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Hank Layton surveyed the late dinner crowd at Juanita’s, munching away on enchiladas and plates loaded with puffed-up tortilla chips covered in frijoles, melted cheese, guacamole and jalapeños. His stomach growled as if he hadn’t eaten in a year.
“Hey ya, sheriff. Just you today?” The Juanita of Juanita’s strode up to him armed with a menu he knew by heart.
“Just me. Can you put me in the back room?”
“Trying to avoid the ladies elbowing each other out of line to be the next Mrs. Layton?”
“Not quite.” He lowered his voice. “It’s my mom.”
“What is it this time?” she asked.
“Founders Day is coming up–”
“Got you working overtime, huh?”
“The woman is a slave driver and she sees it as the perfect opportunity to grill me about grandkids.”
Juanita shook her head knowingly. “For most people, I’d say what’s wrong with a mama who’s concerned with her children, but for you, I say I have the perfect table. Come on.”
He followed her through the cramped dining area, past the Mexican flag depicted in neon light and into an area that was more of a large alcove than a separate room. She handed him a menu and waved him in before scurrying to the kitchen, presumably for chips and salsa.
The back room held four two-person tables. A woman occupied one.
Beth Martinez sat with her back to him with her I'm-a-serious-lawyer jacket slung haphazardly over the back of the chair. The strands of her normally silky-smooth, long brown hair stuck up at odd angles. She sighed and slouched lower in her seat.
He’d known Beth since she and his little sister Claire became Girl Scouts together in second grade, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her looking so…lost. The Mexican-themed red and yellow lamps put a spotlight on the faint tremble of Beth's shoulders. All huddled up and turned away, her body language said “leave me alone”, but he couldn't. Something more than common decency, he didn't know what, pushed him toward her table.
“Hey there.”
Her head shot up. Even with the barrier of her glasses, he could tell she’d been crying. She took a quick swipe at a cheek with the back of her hand.
“Mind if I join you? I hate eating by myself.” He turned up the charm wattage on his smile when she eyed the exit. “Come on, I’ll buy your dinner and we’ll call it even from all the times I stole your Ring Dings when you and Claire had sleepovers.”
One side of her mouth curled upward. “I always wondered which one of you brothers stole them.”
He held up his right hand. “Guilty as charged. So I’ll make it up.” He sat down in the free chair at her table.
This time her smile involved her whole mouth. “Have a seat.”
Eyeing her still closed menu, he settled back against the seat. “Good, you haven’t ordered yet. How hungry are you? Because I’m starving.”
As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Famished.”
“Are you woman enough for the Double Date?” He laughed when she gave him the side eye. “On the menu.”
She flipped open her menu, traced a finger down the list of entrees, paused for a moment and arched her eyebrows. “Three chimichangas, four enchiladas, a double order of rice and beans and sopapillas for dessert. Are you kidding?”
“Come on, live life on the wild side.”
“You’d have to roll me out of here afterward.”
Hank looked, really looked, at Beth. Even though she sat, he knew her body was long and lean, with muscular thighs and an ass you could play quarters on. Shit, he’d known that since coming home after a four-year, post-college stint in the Marines. She’d been twenty years old with hair down to her waist and the sweetest little strut he’d ever seen. The woman had been—and still was—a knockout. But there was something more to her now than when she was barely legal, some extra air of…hell, he couldn’t describe it, but it sure made his dick sit up and take notice.
“I doubt that, you’re looking fine.” His gaze roamed her light brown skin, locking in on the small patch of lace peeking out from the scoop-necked shirt she’d been tugging on. “More than fine, really.”
“Uh…thanks.” She fidgeted with her menu then stuffed her hands in her lap.
Oh hell. What was he doing? This was his little sister’s best friend, practically a second sister since she’d spent so much time at their house while growing up. Beth was not a possible fuck buddy, which was all he wanted or needed.
