Page 16 of Cowboy of Convenience
Evelyn took the beer but didn't drink any. "Why haven't you eaten yet today?"
"I spent the day out at my family's ranch. Didn't have time." He went to the little table and started pulling foam boxes from a plastic bag. The enticing aroma intensified as soon as he popped the lid on the first one. "I got some enchiladas," he set them down before moving onto the next box, "some soft tacos," he placed them beside the enchiladas, "and an order of beans and rice." He added the last of the three large boxes with a sidelong glance, like he was trying to gauge her reaction. "Then we've got toppings." He unpacked a few smaller containers before pulling out one final box. "And tres leches cake."
If she was ever going to fall in love with a man, showing up with tacos and cake might be what made it happen. Lucky for her, love was never part of the plan. Not her grandmother’s, and not hers.
"Where is there a Mexican restaurant around here?" Evelyn headed straight for the table, dropping down into one of the chairs as Grady took the other.
Grady tore open the bag of complimentary chips before prying the lid from the accompanying salsa. "Technically, it's not in Moss Creek. There’s a little hole-in-the-wall place right on the edge of the next town over. It's a little out of the way, but worth it."
Evelyn shoved the tines of a plastic fork through its wrapper and dug into the enchiladas, eyes rolling back on a soft moan as flavorful ground beef and savory sauce hit her tongue. "Oh my gosh. This is so good."
When she opened her eyes, Grady was studying her. His gaze dropped to focus on the rice. "I'm glad you like it."
She rubbed her lips together, trying to convince herself there wasn't something more than mild interest in his eyes before they left hers. Honestly, it wouldn't matter if Grady really was interested in her. It definitely didn't matter that she was interested in him. Her choices in life were limited, even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit it and throw in the towel.
She’d hoped acting out might lead her grandmother to realize she wasn't going to be falling in line but, based on their conversation the day before, that wasn't the case.
Not yet anyway.
Evelyn snagged one of the tacos, sprinkling on some lettuce and tomato before taking a bite. It was just as amazing as the enchiladas, but this time she stifled any sort of response she had.
Keeping Grady at arm's length was no longer an option, not unless she wanted Sasha to discover she was single, but there still had to be lines between them. Very firm ones.
But establishing them could wait. At least until after dinner. No reason to ruin good tacos with depressing conversations, so she opted for something more benign.
"You've lived here your whole life, right?" When Grady nodded she continued. "You probably know about all the little places like this then."
Grady leaned back in his seat, drinking a little more of his beer. "You on the hunt for something specific?"
Evelyn took another bite of enchilada, savoring it before swallowing. "Anything besides diner food and pizza." She lifted up one hand. "Don't get me wrong, I love The Wooden Spoon and pizza, but I would kill for something more interesting."
"Like what?" Grady pressed her for more, looking surprisingly interested in hearing her answer.
The people she dealt with in New York all thought they knew her, the men especially. They were plenty happy taking only what she offered, which was a little fun with no strings attached. It kept things simple. Neat and tidy. And it pissed her grandmother all the way off to watch her build a less than stellar reputation.
But, as angry as she was, her grandmother seemed to remain hellbent on getting Evelyn back under her thumb and forcing her to follow in the family footsteps.
Evelyn shoved down the thoughts of her overbearing grandmother and scooted closer to the table, hoping to avoid ruining her appetite. "Well, I love Mexican." She filtered through all the amazing food she’d enjoyed while living in New York, fishing for the ones that stood out the most. "Indian might be my second favorite."
Grady's brows lifted. "Really? I’ve never had it."
"It's amazing." Evelyn closed her eyes, going back to the little place around the corner from her loft. "The combination of spices is unlike anything else."
When she opened her eyes, Grady was watching her again, eyes carrying an intensity she felt everywhere.
Everywhere.
Maybe those lines had to be dug into the sand now after all.
"You can't stay here forever." The words were harder to push free than she expected.
"Why not?" Grady seemed unbothered by the sudden shift in conversation.
"Well,” a vision of Grady stretched across her couch in his blue jeans threatening to derail her, “because you just can't. We're not really together and you have a whole life to live." She forked in another bite of enchilada, hoping to get it down before her stomach rebelled. "And at some point somebody from town is going to notice your truck parked in my driveway every night and they’ll think..."
Grady leaned closer, resting one elbow against the table. "They'll think, what?"
"They'll think we’re really together." Evelyn whispered the last part, like someone might overhear it.
