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“You think there’s a catch?” His smile hinted at that very probability.
She had five days to pull off this wedding and he was being ten times more agreeable than she could have hoped. She’d ambushed him. She had expected, and was ready for, a fight. He’d been planning to disrupt this wedding for months, and instead of fighting with her, he was in agreement with her.
She wasn’t sure she could trust him, but what choice did she have? She placed her hand in his.
He gripped her firmly. “If—”
“Oh, come on.”
“—you have dinner with me tonight. I’m starving.”
She opened her mouth to refuse him, but before a single word exited her lips, her stomach growled audibly.
Trick chuckled, the warmth of his touch sliding up her arm and curling around her in an entirely comfortable way. He leaned in closer. So close, she could make out each individual hair on his jawline, and the gold flecks dancing in his hazel eyes. His lips parted, his gaze locked with hers...
“That sounds like a yes to me, Rylee Meadows,” he murmured before letting go of her. Then he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Where’s the best sloppy cheeseburger in town?”
Two
The obvious choice for a burger was the Royal diner, but Rylee didn’t trust Trick in such a casual atmosphere. The mere thought of him bantering with the waitress and lounging in the red faux leather booths set her teeth on edge. She didn’t need a challenge tonight. She needed a cocktail.
She handed off the key fob for her borrowed Mercedes to the valet. As she accepted her ticket, Patrick came around to stand behind her.
“Thanks for driving.” He took in the brick exterior and the traditional signage of the restaurant.
“No problem.” Her manners had insisted.
“Shall we?” He offered an arm, which was far more gentlemanly than she would have expected from him. Rather than argue, as dinner was a condition of their freshly minted agreement, she rested her hand on his forearm and allowed him to lead her inside.
Despite the late hour, the restaurant was fairly busy. Not surprising considering the amount of business and pleasure being conducted in town. She would bet there were plenty of opportunists—in addition to Trick—who’d traveled to town to report on the Noble-Ramos wedding.
“The RCW Steakhouse is owned by Rafe Cortez-Williams,” she told Trick as the hostess led them to a table. “The beef they serve comes straight from the family’s cattle ranch.”
“Impressive.”
Once they were seated and large leather-bound menus were handed to each of them, he looked around. She joined him. The table and chairs were made of rich, dark wood, the windows framed by heavy drapes. The style was traditional, but she found the decor soothing rather than stodgy. She’d been born into affluent wealth and was accustomed to country-club chic, in its varying forms.
“This is cozy. I thought you’d opt for a brightly lit diner, but instead you’ve tucked me into a sensual, shadowed corner.” His lips flinched, the smirk at home on his face.
“You said sloppy burger.” She casually scanned the menu. “No one does it better than RCW. Not even the diner.”
“Unpopular opinion?”
“Completely. But I’m an uppity rich girl, so you get what you get.” She slapped the menu closed. She didn’t consider herself “uppity,” but she knew plenty of people who described her family that way. She’d been accused of being particular, a perfectionist and rigid. Her ex-fiancé had labeled her as “too ambitious” before he ended their engagement.
Their waiter arrived and Rylee and Trick put in their food order. He chose a burger with fried onions, pickles and American cheese and she opted for the same, only she added bacon to hers.
“You’re brave,” he said when the waiter left.
“Not used to a woman ordering a cheeseburger?”
“Not one dressed in a buttercream silk dress. You look beautiful in that color, by the way.”
Taken aback by the compliment, she tucked a stray lock of pale blond hair behind her ear. “I’m probably wilting at this point. My hair is falling, my dress is wrinkled. These shoes are well past their expiration date.”
He bent to look beneath the table at her feet. “Those straps seem painful.”
“They are.”
