Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Dex
I ’d helped Meyer move his things in over the weekend—what little he had until his other belongings arrived—and now we were back at my house cooking up some quick burgers on the grill. As he flipped the patties, I stole a peek at his nicely rounded ass that was meant to live in a pair of tight jeans.
Or the palms of my hands .
It turned out to be fortunate that Meyer didn’t have much to move in. We’d spent most of our time fooling around. And since he didn’t have a mattress or much in the way of furniture either, he’d been staying with me. I took a long pull on my beer. Yeah, I didn’t have a problem with that.
Meyer peeked over his shoulder. “Do you like a little pink in your meat?”
I snorted beer through my nose, then bent over, coughing and choking until I could barely breathe. Once again, I was being smacked on the back by my dream date to be kept from passing out. I needed to come up with a new schtick. This one would get old real fast.
“S-sorry.” I coughed once more in my fist and wobbled on my feet.
Meyer grabbed my arm. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you settled before you face plant on the cement.” He chuckled. “See? I’m still taking care of you.”
I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but I hoped it wasn’t a dig. I’ve always been a tad too sensitive, prone to bursts of unnecessary hurt feelings. Most of the time, it was me taking something the wrong way. This certainly explained how my perception of mine and Meyer’s relationship in high school had become so twisted in my addled brain.
Meyer rubbed my shoulder, and I peered up at him from where I sat on the patio chair.
“Sorry again. I have a feeling your question is pointless now.”
He drew his eyebrows together. “Huh?”
I pointed to the burgers. “I sense we’ve reached well-done at this point.”
Meyer‘s jaw dropped, and he rushed over to the grill before sliding the spatula beneath each burger and depositing them on a plate. He turned to me and laughed.
“Food’s ready.”
I laughed along as he brought the patties over. He’d made some of his jalapeno chile lemonade earlier, and it was already in a pitcher on the wrought-iron table with the frosted glass top that was a part of my childhood history. I made a mental note to scrape off the peeling paint, wipe away the rust, and repaint it. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to let it go untended. I was finding myself getting the urge to spruce the place up.
Meyer sat close to me like he’d been doing at every meal. “I think we have everything,” he said, handing me the hamburger buns. “Oh, wait. I didn’t bring out the pickles.”
The way one eyebrow dipped slightly lower than the other, his lashes that were curled a bit too much for such a masculine man, and the tip of his tongue running across the edge of his front teeth when he concentrated very hard made me crazy. As if my heart might burst out of my chest at how perfect he was, and how he was here, next to me, in my home, and we were sharing a meal as if we were family.
My breath caught, and I lowered my head. I needed to slow my roll, not expect anything from him. We were getting to know each other as adults, figuring out what our new relationship meant. Now was the time to enjoy ourselves—and there’d been no shortage of enjoyment. We couldn’t keep our paws off each other.
Meyer had been taking inventory of all the burger condiments and toppings and seemed to have reached a conclusion as he rose from the table.
“Unless you can think of anything else, the only thing missing seems to be the pickles.”
I smiled at him. “I’ve got everything I need.”
A flash of something passed over his features then the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile as well. “Me too. I’ll be right back.”
By the time he returned, my hunger drove all other thoughts from my mind, and we dug in. It had been a grueling day for us both. The morning began with helping Cal and one of the hands capture a naughty cow escapee. Then Meyer and I stole into town for my usual morning pastry and coffee run.
The rest of the day for me revolved around preparing the winter pastures. Getting the bigger tasks taken care of before the fiesta meant pushing myself even harder than usual. I was pretty beat, but Meyer always managed to perk me up in the best of ways.
I licked some ketchup from the side of my mouth and caught Meyer staring. Since I found myself doing the same to him all the time, I could hardly complain. He winked.
“We got so, uh, sidetracked the other night, we never finished our conversation about Kayla. She’ll be coming soon, though, right? We’ve been doing a lot to get ready for the fiesta.” He started fixing himself a second burger. “The crew is all hands on deck that weekend. We’ll need a team at the firehouses and a team downtown on standby for emergencies.”
I nodded. “I’m sure the chief told you about the incident with the churro cart getting knocked over last year, catching that bale of hay on fire?”
Meyer rolled his eyes. “Yup. It’s a good thing they were right there before it got out of control. What were those two cowboys fighting about? I never got that part of the story out of him.”
I held in a snort with limited success. “Actually, it was one of my guys here and a rival for Jessica Montgomery’s attention from another ranch.”
Meyer furrowed his brow. “Remind me?”
“You know, Jessica? The head cheerleader from your senior year.” My cheeks heated.
Meyer shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Why are you assuming I’d remember someone I haven’t seen for ten years without some context?”
I did my best to keep my expression flat. “No reason.” I was both fidgeting and failing to appear unruffled. I sighed. “Okay, I might’ve been assuming all these years that you guys were an item back then.”
Meyer groaned. “I thought we went over this already. I wasn’t pawing cheerleaders or anyone else in high school.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know, I know. I still catch myself remembering how I assumed things were before you set me straight.”
Meyer mock gasped. “Oh no. Please tell me I didn’t make you straight.”
“Har har.” I pursed my lips, passing him the ketchup bottle. “Anyway, I know you’ll have a lot to handle during the fiesta.”
He closed the ketchup bottle then elbowed me. “We’re getting sidetracked again. Kayla? Did you tell her about my reappearance?” My face flushed hot once more, and he barked out a laugh. “Guess that answers my question. That’s cool. It’ll be nice to see her again.”
