Page 8 of Flirting With Fire
My stomach tightened. “Is there something wrong?”
“Not wrong so much as you’re not going to be too thrilled.” If she were in front of me, I imagined she’d have her nose scrunched up, and lips pursed the way they always were when she had something uncomfortable to say. “I can’t make it to the Dancing Chiles Food Fiesta this year.”
“But…” My shoulders dropped. It must be Disrupt Dexter’s Ordered Existence Day. Okay, so maybe I fear change. But there are much worse phobias to have. “I already have almost fifty orders. The townspeople count on getting their prickly pear salsa at the fiesta every year. It’s our family tradition.”
I was only one more whine away from sounding like a toddler.
“I know, I know. I feel really bad. But that’s the only week Todd can get off work for our vacation.”
“That’s perfect.” Already, hope had bloomed. “You guys can come here. I bet he’d love to help you make the salsa.”
She snorted loud enough to impress my bulls. “Yeah. I don’t think so. But good try.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Dex. He’s the new guy at the firm, and he only gets one week off this year. Somehow, I don’t think scraping needles off cactus pads so they can be consumed without digestive injury compares with a cruise to the Bahamas.”
“Reservations have been made?”
“Yup. And deposits taken.”
“Is he paying for this?” I asked.
“Signing bonus.”
I nodded in defeat. “He sounds like a keeper.”
This time, her sigh was wistful. “I sure hope so. I’m so tired of the dating scene.”
I winced at the jab in my chest. I’d probably be tired of the scene too, except that there wasn’t one in Charming. At least not for me.
“It sounds great, Kayla. I hope you have a wonderful time.”
I truly did. I loved her and wanted her to have the best of everything.
“I feel bad about canceling; I really do. It’ll be the first time since Mom and Dad died that I haven’t been to the fiesta.”
I rubbed my chest and decided this conversation with my sister was veering toward making me feel worse instead of better.
“Yeah. Same.”
“Wait a minute.” She huffed. “You’re not going?”
“Well…” I pinched my eyebrows together. “We always go together—I’m not saying that to guilt trip you, I swear. But if I’m not helping you load the salsa jars into the truck and setting up the tent and display, I’m not sure what else to do with myself.”
“Help me lord…” She muttered. “First off, why wouldn’t you go and hang out? You know everyone, they know you, and I doubt you’ll get run out of town because you didn’t provide them with their yearly salsa fix.”
“I know that.” I traced a finger through the condensation on the glass of my rapidly warming tea. I was truly feeling sorry for myself. “I’m sure I’ll end up going. The Cow Patty Kickers will probably play, and I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bag or two of Alma’s pecan brittle.”
“Gee, try to tamp down your excitement before you hurt yourself. Let me ask you something. Why not take the salsa like usual and fill those orders? It’ll give you a chance to, I don’t know, get out and socialize. Even when you go with me every year, you stand to the side and don’t say much. I always end up doing all the talking.”
“Well, yeah. It’s impossible to get a word in edgewise.”
“Oh, aren’t we hilarious?”
We both laughed, and I focused on keeping my tone light so I didn’t bum her out. It wasn’t her fault that I was the cowboy wallflower to her social butterfly.
“I get what you mean,” I said. “You’ve been cool about not hassling me to get out more, and I know doing nothing but working on the ranch constantly isn’t healthy. I rarely do anything, and now that Lindy…”
I pressed my lips together. I didn’t need to bring that up again. Maybe Meyer’s sudden appearance was exactly the change I needed.
“Dex, you’re a year younger than me, and it still feels like you’re my much older brother. You’ve taken on such a huge responsibility with the ranch. If you ever decide to sell?—”
