Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
He shivered. “I can do that.”
“I know you can.”
He squeezed my hand. “Thank you. For sharing this with me.”
“I’ve never wanted to share it with anyone else. As you can see, too many people know about it already. I just hope they don’t run out of beef tongue before we get to the front of the line.”
Riley grimaced. “I’m not sure…”
“Trust me. I’ll order a variety of things for you to try.”
I could see the surrender as his shoulders relaxed. Then he mouthed the words, Yes, Daddy.
I placed a double order of all my favorites, and we took them to a park bench. I was grateful for the milder-than-expected weather. I didn’t want to chance the tacos getting cold on the way to our hotel. The last time I’d been in town, I was so impatient for them I’d stood there in hundred-degree heat, sweat dripping off me, enjoying every bite.
I picked up one of the tacos and handed it to Riley. “Try this one.”
He studied it carefully. “What’s in it?”
“Just try it.” He still hesitated, so I pitched my voice very low. “Boy, eat your taco.”
He grinned and took a big bite. A second later, he moaned, and my body liked the sound way too much.
“That’s incredible,” he said as soon as he finished chewing.
“I told you.”
“How many of these did you get?”
“Four, but two of them are mine.”
He smiled at me, that bright boyish grin that threatened to make me melt every time.
“Maybe I could pay you for them with special favors.”
“Maybe you could get your ass in line to buy some more for yourself.”
He gave me a mock scowl.
“You’ll enjoy the other ones too. Trust me.”
He polished off the rest of the taco, and as hungry as I was, all I did was watch him. The joy on his face was almost as satisfying as the amazing food.
“This is tongue, isn’t it?” he asked when he was done.
“It sure is.”
“How is it so fucking fantastic?” he asked, after taking a sip of his soda.
“The family that runs this truck are geniuses.”
“What’s in the other ones?”
“Carne asada.” I pointed to the paper tray that held them. “And carnitas.”
As I’d hoped, Riley liked those just as much as the ones made with tongue, and it made me even happier than I expected to have shared my favorite food truck with him. When we polished off every bite, we tossed the paper tray and napkins in a nearby trashcan. I suggested we take a walk since it was such a nice day.
“That sounds perfect,” Riley said. “I can’t believe I was nervous about this trip.”
“You want to know a secret?”
“Of course.”
This time, it was easier to be vulnerable with him. “I was nervous about coming into the city too.”
“You were?” He sounded so surprised. Did I really have him that fooled?
“I don’t do time off, remember? I don’t relax or take things slow. I wasn’t sure if I even knew how to anymore.”
“Trust me. You do.”
As we started to walk, Riley brushed his fingers against mine. I sensed he was asking if I was willing to hold hands again, so I reached for him. “I would do this back on the ranch if it weren’t for your father.”
“You would?” I could hear the shock in his voice.
“I’m out, Riley. I don’t hide who I am. Sure some of the men I work with don’t like it, but they respect me, and if I think they don’t, I send them packing.”
“Did you always want to work on a ranch?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I went through a short phase of wanting to be a firefighter when I was probably five or six, and right after I broke my arm falling off a horse when I was nine, I wanted to be a doctor, but I always loved the idea of running a ranch.”
“And you never worked any other jobs?”
I shook my head. “Even as a teenager I worked in a horse barn part-time, and once I graduated high school, my first job was as a ranch hand. My mom wanted me to stay in school, but she knew that was my passion, so she supported me in it.”
Riley sighed. “That would be awesome, having somebody that wanted you to do what made you happy.”
“It is. I’m sorry you don’t have that from your family, but”—it was hard to say the next words when all I could think about was how much I wanted him to stay with me—“I want you to do what makes you happy.”
“Even though that means me leaving the ranch?”
I squeezed his hand and tugged him closer to me. “I don’t want you to leave, but your father’s not really giving you a choice, and I’d rather you leave and be happy than stay and be miserable.”
“Blake?” he stopped walking, and I maneuvered us off the path before I turned to face him.