Page 10 of Just Can't Fall for the Enemy

“No, no.” If it got around town that I was trying to give the guy food poisoning, my plan would go kaput by morning. “Nothing like that. He just doesn’t like spicy foods, so I thought you could give him a little extra kick. You know?”

His smile returned. “Extra kick. I see what you say now.”

I gave him another quick hug. “You’re a good friend. Thank you.”

“I never want to be on your bad side,muchacha.” He practically cackled as I darted back into the dining room just in time to see a red Tesla pull into the small parking lot.

Tanner must have run it through the car wash today because every other car in the lot, including mine, sported early-autumn mud. I kept my hands folded neatly on the table to keep from nervously touching my hair—which I had definitely curled for myself, not him—and pasted a smile on my face as he entered.

He searched the restaurant, his eyebrows lifting when he saw me. Okay, so maybe I’d put on a little makeup too. Fine, slightly more than a little. But tonight had to go perfectly. It was me against twenty million followers—surely worth an extra coat of lip gloss.

He sat and leaned forward, his hands folded. “Is there a reason your Mexican restaurant is called McLaughlin’s, or is that just to throw off the undesirables?”

My smile was real now. “Welcome to Huckleberry Creek.”

He grumbled something under his breath, making me chuckle inwardly. One victory point for me.

He grabbed a menu. “So, what’s good here? Tell me about your favorites.”

I’d prepared for this question. “You have to try the beef flautas or the pork chimichanga, both with Mack’s orange sauce. It’s the secret ingredient.”

“Done. I’ll get both. Anything else?”

“Rudy’s Rainbow Special Liquid Refreshment with no ice. Trust me.”

“Sounds very Mexican.” He chuckled.

When Mack arrived at our table with the menus, his eyes widened. “The travel man, sitting in my restaurant. What an honor.”

Oops. Guess I should have warned him who the celebrity was.

Tanner reached out to fist-bump Mack. “Excited to try it out,amigo. Thanks for serving us today.”

In a second, Mack seemed to gain control and cleared his throat. “What can I get you both?”

Tanner nodded to me to go first.

“We’ll order drinks and food at once, if that’s okay,” I told Mack, who dipped his head in acknowledgment. The less time between drinking and eating, the better my plan would work. It also meant being here as short a time as possible.

Tanner waited for me to give my order, raising an eyebrow when I didn’t order one of the meals I’d told him were my favorite. Mack scribbled away on his notepad. Then Tanner began with his order—in fluent Spanish.

Huh. Didn’t expect that.

Mack looked up in surprise, grinned, then switched to Spanish as well. Within seconds, the two men were shooting the breeze like best friends.

Crap.

I strained but could still only recognize a word here and there—and they were words I’d learned in Mack’s kitchen while filling in to help him out. Tanner said something with a chuckle, and Mack boomed a laugh. A moment later, Mack took our menus and waggled his eyebrows meaningfully at me as he left.

Well, crappedy-crapola. So much for my brilliant plan.

Tanner—one victory point. Tied up.

Tanner sat back, stretching one leg into the aisle in front of him. “Nice man. Interesting he closed a successful restaurant in Cancun to start again here. I don’t know if I could have left those beaches for the harsh forestland of Montana.”

Cancun? I’d known Mack since I could talk, yet he’d never told me about that. I fought the irritation brewing inside at having my friend stolen from me. “Let me guess. You’re a surfing bum who prefers cute servers bringing him cocktails to the dangerous quiet of the Montana wilderness.”

“Um, no.” He coughed a laugh. “Pretty much every word of that is wrong. I tried to surf once, and it was a disaster, but my followers loved it. I’m not a cocktail person, either, and I may be here because this is where the dart landed, but I have to admit I’m also intrigued by your town.” His voice grew quieter at the end, and he took me in with a sharp gaze—every inch, as if it were me, not Huckleberry Creek, that intrigued him.

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