Page 16 of XOXO, Yours

His grin could light the whole parking lot.

It’s tacos. Nobody ever made a life-altering decision over tacos.

chapter

four

Payton

It’s twelve-thirty in the morning, and I’m eating carne asada with the hottest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

She keeps calling me kid, like somehow that’s going to make me stop wanting her.

It’s not working.

She picks up her taco and tilts her head sideways before taking a bite, and I watch her mouth, which I have no business doing. There’s a streak of green salsa on the side of her thumb, and I want to grab her wrist, pull her hand to my mouth, and lick it off.

I take a drink of my Coke instead, giving my hands something to do besides reach across the table. The ice has mostly melted, so the drink is a little watered down.

“So exactly what do you do?” Jules asks.

“Right now?”

“No, Payton. In the eighteenth century.”

I grin, feel it stretch all the way across my face.

She stares at me; the pendant light over our booth catches gold somewhere in the brown of her irises before her eyes roll shut.

I really like it when she does that—rolls her eyes with exaggerated exasperation—which is fortunate because she does it a lot.

“I work at the ranch.”

“The family ranch.”

“That’s the one.”

“What do you do there?”

I shrug. “Whatever needs doing.”

She frowns. “That’s not a job description.”

“Sure it is.”

“No.” She points a tortilla chip at me. “That’s what men say when they want women to think they’re mysterious.”

“Is it working?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Damn it.

I like her.

I knew I was attracted to her the second I saw her threatening a vending machine. But that part’s just easy.

Jules is gorgeous. Thickly curved in a way that makes it hard not to stare at her boobs and ass. The oversized hoodie helps with the former, and sitting across from her is taking care of the latter. Still, she makes it hard for me to concentrate on anything but how much I want to kiss her.