Page 53 of Flirting With Fire
“They’re probably in the hutch or one of the kitchen cabinets.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sure Kayla knows.”
Meyer gave me a soft smile, laying his hand on top of mine. “I’m sure she does. In which case, why can’t you make the salsa? I’ll help you.” He chuckled. “It can be a joint project.” He straightened. “Hey, I know. What if I make my chile lemonade, too? We can have both at the booth.”
He was being so sweet, and I appreciated his offer. But still…
“That’s really cool of you to want to help, but I don’t think I’m the fiesta booth type.”
Meyer laughed. “There’s a type?”
I shrugged. “You know. Jolly and salesy.”
He laughed harder. “What the heck is salesy?”
“Like a used car salesman. Buy my stuff! Get the best salsa this side of the Roswell crash site at unbelievable savings!” I wrinkled my nose. “Nope. Not for me.”
Meyer was laughing so hard that he was bent over holding his middle. “Stop, you’re killing me. Not on a full stomach.”
“Sorry. But you can see why it’s a bad idea.”
“No, I can’t,” he said while wiping a finger under each eye. “You told me you’ve been taking orders since summer. I don’t think selling the stuff is going to be an issue.” He smiled. “I’ll help you make the salsa and maybe set up and tear down. I can’t be there to help you man the booth, but we can figure something out.”
“I dunno, Meyer. I’m not exactly Mr. Personality.”
Meyer grinned. “You’re amazing. But I think what you’re trying to say is that you’re on the shy side.”
I frowned. “I’m not shy. I’m just not very good at chit-chat. Like I said, I don’t know how to be a salesperson. And I’m not about to prattle on about how remarkable our family’s salsa is. Especially not to the strangers that come to town for the fiesta.”
“No prattling?” Meyer poked me. “Such a shame.”
“Stop.” I frowned. “I mean it. The whole thing makes me uncomfortable.”
“I’m teasing you.”
Meyer nibbled on my ear lobe, and tiny sparks of electricity danced down my spine. He snaked his arm around my waist, and our metal chairs clanked together.
“You’re definitely teasing me now.” I tried to keep my tone stern, but it was impossible with him so close, so enticing, so mine.
“Good. That’s what I was going for.” He grasped my chin and encouraged me to face him. “Hey, let’s talk to mom about it. She’s not participating in much at the fiesta this year, and I could tell she was disappointed. Several people in town are treating her with kid gloves, so she’s been left out. I bet she’d love to help you man the booth.”
My heart ached for Lindy. I knew how it felt to be overlooked. “Yeah? I don’t want to take advantage.”
Meyer shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can pay her in salsa if it makes you feel better.”
“Well…” I was running out of reasons not to give in. “Only if she really wants to do it.”
“She’ll be thrilled that someone asked her to help.” Meyer stopped feasting on my ear and was now nibbling on my neck. I sensed that neither one of us would be finishing our second burger.
“You have tomorrow off, right?”
Meyer abruptly stopped his nibbling. “Yeah. Did you want to make salsa?”
Ugh. That’s right. If I went through with this wacky idea, I was going to have to actually make the stuff.
“Uh, not especially. Plus, we’ll have to carve out a time to harvest the cactus pads. But I was thinking we could take a trail ride over by the Butte. The creek bed might still be pretty dry, but there are some big rocks we can climb on, have a picnic, or whatever.”
Meyer’s eyes hooded, and he gave me a half-grin. “I like the sound of whatever. Let’s do it.”
Whatever sounded way more entertaining than salsa-making.
