Page 51 of Tacos & Toboggans
“Guys, he’s nine years older than I am and a doctor.”
“Did either of those two things matter when he had his tongue down your throat today?” Addie asked.
I gasped while the rest of them snorted, trying to hold in their laughter but failing. “Kill me now, Lord,” I moaned. “It wasn’t that kind of a kiss!” It so was, but there wasn’t a snowball's chance in hell I was going to tell them that.
“According to Becca’s security cameras, that is a lie,” Ivy said, and I flipped my head to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t.
“When did they put up security cameras?” The question was asked in shocked surprise because, as far as I knew, they didn’t have any out there.
“Was going to mention that at the meeting this week, but I wasn’t expecting you to be sucking face with Dr. McHottie before that.”
My eyes rolled at her nickname for him. While accurate, I refused to engage.
“Cameron decided the field needed coverage to protect the tree from humans and animals,” Heather explained. “I’m glad he finally got the entire property covered. It protects him in multiple ways.”
“I agree with that statement,” I said with a nod. “Well, I’ll grab those tortillas and be off then.” My tone was cheerful as if the last twenty minutes hadn’t happened. “Thanks for the roll and coffee.”
“You’re welcome,” Ivy said without budging. “But we need to circle back to why you think you don’t deserve him.”
“I didn’t say that,” I pointed out. “You guys said that.”
“Your face did,” Heather muttered, and Addie snorted. “Too bad Becca isn’t here.”
“Why?” I asked, glancing between her and Heather.
Heather answered. “Because she’d tell you how the ten years between her and my brother don’t matter, and neither does anything else other than how you feel when you’re together. Everything else is noise, not of your creation, so all you can do is let it go and focus on what’s important. When you see Becca and Cam together, do you see the ten years between them?” I shook my head. “Do you see that my brother has advanced degrees, multiple businesses, and more zeros in his bank account than I can count, while Becca has no degrees and came from a childhood of depravity?”
“Now you’re just being silly,” I said with a huff, wishing I could cross my arms over my chest, but my splint made it impossible.
“No, you are,” Ivy said. “That’s their point.”
“Because the fact that he’s older and a doctor isn’t a good reason not to date him?” I asked, earning a round of head nodding.
“That was the feeling I got this morning when he had his tongue down my throat,” I admitted, waiting for Ivy’s squeal in my ear. When it happened, I was not disappointed. The entire diner turned to look. Ivy gave zero cares as she threw her arms around me.
“I knew it!” she exclaimed, laughter on her lips as Mel, Heather, and Addie joined in. “That man is fine,” she said, drawing the word out.
That’s when I remembered the conversation at the farm between him and Becca. My heart sank. When I dropped him at the house to get his car, he made me promise I’d be there when he returned so we could share dinner and talk. I didn’t know the whole story, but I worried that he thought my reluctance to date him was because of his leg, which wasn’t the case. The idea that he thought I’d walk away if he told me the truth strengthened my resolve to lead with my heart tonight and show him that he was safe with me.
Chapter Seventeen
When I returned home from the diner, Major was already there. He was more than a little surprised to see I’d picked up some tortillas while I was out, but he didn’t argue as he opened the bottle of wine and let it breathe while I made the rice. Once the rice was simmering, we shared a glass of wine, and he explained that his patient was on their way home after a successful surgery. The case had invigorated him, and while he knew he wouldn’t get many revision surgeries in Bells Pass, he enjoyed helping people when they came in. I wasn’t so sure about that prediction. Once word spread that there was a doctor in town who could help people with unusual issues from joint replacement surgery, something told me he’d be busier than he ever thought possible.
Once the rice was ready, we enjoyed it wrapped in the new spinach tortillas that Ivy had given me instead of the sundried tomato. Knowing Major was the expert on the Spanish Rooster, she wanted his opinion, so I happily obliged.
“These are as good or better than the tomato,” he said, pointing at the last of his burrito. “The tomato tortillas are good, but they blend in with the taste of the tomatoes in the rice. These add a contrasting flavor that makes it spark.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I said, finishing mine and slipping the plate onto the coffee table. We were enjoying our dinneron the couch with a glass of wine, the music playing softly in the background. He’d lit a few candles and kept the lights low, which built the level of intimacy to the point that all I wanted to do was kiss him again.
“They’re amazing, but how are the kids going to keep up with making so many if they’re going to be a daily special?”
I’d told him about Ivy putting them on the menu for the foreseeable future every Tuesday, to which he did a fist pump and some dance that reminded me of a chicken in a disco.
“They won’t be making them anymore,” I answered, sipping my wine. “The bakery will. They have the tools to get the job done quickly, from the mixers to the dough press to the industrial ovens.”
His frown made me lower my glass to my leg. “What? Is that bad? They’ll taste the same.”
“No, but I feel terrible that my love for the rooster took the job away from the kids at the farm.”
