I shake my head. “Potatoes, salt, and vanilla? No thank you.”
“Your loss.” He dips another fry. Then, moans with satisfaction.
My core tightens, heat curling low. I need a distraction.
I grab a fry and give it a swirl. Sweet, crunch, and salt hit all at once. I moan, too.
He arches a thick black eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, settling back into the seat. “That’s amazing.”
The corners of his mouth flirt with tipping up, his face relaxed and kind. I could almost convince myself he’s enjoying this “date” with me. Though I tell myself it’s charity.
“I should really stop,” I say, taking another bite of my burger, savory and sweet with crispy onions and lettuce and thick, juicy tomato slices.
“Don’t do shoulds,” he counters. “At least, I try to avoid them.”
“Why?” I ask, wiping a napkin over my lips, and chewing slowly. Savoring one of the best burgers I’ve ever eaten.
“Life’s too short.”
So, I finish the burger and the fries without one sideways glance from him. Not one condescending smirk. Instead, he looks pleased.
“Thank you,” I say, leveling my gaze on him. “This was amazing.”
“Not done,” he says. “Unless you want us to be.”
Us. It hits harder than it should.
I swallow loudly. “Not done? But where else will we go?”
“You know what I like. Now, tell me what you enjoy?”
“What I enjoy?” My voice trails off, frowning in thought. “Pretty much everything.”
My patent answer to Trevor. Because we only ever did what he wanted anyway.
Austin doesn’t interject, hands relaxed in his lap. No impatience or pressure. As if my decision could take all night, and he’d be fine with it.
“Maybe this sounds kind of geeky and all, but I love cafes. Not that I could possibly eat or drink another thing right now. And knitting shops and music.” I furrow my brows, thinking hard. “Art stores and books.”
“Books.”
“Yeah, books.”
“Not geeky,” he says, stuffing empty trays back into bags before he shoves them into the garbage at the end of the restaurant parking lot. Our teen server waves from the distance. “Bye, Austin. See you soon.”
The cowboy tips his hat. “Till next time, Phoenix.”
As we drive, I observe, “You know everyone in this town.”
“Small towns,” he says.
“Ever get tired of them?”
“Get tired of the people sometimes,” he drawls. “But never the horses.”
Chapter
