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He tosses his head back and laughs, and it just rumbles out of his throat, sounding like I imagine whisky might if it had a voice.Other people turn to stare.
“If you can find us something where Mexican and Chinese are in the same place, even better. I can mix and match.”
He smirks. “I know just the place.”
We walk out of the hotel, where he directs me to a black sedan idling at the curb. A man is standing near the back door and opens it when we draw near.
Elliott simply smiles and offers me a hand to help me inside. “Well, this is fancy.” How can he afford this on a bellhop’s salary? I should tell him he doesn’t have to spend his hard-earned money to impress me. “We could have taken a cab or the bus.”
“This is easier.”
We don’t talk much during the drive, but that’s my fault. I’m too busy ogling everything in sight. I’m sure my neck will ache come morning with all the side-to-side action it’s getting so I can see what’s happening out of each side of the vehicle.
The car pulls to the curb about twenty minutes later and comes to a stop. I dip my head to look out the window, curious to see what restaurant he’s chosen for us. But I don’t see one.
“We’ll get out here and walk the rest of the way,” he explains.
“Oh, okay.” Before I can open the door, the driver is there, helping me out.
Elliott climbs out behind me. He nods to the driver. “I’ll text you when we’re on the way back.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I’m not sure what to think, but I am impressed.
Elliott holds out his hand, as though we’ve done this a thousand times. I take it after a moment’s hesitation. His warm fingers wrap around mine, encasing my small hand in his bigger one. Following his lead, we stroll for about a block before approaching an intersection blocked by barricades and a police car.
“I guess we can’t go this way.”
“We’re not crossing.” Elliott takes us around the corner, and I come to a complete stop.
I inhale deeply, feeling the excitement of the street fair before me in the evening air. The sun is setting, painting the sky in beautiful shades of red and orange. Shouts of laughter and conversation fill the air, and the smell of the food trucks, so many food trucks, wafts through the crowd. My stomach grumbles with anticipation as I peer up at Elliott. “This is perfect. What a great idea.” That he’s brought me to such a public place, alleviates my fear of being with a stranger—no matter how handsome he is. “There’s so many choices. What do you think we should get?”
“I think we should we try a little bit of anything you want.”
We weave our way through throngs of people, admiring the various offerings. I can’t help but feel drawn to the Mexican food stands with their bright colors and inviting aromas. Zeroing in on one truck, I increase my pace, eager to get some delicious Mexican food. As we draw closer, the delightful scents of carnitas, tacos, and spicy salsas fill my senses. My mouth waters.
“Do you want to get a few tacos? Or maybe some enchiladas?” Elliott suggests, pointing to the dishes displayed on the menu board.
"Enchiladas sound great.”
He places our order, and we step out of the line and to the side to wait until it’s ready.
Small picnic tables are scattered everywhere. Some have pretty gingham patterned umbrellas, other are solid colors. “Should we find a table?” I ask.
“If you’d like to grab one over there, I’ll wait for our food.”
I find an open spot near the truck, in Elliott’s line of sight, and settle in. He joins me less than ten minutes later with our spread; he’s even added a couple of cold water bottles. I snatch up and unwrap one enchilada, taking a bite, savoring the spiciness on my tongue. “This is amazing. It’s so good.”
When I open my eyes, Elliott is staring at me, or rather, his gaze is locked on my mouth, his eyes dark pools I could drown in. He nods slowly in agreement though he hasn’t even unwrapped his yet.
He clears his throat, and his eyes rise up to meet mine. “I’m glad you like it.”
Heat floods my body in response to the deep sexy timber of his voice. I shove my food into my mouth and smile back, feeling an early connection with this man I don’t even know. It’s far too soon, and besides, my gut instinct regarding men hasn’t worked in my favor. I pull my gaze from his and look around, noticing a Chinese food stand a few feet away. “Time for the next course. How about some dumplings? This time, my treat.”
“I invited you out to dinner.”
“Yes, but I want you to save your money.”
