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My heart swells as everything falls into place. We belong together. “I love you, Paxton.”
“Officer Turner,” the blond hostess bellows, her glossy pink lips almost touching her heavily eye-shadowed eyes as soon as we walk through the front door. She looks at me for a brief second with a confused expression before turning her attention back to him. How long ago was he here with his ex? “Does Jose know you’re coming in?” she asks.
“He doesn’t. Last-minute dinner plans,” he replies.
“Let me go find him. He’ll love to see you.”
“You don’t have to…” His words trail off as she darts away. “Do that.”
I stare at him, wondering why he looks uncomfortable. Is this about to get awkward? Is Jose his ex-girlfriend’s dad? After a quick sigh, he explains, “Last year, when I was having dinner here, a disgruntled employee came in swinging a gun around and threatened to shoot the owner. I neutralized the threat before he could do anything.”
Is that when she became his ex?
“Did you have to shoot him?” I whisper, not able to imagine sitting in a restaurant, having a nice dinner, then having to jump up and stop a shooter. Is this one reason he asked if I could handle him being a police officer? I can see how that could scare off a potential partner. Even though I already told him I didn’t care that he was a police officer, it’s one thing to understand the risks in theory and another to have a front-row seat when he has to confront them head-on.
He shakes his head. “I talked him down, convinced him it wasn’t worth going to jail the rest of his life.” He reaches for my hand, searching my face for any apprehension. “It’s a lot when your dinner date might have to turn into…well, something out of an action movie.”
I squeeze his hand. “I already know that you’re a hero, so it doesn’t surprise me. If anything, it makes me feel safer with you, knowing you can handle these intense situations.”
“Paxton!” The voice cuts through the busy restaurant, deep and resonating. Everyone’s attention turns to him, then our way to see who he’s yelling at. I watch as a stocky man with a bushy mustache and bright, flushed red cheeks, wearing a well-worn apron rushes toward us. His arms are flung open wide in anticipation, and when he reaches Paxton, he pulls him in for a robust hug. Paxton pats him on the back a couple times.
“Jose, it’s great to see you.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming in. I would’ve saved the best table for you,” he says in a heavy Mexican accent, mixed in with the kind of warmth that feels like home. “It’s been far too long.” He shifts his attention to me, his smile extending its warmth my way. His smile is infectious, and I find myself returning it. “And who is this lovely lady?”
Paxton introduces me, and when he refers to me as his girlfriend, butterflies flutter in my stomach.
As we follow Jose through the bustling restaurant, it’s obvious he bumped us to the front of the waitlist. I understand why, but none of those people do. I push back the awkward feelings, instead taking in the vibrant colors and lively atmosphere. The chatter of diners, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional laughter create a symphony of sounds that make the place feel alive.
Jose leads us to a cozy table nestled in the corner where the lighting is softer and the noise muted. He pulls out a chair for me and then turns to Paxton with a conspiratorial wink. Paxton chuckles, shaking his head.
An apologetic smile plays on Paxton’s lips after he strolls away. “He’s a character.”
“I can see how much he adores you.”
Our server wanders up and places a bottle of Blue Moon in front of him, leaving me puzzled because we haven’t ordered yet. Then she looks at me and asks if I’d like something to drink. I order my Mexican martini. When she walks away, I shoot Paxton a quizzical look.
“Regular here?” I inquire.
He gives a vague nod, taking a pull from his beer. He wasn’t kidding when he said this was one of his ex’s favorite restaurants. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know why, but I have so many questions about her. How long were they together? What was she like? What does she look like? All questions I shouldn’t ask but want to. Thankfully, my drink arrives—a pleasant distraction to get my mind off his ex.
“Look at this email I received today.” I pull out my phone and search for the message. “It’s a producer interested in creating a documentary about me on Netflix. How one escapes six feet under, were his words.” I pass the phone to him.
He reads it and then looks up from the phone. “Be careful. Most of these are scams,” he remarks, echoing my initial thoughts, but I looked the guy up. He’s a legit producer who has done other docuseries. But it doesn’t matter how real he is, I don’t want to be in the spotlight.
“I know,” I reply, taking back my phone. “I wouldn’t do it anyway. Not with him still out there.”
Our conversation takes a pause when a server places a basket of chips in between us and two small bowls of salsa. I grab a chip and dip it before the guy can walk away. Yep, this was a damn good idea. We didn’t have a Tex-Mex restaurant in Blackburn, and I was cheated out of something my entire life.
“How was school today?”
“School,” I reply dryly, making him chuckle. “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard. I barely scraped by passing my math test. It makes me wonder if college is for me.”
“My motto was D is for degree,” he quips.
Now, it’s my turn to laugh.
“I hated school, so I feel you. But it’ll be worth it in the long run. At least that’s what my grams always told me.”
