“We have to eat, don’t we? Speaking of which, when are those muffins you have baking ready? I’m starved.” He sat back and rubbed his firm stomach.
“Soon.” I laughed. “You can’t rush perfection.”
“Oh darlin’, of that I have no doubt.”
****
I felt like a teenager getting ready that night. It had been years since I’d been on a date and this was with Cal. Axel had picked Mason up, planning to take him up to their house for the night.
After a long shower that didn’t soothe my frayed nerves, I contemplated what to wear. I settled on my gray skinny jeans with a white button-up blouse tucked into them. My chunky brown belt and ankle boots finished the look.
I regarded myself in the mirror. With my Native American roots my skin was a light caramel brown. The girls always said I looked younger than my thirty-two years. Being that most of my friends were younger than me, I’d take the compliment gratefully. My long black hair hung straight down my back. I debated doing something with it, but decided I didn’t want to look too overdone. I swept some eyeliner and mascara on my dark eyes and put a light gloss on my full lips. I rarely wore much makeup.
When I wandered out to the kitchen, Cal was leaning against the fridge eating another muffin. Dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, he was edible.
“I’m going to have to double the batch next time.” I laughed.
He shook his head, swallowing the last bite. “If you keep baking like this I’m going to have to double my workouts.” He chuckled.
I couldn’t imagine what more he could do to improve his physique.
“Glad you approve.” His eyes shone with delight.
Holy hell, had I said thatout loud?
“Ready?” I asked, trying to push past my embarrassment.
He nodded, his eyes sweeping appreciatively over my frame. “We’re taking the bike.”
A thrill shot through me at the prospect as we headed for the garage.
He put my helmet on for me, standing a breath away. He dropped his head, delivering a quick kiss to my lips before he swung a muscular leg over the bike.
I shook myself out of the haze he’d created and swung up behind him, wrapping my arms around his torso.
We tore through town, the night air warm with a hint of summer. I hadn’t asked where we were going. I honestly didn’t care. I was content to ride with him, enjoying the rumble of the engine and the feeling of him in my arms.
We pulled up to a small, nondescript restaurant outside of Reno.
“What is this place?” I asked after I’d gotten off the bike and was working on my helmet.
“Best Mexican food in Nevada,” he replied, taking my hand and leading me inside. I hadn’t had good Mexican food in so long. My mouth watered at the prospect.
Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit with twinkling lights strung up to create an iridescent glow.
“Senor Jackson!” A cry came from the back before a man appeared, clapping his hands in delight. “Welcome!”
Cal shook the man’s hand. “How are you, Gustavo?”
“Wonderful, just wonderful,” the man replied, his gaze turning to me. “Ah, and who is the lovely lady?”
I blushed. “Jill,” I introduced, shaking his hand and looking at Cal inquiringly.
“I’ve been coming here for years,” he explained before he leaned down to murmur in my ear. “May have helped Gus here out of a jam or two.”
I nodded, following as we were led to our table toward the back.
“Best seat in the house.” Gustavo nodded. “A margarita for the lady?”
