Page 30 of Boulder's Weight

It’s a bit chilly in comparison to how it has been lately, but we’re supposed to be getting some storms later.

I notice how she scans the street as soon as we step outside, the way her body stays slightly tense.

It's the same awareness I see in club members who've been through shit—always on alert, always watching for threats.

But why?

Why does she have this sort of guard up?

The bar she leads me to is a local spot, not one of the tourist traps.

It's dimly lit with Mexican folk art on the walls, and a small band playing in the corner.

The food smells amazing, and my stomach rumbles in response.

We find a small table in the corner, and a waitress quickly brings us menus and two shots of tequila we didn't order.

"Courtesy of the house," she explains with a smile. "For the beautiful couple."

Kelsey opens her mouth like she's about to correct her, but I beat her to it.

"Gracias," I say, raising my shot glass to Kelsey.

She rolls her eyes but clinks her glass against mine.

"Salud," she murmurs before downing the shot.

The tequila burns pleasantly down my throat, and I signal the waitress for two more as we look over the menus.

"You speak Spanish?" Kelsey asks, looking genuinely curious.

I shrug. "Enough to get by. Been working on it since I got to Mexico. Needed to for club business."

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Just English and shitty Spanish." I laugh. "You?"

"English, obviously. Some Spanish. And a little Gaelic from my mother."

"Right, of course you have Irish roots." I nod, remembering a slight accent that sometimes slips out, especially when she's emotional. "That explains the fire."

Her eyebrow raises. "The fire?"

"In your eyes," I say, leaning forward slightly. "The way you don't back down from shit. Irish women are fierce, from what I hear."

A small smile plays on her lips. "My mom would certainly agree with that assessment.”

"Was your mom from Ireland, or her parents?"

She forces a smile. "She lived there until she was five, or six, then her parents moved to South Dakota. After South Dakota, they went to Montana."

Our food arrives, along with more tequila shots and two beers.

I dig into my enchiladas while Kelsey picks at her tacos, still not eating much even though I’m telling her she needs to.

Three shots later, her shoulders have finally relaxed, and there's color in her cheeks again.

She's telling me about an article she read, talking about a local cat café.

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