I think Fallon and I might just be on the same page when it comes to Aurora.
As I follow him, Fallon says, “Also, I’ve had to increase security because a couple of sports reporters and paparazzi have been nosing around. Keep your head down and make sure that they don’t try and sniff around Aurora.”
Chapter 45
Me: I’m downstairs in the lobby. Lunch? Taco Tuesday at Mannie’s!
Prescott: Give me five.
The meeting with Sheila went well. I think the building on Main Street will be perfect for a youth music and arts center, and it should also be big enough to house a small theater and stage, several classrooms, and rooms we can soundproof for music lessons. I can’t wait to get back and talk to Austin, see if what I have in mind is doable with our allocated budget or if we need to do a targeted fundraising campaign to raise the necessary capital.
I haven’t spoken to Prescott or Dustin since the diner incident. Dustin, I actively avoided since this weekend because I’m mad at him for his sneaky ambush. However, my apology to him for overreacting will have to wait since he’s currently at D & D in Seattle for the rest of the week.
The elevator doors open, and Prescott walks out. Once again, I’m taken aback by how much he and JD’s son, Connor, look like each other. Same brown eyes and curly blond hair. It makes me think of how often the guys would tell me I looked like Fallon and Trevor. Prescott smiles at me and his dimple pokes out on his left cheek. I’m used to seeing it since Prescott smiles a lot, but that’s not what is making my stomach go queasy and unsettled. Connor also has a dimple in his left cheek when he smiles.
“This is a nice surprise,” Prescott greets me, and he lifts me up into his arms for a hug. I squeeze him back then pull away to stare at his face. “What? Do I have food in my teeth or something?” he asks.
I shake my head to clear my wayward thoughts. “Sorry. Just lost in thought,” I reply. He puts me down. “How are you?”
Taking my hand, we walk across the street to our favorite taco truck. The owner, Manuel, makes the meanest plate of nachos with fresh salsa east of Texas. My mouth is already watering before the yummy smells hit me.
“There are my two favorite customers!” Mannie calls out as we approach his food truck. “I thought you two had forgotten about me.”
“Not a chance. You know I can’t go a few days without having one of your homemade grilled chipotle tacos. I took a long weekend,” I tell him.
Prescott grabs two bottles of soda from the barrel full of ice next to the serving window and hands me one.
“Can we get some chips and salsa, fully loaded with extra guac, and a plate of tacos, half beef and half chicken, please?”
“For you, sweet señorita, anything.”
Prescott hands him two twenties and doesn’t wait to get change back. We always make sure Mannie gets a big tip. There are four tables with umbrellas adjacent to the food truck. Two are occupied, so Prescott and I take the next empty one. The three women sitting at the table to our left eye-fuck the hell out of him. Normally, he’d go and flirt, but for some reason, he doesn’t today.
“Did you have fun on your days off?”
I twist the cap off my soft drink and take a sip. “Not answering until you tell me why you didn’t answer my texts the other night or come out to dinner with us.”
He rakes his hand through his mop of curls, and I find myself staring at him yet again. I’m turning into a crazy creeper.
“I needed some time alone. You thoughtyougot blind-sided by JD at Ruby’s. He double-downed the next day at O’Reilly’s.”
“Wait. You’ve spoken to JD?”
“Not like I had a choice,” he mumbles, “after he showed up at my office and threw Candace in my face.”
“Your ex-girlfriend from high school, Candace?” I clarify and he nods in affirmation. That uneasy, slippery feeling in my stomach comes back with a vengeance.
“And?” I prompt, wanting him to continue.
“Shit, Rory. I can’t. As much as I’m ticked off at the guy, I promised I wouldn’t say anything to you until JD talked to you first.”
“That’s bullshit,” I explode, garnering the attention of the women sitting near us. I lower my voice. “That’s bullshit,” I repeat in a whisper-shout. “What does your ex have to do with JD, me, or anything else?”
Mannie shouts that our order is ready, and Prescott jumps up like his pants are on fire to go get it.
“Thanks,” I tell him when he returns and places my food down in front of me.
Prescott takes his seat and starts to shovel nachos into his mouth while avoiding looking at me.
