Page 51 of The Biker's Brother

Knox laughed. “Sure you are, too, darlin’.”

She went around to the driver’s side.

“What are you doing?” Brand asked from beside her.

“It’s my turn.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m rested. I’ll take first shift.”

For a minute he thought she might launch a protest. He could see the conflict on her face. But she sighed and walked around to the other side of the car.

Three and a half hours of little traffic and sparse scrub brush later, he was still driving. It seemed the concept of taking turns had escaped him.

As they pulled into Alamagordo, Cami said, “I’m hungry. Let’s at least stop for dinner.” Brandon’s stomach agreed wholeheartedly. “Oh, look. Casa de Rosa. New Mexican food sounds great, doesn’t it?”

“New Mexican food?”

“You’ve never been out of Texas before?” Brandon had to smirk at that. He’d probably logged as many international miles as the Secretary of State. “You thought TexMex was the beginning and end of enchiladas? Then you would be very wrong, my friend.”

Without warning he did a U turn that would make a stunt man proud. He expected Cami to shriek or offer up some respectable expletives, but she giggled instead. He couldn’t suppress the grin that resulted from hearing that sound and he wondered if she’d been a wild thing before Michaels.

“I’m going to eat until I look pregnant,” she said.

“No, you won’t. You’ll nibble at lettuce and complain about fried tortilla chips.”

She laughed that guttural throaty laugh that she saved for special occasions. He hadn’t yet figured out the code of her various sounds of delight, but he was working on it.

“Not today. Today I’m eating melted cheese and guacamole.”

“Guacamole doesn’t count. It’s healthy.”

“Okay. Well I’m also eating meat. Lots of meat. And did I say cheese?”

“You might have mentioned it.”

When he drove past the front door, around to the side, she said, “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Simmer down. Just checking things out.”

He drove around the entire building before deciding to park in the back as he had for breakfast. When they got out of the car, they realized that the ‘warm front’ had arrived. It felt more like a summer day than a New Mexico dusk.

Brand tried the kitchen door and found it open. The kitchen staff looked up with open curiosity. In response, Cami smiled and he shrugged.

They claimed the booth closest to the kitchen door. Again, Brand positioned Cami with her back to the front door and put himself where he could see everything.

The hostess who said okay to them sitting away from all the activity gave them menus and left. After a couple of minutes of looking at the selection, Cami said, “I’m having fajitas al carbon.”

“No. You can’t have fajitas,” Brandon said.

“Why not?”

“Because fajitas are not New Mexican.”

“Sure they are.”

---