Page 122 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

Instead, she nods. “Good for you, sweetheart.”

This is Vegas. Probably nothing surprises her anymore.

“She needs to eat,” Rosa tells Caleb. “Carne asada for you?”

“Always.”

She points toward Lucian. “And him?”

“Feed him whatever you think he deserves.”

Lucian slips his sunglasses into the front of his shirt. “Your hospitality is overwhelming.”

Rosa tells us she’ll prepare a feast for us to share

“And Sophie wants a Queen of Hearts,” Caleb adds.

I frown at him. “How do you know I want a Queen of Hearts?”

“You studied it on the menu for six seconds.”

I had, and the mocktail version with tart cherry juice, blood orange, and ginger sounded amazingly refreshing. But I’ve never had anything like it. “It might be terrible.”

“You’ll love it,” Rosa promises. “Now sit. I’ll bring everything out.”

Remarkably my husbands obey.

We take a table beneath the awning, the one with a fan making a pathetic attempt at moving the hot, dry air around.

Caleb’s back is to the makeshift wall. He’s not relaxed. And I’m beginning to believe that the only place he lets down his guard even a little is when we’re alone at their penthouse.

“You grew up here?” I ask.

“A few miles away.”

Though I hope he’ll go on, he doesn’t.

Rosa brings our drinks, followed by baskets of tacos, salsa, lime wedges, grilled onions, peppers, and elote.

There are no tweezers in sight.

Lucian studies the salsa. “Which one?”

“Start with the red,” Caleb advises.

“It appears capable of stripping varnish.”

“Which is why you’ll like it.”

I opt for a much-safer fish taco.

“Lime?” Caleb offers.

“I was raised in Texas. I know how to eat a taco.”

“Prove it.”

I squeeze lime over the top and take a bite. A thin stream of juice escapes over the side of my hand, and before I can reach for a napkin, Caleb catches my wrist and draws it toward his mouth.