Page 35 of Rio's Release

“All of us,” Rio says, and he and Zig head to a pickup truck.

I grab Jenny’s arm and hustle her to the car. “Let’s go before that asshole rides past the store again.”

The pickup truck falls in behind me, and I lead them to my favorite Mexican place.Cuatro Caballosor Four Horses. The place is old with thick adobe walls.

I park, and Rio’s friend parks next to my driver’s door. Rio climbs out, then opens my door, extending his hand to help me from the vehicle.

I’ve never had a man do that for me. But I ignore it and climb out myself.

When I come to my feet, I’m only a breath away from him, and we stare into each other’s eyes. For a moment, it’s as if we’re the only two people on the planet. This fire flaring between us is dangerous. I feel it to my bones.

The spell is broken when Jenny slams her door.

“Lead the way,” Rio says with a sweep of his hand.

He stays close enough behind me he’s there to hold the door open for me.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

A smiling gentleman greets us. “How many today? Would you like to sit in our courtyard? It’s a lovely day.”

“That sounds great. Four,” Rio says, but his friend immediately counters, grabbing Jenny’s hand.

“Make that two. I think my girl and I would like to sit inside.”

“Of course. Right this way.” He leads us from the entryway through an arched doorway, past an intricate tile fountain and through a dining room. The floor is Mexican tile with colorful tables and ladder-back wooden chairs. Gas lanterns flicker on the golden adobe walls and mariachi music plays quietly in the background. There’s a bar at the far end, and on the right is alarge doorway leading out to the enclosed courtyard. Our host pauses at a small table inside. “Will this suit you, sir?”

“It’ll be fine,” Rio’s friend says, dragging out a chair for Jenny.

She doesn’t look too pleased with this new development, but from their table they’ve got a straight-line view of the courtyard.

“Perfect.” The host passes them each a menu and snaps his fingers to an employee who hurries over. “I’m Juan. Mario will be your server.”

Then he leads Rio and me into the courtyard.

I feel Rio’s hand resting lightly on the small of my back, guiding me. I fight the natural alarm bells a man’s touch brings and breathe slowly. It’s just Rio.

We’re led to a small table near another fountain in the center of the courtyard.

Rio pulls out my chair, and I sit.

Colorful lights are strung across above us.

Rio points to the brightly colored paper designs also strung above our heads. “What are those called? I’ve always liked them.”

“Papel Picado, sir, a Mexican folk art made by cutting detailed patterns on tissue paper,” our host answers, passing us each a menu.

“Thank you,” Rio replies.

“Consuela will be your server.” The man bows and withdraws.

“This place is pretty cool,” Rio says, looking around.

I follow his gaze. “It’s been here since the 1800s and rumored to have once harbored the likes of Billy the Kid and Pancho Villa.”

“Outlaws, huh? I guess I fit right in.” He gives me a half smile.

Clearing my throat, I look at my menu. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

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