alive, a little more alert with her attention on me. “And your hair,” I say, looking at the curls framing her face.
“Oh, I forgot my straightener, and one of the horses tried to eat my hair today, so it was sticky and I had to wash it.” She touches a strand self-consciously.
“I think you should always forget your straightener.” As I run my mouth, her eyes go wide. “I mean, or, you know, wear your hair however you want. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. It always looks amazing, anyway, but damn,Alice, these curls…” I puff out my cheeks and blow out a breath in lieu of finishing my sentence. “Not that I don’t like your hair straight, though?—”
“Arthur?” She tucks her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt not to laugh. “Thank you. Can we go get dinner now?”
“Yep. Yeah. Good idea.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, so annoyed with myself for acting like this, and Alice giggles. I will gladly make a fool of myself all day, every day to hear that.
We chat about the day, since we spent so much of it apart, and she lights up talking about Winston. I might not be super excited about bringing a goat into the mix, but I can’t bring myself to care when she’s this happy.
The restaurant is nice, but doesn’t seem too fancy. At least not until I notice what’s on the menu. It’s all locally grown food, and everything can be made either gluten-free or dairy-free. The names are completely pretentious, and save for the low jazz music playing, the place is quiet. It’s weird.
Our server approaches, introducing himself as Jarod. “Can I get either of you a drink? Our signature is the Gin Crush, which is made with locally grown oranges and passionfruit.”
“That’s okay, I think?—”
Cutting me off, he continues, “We also have some great wines. I’d be happy to recommend a bottle.”
“I’m happy with a soda water, if that’s okay,” Alice politely responds.
“Same. Thanks.” I smile tightly at him and continue to look at the menu, struggling to find something that sounds appealing.
“Maybe a beer or a cider is more your speed? We have some great local selections as well.” This guy is pushy, andwhen we both look up at him, shaking our heads, his smile falls, and he walks away.
“Hey, Arthur?” Alice asks as she closes her menu. “How set were you on having dinner here?”
“Uh, well, I don’t know what else is around, to be honest. I know that guy was a bit annoying?—”
“That guy sucked, Arthur. I’m sure the food here is amazing, but is it going to taste as good if we have to put up with that?” She doesn’t seem upset, yet I feel like an idiot for already messing this up so badly. I should have waited. I should have planned better. “One of the volunteers at the farm told me there was a food truck event starting tonight. She said she never misses it because there’s always so much to choose from, and there are always new vendors from all over. What do you say?” I drop a twenty on the table. Her genuine excitement over food trucks has me pushing back my chair and reaching for her hand. She takes it, and we scurry out of the restaurant like we’re dining and dashing, which we’re obviously not.
When I open the passenger door for her, we’re both laughing, and I’m wondering how I got so lucky that she walked into Beau’s Bar on a random Wednesday.
After a quick search, we find that the festival is close by, and damn, she wasn’t joking when she said there was a lot to choose from. It’s in a huge field, and after I get our entry tickets, the lanky teenager helping us hands us a map, explaining that there are areas for different food types. Drinks in the middle, desserts on the north side, and so on.
“Have we died and gone to food truck heaven?” The kid laughs at Alice’s question and tells us to enjoy. I have no doubts we will.
Four kinds of tacos,a chicken korma that changed my life, and cannoli that were probably a mistake later, we’re both stuffed. “That was likely the best meal of my life,” Alice sighs, chin resting on her palm as she dreamily looks around at the sea of food trucks in front of us. We opted to sit on a bench and try everything together with all the containers between us. As I return from tossing them all away, I make sure to sit closer to her. Leaning into me, she whispers a thank you, then pulls away again.
“This was your idea, so thankyou,” I say, leaning into her the same way.
“Can I ask you something?” Her gaze lowers to her lap, her voice tentative.
“Of course you can.”
