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I helped Rae into my truck with more care than I’d used to hand my date into the car on prom night. And taking Shellia Wright to prom had been a highlight of my high school career. I kissed Rae’s cheek before shutting the door and rushing to the driver’s side.
“So, where are you taking me for my sunrise breakfast tacos?” she asked as we pulled onto the ranch road.
“The north pasture.”
“Is that a restaurant I’ve not found in Elmer?”
“No, it’s literally the north cow pasture.” I chuckled. “We host breakfast for our harvest crew and the temp people we brought in, a thank you for working the long hours overnight. The manager before me started it. He and the winemaker we had before Gabe attended one in a small vineyard in Spain. They loved the idea and gave the tradition a Texas twist. I’ve kept it going.”
We parked in the line of pickups near the hilltop grove of trees where we held the breakfast every year. The gnarled oaks made the perfect shelter for the hastily constructed sawhorse trestle tables. The view of the sunrise over the pasture was one of the best at Blue Star.
The breakfast was not only for the crew but also for their families, so a mix of men, women, and a handful of half-asleep kids were already in the grove. Country music played from a portable speaker sitting on the tailgate of a Blue Star pickup.
I helped Rae from my truck and put an arm around her shoulder. My stride naturally shortened to match hers, and it reminded me of the other times I walked with her like this. It was amazing the small things I noticed moving beside her, like how the hair tucked behind her ear curled around and caressed her jaw.
“How did I not know about this?” She craned her neck, scoping out the impromptu party location.
“You had enough to worry about with The Stomp and the dancehall. My crew has put on the breakfast for years.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a big thing: a few coolers stocked with everything from beer to OJ, setting up the tables, and one phone call to Elena Perez. She handled all the food. My mouth was already watering at the smell of the chorizo browning on her flat-top grill.
The first to notice us was Jameson. He tipped his hat and gave Rae a wink before turning back to the taco in his hand. He must have told the group he sat with not to look at us, because the entire table took turns trying to sneak covert peeks.
I lifted her hand and kissed the back.
“Do they think we can’t see them staring?” Rae gripped my arm and jutted her chin at the table of gawkers.
“It’s me. I’m wearing a new hat.” I hit her with a full-strength heartbreaker smile.
“Lie. I know this hat.” She snatched it off my head and plopped it on her own.
“And I love seeing it on your head.” New fantasy. Rae wearing my hat, her white shirt, her boots, and nothing else.
Laughing, I led her to the end of the line for tacos. I slipped my arm off her shoulders, found her hand, and lifted it to my lips to kiss the back. It was liberating having everyone see us together. No more sly looks and whispered innuendos.
Elena Perez with her son—not Manny, the other one, Antonio—and her daughter, Mary, were building breakfast tacos to order. The smells of roasted potatoes, eggs, and chorizo combined with handmade corn tortillas charring on the grill reminded me I was starving.
“This all looks delicious.” Rae took in the spread.
“Texas breakfast tacos are the perfect food. Soft fluffy potato, protein from the eggs, spicy chorizo, and a pinch of cheese. Elena’s homemade tortillas make all the difference. I’ve seen Jameson eat half a dozen in one sitting.” I reclaimed my hat from Rae before it slipped down over her eyes.
“I think two will be more than enough for me.” She leaned against my chest, and I kissed her cheek. Dating the hell outta Rae might be the best thing I’d ever done.
“So you two came… together?” Gabe stood a few feet back from us with a wary expression on his face. I didn’t blame him. He’d seen the meltdown of our arrangement firsthand.
“Yes.” I slid my hand up to Rae’s nape, giving it a soft squeeze.
“It’s a date.” She smiled at me.
“Our first.” And no way I’d let it be our last. I had this. Call me Mister Romance.
Gabe looked back and forth between us about four times more than seemed necessary to understand the situation, then smiled. “That’s outstanding.” He patted me on the back.
My stupid jealousy had vanished. I was the one holding Rae’s hand, and that was what counted.
“It definitely is,” Rae said.
“You two sure picked a busy weekend to make it official. The Elmer gossipmongers will be working overtime.” Gabe yawned, and my yawn forced its way free in sympathy. We’d both been up most of the last three nights.
“What else gossip worthy is going on this weekend besides The Stomp?” Rae gathered up a paper plate and napkin from the table.
