The flirting I got so defensive about? That was some superficial shit. This Cruz? Charming and intense. This Cruz is the one not everyone sees.
But I get to.
I tuck my hand into the crook of his arm, and he leads me out and loads me into his pickup. His cowboy hat is on the back seat, but he keeps his hair neatly combed for our lunch.
“Do you clean this every day?” I ask when he climbs behind the wheel.
He pauses for a moment. “I give it a quick vacuum on most days.”
“Most days? You’re a rancher. They have dirty pickups.”
“This gets dirty.” His smile is more distant than I’ve ever seen. “I just clean it more often. How’s your car?”
The subject change is deliberate, but I’m a closed book with him, so I can’t call him on it. “I haven’t driven it yet, but Lane got it here, so that’s a good sign.”
He chuckles and drives off. When he parks in front of the new restaurant built on the edge of town, he insists I wait for him to open the door.
My feet hit the ground. “You don’t have to open every door for me.”
“Mae taught me right.”
Mae Bailey. He said a lot in that short sentence, and it wasn’tmy mama taught me right. What happened to his mom?
Like many others in town, I’ve paid attention whenever anyone talked about Cruz. When he was out of high school, he worked for the Copper Summit Bourbon family, ranching in Bourbon Canyon. Then his oldest brother brought him into the Foster House fold, and now he’s here in Huckleberry Springs. Bourbon Canyon’s loss is my town’s gain.
I push all my questions aside as we walk into the restaurant. Half the tables are full with tourists and locals, and the smell of grilled meat fills the air.
“How ya doing?” Cruz says to a loan officer at the bank as the hostess leads us to a table. “Afternoon.” He nods to a family around the table closest to us.
We’re seated in a booth right by the front window. A tendril of dread swirls through my stomach. It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with Cruz. He seems like a good guy and he’s respected in town, but I’m allergic to anyone being in my business.
He’s sitting across from me. I’m out with this man. My belly does a dive and swoop. He almost kissed me the other night. I feel like a teen again, experiencing those first heady moments of connecting with a guy.
I’m not an inexperienced girl. Not nearly long enough ago, I was in a committed relationship. But this moment, it’s all new again. Scary. Exciting. Unknown.
And that’s the part I’m having trouble with.
“Have you eaten here yet?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t get out much anymore.”
“But you used to?”
I nod and bite my lower lip. “Too much.”
“I hear ya.”
Before I can follow up with questions, the server swings by, delivering chips and salsa. I order a water, and Cruz gets a rootbeer. When we’re alone again, I study the menu to keep from making small talk. Have I gotten that bad at it?
No. Chatting was always a skill I excelled at until I weaponized it. My dad could talk to an empty park bench and make its day, and I used to take after him.
Cruz sets his menu aside. I knew what I wanted before I stepped through the door. I always order the carne asada if it’s available. I set my menu down and brace for the questions.
“You’re nervous,” he says.
“Yes.” Admitting it takes some of the weight off. “But not for why you might think.” Well... “A little for why you might think.”
“I think you’ve been burned before.”
