Page 22 of One Whopper of a Love Story

“But not before your halted and cryptic statements ramp up my curiosity.” He gazed down at me. “What’s got you so tense?”

“The very first week I moved here, I met this guy at the grocery store, and he invited me over.”

Jealously flickered in Nico’s eyes, but he nodded, silently prodding me to continue.

“Nothing happened. His friends were there. They were nice. And after I left, I never saw him again.” This would’ve been a good time to mention that I was the woman who rarely got called back for a second date, but I didn’t. “I didn’t see him in a dating kind of way, but I see him around town.”

His eyes narrowed as if he was thinking hard. “Your true confession somehow relates to this place?”

“I had lunch with The Cowboy Chef. His name is Jeffrey.”

Nico’s hand tightened around mine. “I know him.”

“He was a gentleman, so it’s not like he’s a bad guy or anything. It’s just awkward sometimes. He wasn’t a fan of giggling.” I watched Nico’s chest rise and fall, wishing he would say something instead of just gazing at me.

“Do you want to stay?” He glanced at the door and then out toward his truck.

“I do. He’s a good cook, just not dating material. For me, at least.”

Nico’s lips curled into a small smile as he pulled open the door. “Next time we go out, we’ll choose a different place. Tonight, we’ll just hope we don’t bump into him.”

“Next time?” My words came out much breathier than I’d intended, and there were probably stars dancing in my eyes.

His stubble tickled my cheek when he leaned close. “Yes, and hopefully many times after that.”

Chapter 12

Nico

After a fabulous dinner where we did not see The Cowboy Chef, Layla and I strolled into the dance hall. I’d been looking forward to this part of the evening since she’d agreed to go out with me. Not only did I love dancing, but knowing she’d be in my arms all evening was the cherry on top.

“What can I get you from the bar?” I helped her onto a tall stool at a bar-height table.

She chewed her bottom lip and tapped a fingernail on the table. “I think... since you are driving, I’ll have a margarita.”

“Coming right up.” I brushed a hand down her back. “Then we’ll dance.”

The line at the bar was short, and after only a minute, the woman behind the counter asked what I wanted.

“I’ll have a margarita and a bottle of water.” I handed her cash when she set the drinks on the bar. “Thanks.”

As I set Layla’s drink on the table, someone patted my shoulder.

“Nico, fancy seeing you here.” Dag grinned, then turned his attention to Layla. Pointing at the drink in front of her, he lifted his eyebrows. “You old enough for that?”

My cousin was six years older than I was and if he was breathing, he was flirting. I debated whether I should let him talk himself into a corner or I should be kind and stop him.

Layla picked up her drink and took a sip, then her gaze snapped from Dag to the woman standing beside him.

Goldie grinned and stuck her hand out. “I’m Goldie. Don’t mind Hidalgo. He thinks he’s funny.”

“Usually when someone is funny, other people laugh.” Layla shook Goldie’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Layla.”

Biting back a laugh, I tucked an arm around Layla. “She works at the doughnut shop. And unlike some people”—I patted Dag’s shoulder—“she’s funny.”

Dag tipped his hat. “Forgive my attempt at humor. So you work with Tessa?”

“For about a month now. I really like her.”

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