Chapter 19
Pane
One step inside the restaurant and I know Rowe made the right decision, because the place smells like heaven.
It’s definitely cleaner than the bar. Who wants to walk on broken peanut shells? But the place was welcoming, even if it did make me wonder whether or not my tetanus vaccine is up to date.
A woman in her sixties with short, gray hair enters from the back of the restaurant. She wipes her hands on a towel and gives us a warm smile.
“Hello, my darlings. What can I get for you?”
“Gloria’s from Cuba,” Rowe whispers loudly behind her hand.
Sunbeam’s adorable when she’s a little loose.
“My dear, do you have a new friend?”
Rowe steps forward, tugging my hand. She stares down at where her finger is curled around my pinkie and drops me like I’m made of ice.
“Gloria, this is Pane Maddox. He’s amazing with a chain saw. Pane, this is Gloria. She is amazing with empanadas.”
I take the hand she offers. “Pleasure. Do you need any work done that I can use a chain saw for?”
The woman roars with laughter.
“Of course she doesn’t.” Rowe slaps my chest and whips toward Gloria. “Please excuse him. He doesn’t know how to act around normal people.”
“Welcome to Mystic Meadows,” Gloria says in her thick Spanish accent. “You’ll love it here. There’s no better place on earth.” Then she gives us a big smile. “Okay, my darlings, what can I get for you?”
Since this is Rowe’s jam, I let her do the ordering.
Then we sit in the waiting area while Gloria disappears in the back to make our food.
“We can take it with us to the bar,” Rowe explains. “Isaac won’t care. Plus, Gloria doesn’t have a dining room, as you can see.” She gestures to the small waiting area that’s decorated with four chairs. “It’s purely a to-go establishment. But it’s the best,” she gushes excitedly. “You’re going to love it, as long as you enjoy meat and pastry.”
“I think I proved that this morning,” I reply, eyeing her mouth.
She licks her lips—whether consciously or unconsciously, I don’t know—and it about drives me out of my mind.
Rowe leans in. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“If it’s not good, I’m never going to speak to you again.”
“You—” She straightens, frowns at me. “Are you serious?”
“If I am?”
“Youhaveto talk to me. We’re saving my farm. Plus, I like you.” She elbows me before her gaze darts to my arm. She quickly backpedals. “Notlikeyou, like you. But you’re okay.”
“I’m ‘okay’? That’s all? I can’t do better than that?”
She shrugs. “For now, you’re okay.”
“That’s it,” I announce emphatically.
“What?”
“I’m going to prove to you that I’m better than okay.”
