He scrubbed at his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the hammock. “No, I’m good. Just groggy.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“What time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
“Shit. I’m late to meet Caitlyn at her mom’s house for dinner tonight.” He glanced at me. “Want to join us? Pretty sure Molly won’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass. Think I’ll just grab some tacos and crash out.”
No offense to Caitlyn’s mother, but she wasn’t the one I wanted to flirt with.
“Okay,” Branson said. “Damn, I’m a little jealous. Taco Loco is so good.”
“Yeah? I haven’t been there.”
“Make sure you get the sampler platter. You won’t be sorry. Caitlyn loves their guac too.” He sighed. “Now I wish I was going with you.”
“Don’t tell your bride that,” I teased. “She might be offended.”
“Yeah, family duty calls,” he said. “I’ll be glad when we’re done planning the wedding. Every meal turns into Molly grilling us about our plans and suggesting changes we don’t want to make.”
I grimaced. “No fun. But, you know, at least she’s not harassing you to give her grandbabies yet.”
“Yet?”
“It’s coming right after the wedding, bro. You better prepare yourself.”
He groaned. “Great. Well, on that note, I guess I’ll head to my last supper.”
I laughed. “You only wish it was your last supper. You’ve signed up for this for life!”
He flipped me the bird over his shoulder as he went out the door. It was mean to torment him, but hell, I didn’t have a lot else going for me right now. Still chuckling to myself, I closed up the store and set the alarm, then climbed into my pickup and headed for Taco Loco.
It was a sit-down restaurant, but I wasn’t in the mood to dine alone. I had good self-confidence, but that was just too sad. I’d just go in and have a drink at the bar while I waited for a to-go order.
A rush of sound greeted me as I stepped inside: upbeat Mariachi music, the chatter of many voices, and the clinking of forks on plates and the scrape of chairs over tile. It was a little overwhelming after a day of mostly silence at the store.
But the aromas had me eagerly stepping toward the bar. Savory spices, sizzling beef and chicken, fresh tomatoes and peppers. My mouth started watering.
The bartender wasn’t bad either. Rugged, with long, unruly hair and a disarming smile he must use to get great tips. I took a seat in front of him.
“Hey,” he said. “Branson, right?”
“Bryson,” I corrected. “Twin.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. I didn’t realize. Well, that must be cool.”
“Eh, it has its pros and cons. Switching places as kids to avoid classes we hated was pretty cool. Getting mixed upwhen we don’t want to be? Less so. It kind of fucked up everything with the guy I was trying to date.”
He raised his eyebrows. “This seems like a story. How about I get you a drink and you tell me everything?”
“Just get me a beer on tap. Something malty.”
“Got it.”
“I’d like to put in a takeout order too. For the taco sampler?”
