Page 32 of Tattered and Torn

“Outfitting a restaurant sure is expensive,” I say as we exit the building.

“It sure is,” she says. “I’m just glad it’s not my money. Hannah’s brother, Shane, is funding the renovations, and well, he has very deep pockets.”

Once we’re on the road, I realize I’m starving. And if I’m hungry, Gabrielle probably is, too. “How about we stop for lunch?” I ask. “There are plenty of nice restaurants in Denver. I thought you might like to try one.”

She grins at me. “I’d love to. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“Not really. Since you’re new here, why don’t you choose?”

She pulls out her phone and starts searching the reviews for local restaurants. “How about tacos? I could really go for some good tacos. I found a promising place nearby. It’s just fifteen minutes away.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “I can always eat tacos.”

She calls up GPS directions. Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of what looks like a real dive.

Gabrielle frowns as she studies the exterior of the building. Then she glances down at her phone and reads one of the reviews aloud. “Don’t be deceived by the crappy appearance of the place. It may look rundown, but the food is guaranteed epic. And, they offer a ton of local craft beers. Five stars all the way.”

Just as she says that, a group of six guys walk into the restaurant. “Good enough for me,” I say as I shut off the engine. It looks like we’re staying.

My leg protests angrily when I step out of the truck, and I have to grit my teeth. Maybe I can sneak in some over-the-counter pain pills along with my lunch. I refuse to take the prescription stuff.

We arrived at the perfect time—just after the lunch rush—so we’re seated pretty quickly at a table for two next to a window.

A server brings us a basket of warm tortilla chips and a bowl of fresh, homemade salsa. “Do you folks know what you want?” the young man asks. When he catches a glimpse of my face, he does an obvious double-take. Gabrielle must have noticed, too, because I see her wince.

I turn my head slightly so the kid can’t see the left side of my face.

An awkward silence follows as we order our food—two taco platters and two Cokes.

“Why don’t you take off your hat?” Gabrielle asks as our server walks away. “You have nothing to hide.”

Is she nuts? “I don’t need folks starin’ at me like I’m a freak from a horror movie.”

“You’re not a freak,” she says, clearly offended by the thought. “You’re actually a very handsome man.” She picks up a chip and dips it in the salsa. “Very.”

“Are you blind?”

She chuckles. “No. I’m a woman, and we know these things. You should trust me. You’re a very attractive man, John.”

I find myself grinning as I reach for a tortilla chip. When she’s distracted by a baby crying two tables over, I pop a pain pill.

“Does your leg hurt?” she asks. “I noticed you were limping earlier.”

I nod. “From all that walking on concrete.” I stretch my leg out beneath the table and wince at the tightness. Despite the added pain, I run the heel of my palm up and down my thigh, pressing firmly into the sore tissue. “I haven’t been stretching enough lately.”

“You should have told me you were in pain. I could have cut the trip short.”

I grab another chip. “No, it’s all right.” I can feel her gaze on me.

“You don’t have to be a tough guy, you know,” she says. “My dad was forced to retire from medicine after he had a stroke. He was in a wheelchair shortly after that. I know it’s not the same thing, but I understand.”

I look away, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t need your pity, Gabrielle.”

“It’s not pity,” she says. “I care about you—your discomfort. Have you tried massage? It helped my dad a lot.”

I shake my head, but before I can answer, our server brings us our food, putting a quick end to an uncomfortable conversation.

The food is indeed epic, just as the reviewer claimed. The soft tacos are flavorful, as are the refried beans and the rice.

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