Page 120 of The Wrong Ride Home

Duke’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “New York Strip. T-Bone’s too much work, and I don’t like fighting with my food.”

I chuckled, relaxing into the moment. “Figures that you’d go for efficiency.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “And you? Still a ribeye girl?”

I grinned. “Damn right. More marbling, more flavor.”

He nodded approvingly. “Can’t argue with that.”

I tapped a finger against my glass. “Alright, sauces. A1 or homemade?”

Duke pretended to be offended. “If you ruin a good steak with A1, you deserve to eat boot leather.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That’s the right answer.”

His eyes twinkled. “What about you?”

I drank some wine. It wasnice, I guess. “I’d rather go without than drown a steak in sauce, but if it’s got a good peppercorn or chimichurri, I won’t say no.”

He lifted his glass. “To knowing what’s good.”

I clinked my glass against his. “To good food and….”

Duke watched me over the rim of his glass as he took a sip and then added, “Andbettercompany.”

I flushed. “Okay,” I continued, shifting gears, “best salad dressing?”

He wrinkled his nose. “None.”

I scoffed. “You just eat dry lettuce like some kind of psychopath?”

“I don’t eat lettuce at all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you don’t.”

He shrugged. “I’m a meat and potatoes man, darlin’. You can take the boy out of the ranch, but you can’t take the meat and potatoes out of him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, unable to hide my smile.

He chuckled, then cocked his head. “Alright, my turn—mashed potatoes or baked?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Loaded baked. What about you?”

His lips quirked. “Mashed. Simple. No nonsense.”

I shook my head. “They do it really well here. You’ll be missing out.”

“Nah,” he said, looking at me like he wasn’t just talking about food. “I know what I like.”

I swallowed hard. We were flirting.Really flirting. And suddenly, it wasn’t just playful banter anymore—it was a slow, unfamiliar dance.

I cleared my throat and reached for my drink. “Alright, last one?—”

“Dessert,” Duke finished for me.

I nodded. “You a pie man?”

He leaned forward. “I’d like to eat you for dessert, baby.”

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