Page 9 of Faking It with my Bestie's Billionaire Brother

She was sitting at one of those picnic tables but appeared to be wearing a dress. Nothing fancy, just a simple sundress, but the sight of it made my mouth go dry.

"Sir? Do you want to check with your dinner guest to see if it's the right place?"

I shook myself back into action. "No, Terrence, it’s is the right place. I see my dinner date. I'll call when I'm ready to head back home, thank you," I said, sliding out of the backseat and running an oddly nervous hand over my suit jacket. I was much too overdressed for this establishment.

Ava was looking down at her phone with a stylus in hand, drawing something, her brow furrowed in concentration as I approached the picnic table. She didn't look up when I stopped until I cleared my throat, and her head shot up.

"Oh, hi," she said, as if I was the last person she expected to see. "You actually made it."

"Of course, I did ask for this meeting."

I saw her lips holding back her smile. "Yeah, but I never imagined you'd actually haul your fancy ass all the way out here to the Tasty Torres' taco truck."

I stiffened. "Well, you set the terms, so I am here. I am a man of my word. I think you will find that out soon enough."

Her cheeks colored, and a thread of satisfaction ran through me. I pushed that aside, reminding myself what was at stake here, and asked her, "Have you already eaten?"

She shook her head. "Do you really think I'm that rude? Of course I waited for you." Rising from her seat, she worked her way out of the picnic table. I could see in full view now the coral-pink sundress contoured to her very generous chest, nipped in at the waist, and then went out to a full skirt, like something from an old 1950s beach movie.

I followed behind her, my eyes choosing to transfix on the simple sandals that adorned her small, pretty feet. I had never been somebody who noticed feet before, but right now, I was noticing hers, along with everything else about her—particularly the gentle sway of those hips beneath that dress.

"I realize this food probably isn't your normal fare, but you're missing out. Frankie makes the best tacos on this side of LA." Turning to me, she stopped suddenly, looking at me critically. "Although, you're probably going to want to put a napkin in your collar, so you won’t mess up that fancy suit. These tacos get messy," she warned before turning back to the window and telling the man behind the counter what she wanted.

When she finished and gestured for me to place an order of my own, I looked at her dumbfounded, then back at the man, who was waiting impatiently. "Um, I'll have whatever she's having."

"Good choice," she said, and I started to head back to the table, but she called out, "Where are you going? They're already ready."

I raised a worried eyebrow. It came together awfully fast for something as good as she claimed they would be.

I scooped up the baskets with our food, and she led me to a little condiment stand just off to the side of the trailer. "I like extra salsa verde, but you don't look like a man who likes a lot of spice in his life, though I bet you probably need it," she told me solemnly.

Annoyed by her assumption and determined to prove her wrong, I looked down at the available condiments. "Load me up."

A wicked twinkle sparkled in her eye, and then, she did as I instructed, piling the salsa high onto the tacos.

We headed back to the picnic table she had been sitting at when I had arrived and settled across from each other.

I smiled when I saw her take the paper napkin out and meticulously lay it across her lap before she dug into the tacos with a relish. I was fascinated from watching her eat. She ate like I imagined she did everything else, with passion and relish. My mind wondered what other things she might do with those two traits.

I hadn't realized I was staring until she paused, snatching up another napkin to wipe her mouth and swallowing hard before she asked, "Well? Are you going to eat or what?"

"Right," I said, picking up one of the greasy tacos and taking a tentative bite. I tried to ignore the fact that she was watching me carefully, then I was distracted by the explosion of flavors on my tongue. These were good, better than the chintzy plates of food I got in most restaurants I dined at.

She nodded her head, and a pleased smile bloomed on her face. "Right? I told you."

I didn't say anything, just took another bite, letting myself enjoy this moment. I did have regrets about how much salsa I had let her put on, but it didn't change how good the rest of the food was.

We sat, oddly enough, in a rather companionable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying our food. It was only after she was halfway through the second taco that she finally set down a balled-up napkin and asked, "So, what is it that you need to talk to me about concerning Penny?"

I swallowed the bite of food I just took, and it got stuck in my throat. I found myself coughing around it.

"Hey, easy, easy," she cautioned, shoving my bottle of water toward me. “These tacos aren’t the kind of food you scarf down. You’re supposed to savor them.”

I took a few sips of water, working the food down before I finally looked at her evenly, hoping my nerves weren't showing through. Once again, I wondered how the hell she made me so damn nervous. "Well, it's complicated, you see."

She rolled her eyes at my formal word choice. "You see? That right there is already making me nervous. Nothing is ever truly that complicated. We humans just like to get in there and muck things up, and that's where it gets complicated. So, I'm guessing you must've messed something up? That’s usually when men dole out the ‘it’s complicated’ line."

I bit back a frustrated growl. "If you must know, I was just doing my job and looking out for my company and my family. It's other people who are attempting to muck things up, and I’m left to clean up the mess. Unfortunately, I'm going to need a little assistance, and for better or for worse, you seem to be the person for the job."

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