“Uh… Actually, she’s not coming home this year for the fiesta.”
Meyer’s brow wrinkled. “Really? Mom said she was looking forward to getting some of the family salsa. Didn’t she tell you the other night that she wanted four jars?”
I smacked my forehead. The fiesta was only a few weeks away, and I still hadn’t broken the news to the fiesta committee that we wouldn’t need that booth after all. And I might’ve been taking preorders still because my cojones went missing every time I had to disappoint people. Instead, I was only making it worse by putting off the inevitable. Not only that, everyone would blame poor Kayla when it was actually her brother who was the giant screw-up.
Meyer regarded me with a concerned expression and put his burger down. “Hey, Dex. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, man. I’m such a wimp. I haven’t been able to work up the nerve to tell the fiesta committee that I’m canceling. Plus, not only has your mom ordered salsa, but half the town did as well. They’ve been pouring in since after the Fourth of July celebration, same way they do every year. It’s a freakin’ staple of the fiesta.” I dropped my head in my hands. “It never occurred to me that Kayla might not show up. Everyone’s going to be so disappointed, and I haven’t had the nerve to face it yet.”
Meyer appeared to be in deep thought as I told my wretched story. He rubbed his stubbled chin between thumb and forefinger, his eyebrows dipping low as if he were solving a complicated math problem.
“Do you have the recipe for the salsa?”
“Uh… Maybe? But I guess I could always get it from Kayla. If nothing else, she’d know where Mom kept it.”
Meyer tilted his head. “You don’t know where the cookbooks or anything like that are kept?”
I picked at the edges of lettuce sticking out from my burger. As I worked on making them perfectly even with the bun, I tamped down the flurry of emotions trying to escape me. The cookbooks stuffed with scraps of paper marking a favorite dish, or index cards with handwritten recipes—many with spots and stains from spilled ingredients—were a roadmap of my childhood.
I hadn’t dared to search for them after she passed. I couldn’t bear it.
“They’re probably in the hutch or one of the kitchen cabinets.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sure Kayla knows.”
Meyer gave me a soft smile, laying his hand on top of mine. “I’m sure she does. In which case, why can’t you make the salsa? I’ll help you.” He chuckled. “It can be a joint project.” He straightened. “Hey, I know. What if I make my chile lemonade, too? We can have both at the booth.”
He was being so sweet, and I appreciated his offer. But still…
“That’s really cool of you to want to help, but I don’t think I’m the fiesta booth type.”
Meyer laughed. “There’s a type?”
I shrugged. “You know. Jolly and salesy.”
He laughed harder. “What the heck is salesy?”
“Like a used car salesman. Buy my stuff! Get the best salsa this side of the Roswell crash site at unbelievable savings!” I wrinkled my nose. “Nope. Not for me.”
Meyer was laughing so hard that he was bent over holding his middle. “Stop, you’re killing me. Not on a full stomach.”
“Sorry. But you can see why it’s a bad idea.”
“No, I can’t,” he said while wiping a finger under each eye. “You told me you’ve been taking orders since summer. I don’t think selling the stuff is going to be an issue.” He smiled. “I’ll help you make the salsa and maybe set up and tear down. I can’t be there to help you man the booth, but we can figure something out.”
“I dunno, Meyer. I’m not exactly Mr. Personality.”
Meyer grinned. “You’re amazing. But I think what you’re trying to say is that you’re on the shy side.”
I frowned. “I’m not shy. I’m just not very good at chit-chat. Like I said, I don’t know how to be a salesperson. And I’m not about to prattle on about how remarkable our family’s salsa is. Especially not to the strangers that come to town for the fiesta.”
“No prattling?” Meyer poked me. “Such a shame.”
“Stop.” I frowned. “I mean it. The whole thing makes me uncomfortable.”
“I’m teasing you.”
Meyer nibbled on my ear lobe, and tiny sparks of electricity danced down my spine. He snaked his arm around my waist, and our metal chairs clanked together.
“You’re definitely teasing me now.” I tried to keep my tone stern, but it was impossible with him so close, so enticing, so mine.
“Good. That’s what I was going for.” He grasped my chin and encouraged me to face him. “Hey, let’s talk to mom about it. She’s not participating in much at the fiesta this year, and I could tell she was disappointed. Several people in town are treating her with kid gloves, so she’s been left out. I bet she’d love to help you man the booth.”
My heart ached for Lindy. I knew how it felt to be overlooked. “Yeah? I don’t want to take advantage.”
Meyer shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can pay her in salsa if it makes you feel better.”
“Well…” I was running out of reasons not to give in. “Only if she really wants to do it.”
“She’ll be thrilled that someone asked her to help.” Meyer stopped feasting on my ear and was now nibbling on my neck. I sensed that neither one of us would be finishing our second burger.
“You have tomorrow off, right?”
Meyer abruptly stopped his nibbling. “Yeah. Did you want to make salsa?”
Ugh. That’s right . If I went through with this wacky idea, I was going to have to actually make the stuff.
“Uh, not especially. Plus, we’ll have to carve out a time to harvest the cactus pads. But I was thinking we could take a trail ride over by the Butte. The creek bed might still be pretty dry, but there are some big rocks we can climb on, have a picnic, or whatever.”
Meyer’s eyes hooded, and he gave me a half-grin. “I like the sound of whatever. Let’s do it.”
Whatever sounded way more entertaining than salsa-making.