Delighted and confident that given enough time here, he would be able to convince Matteo of the merits of living in this wonderful small town, Orlando leaned over and clapped his youngest son on the back. “That is wonderful news, my boy. Wonderful.”
Matteo almost felt guilty about his father’s reaction. He wasn’t staying here because of his father. He was going to be hanging around a few extra days or so to see if he could win over the hostess before she succumbed to his sweet-talking brother.
“Yes, well, someone has to protect Horseback Hollow’s unsuspecting women from the likes of him,” Matteo told his father, nodding at his brother.
“And you’ve elected yourself that protector?” Cisco hooted, amusement highlighting his face at his brother’s declaration. “That’s one mighty tall order, little brother.”
“Don’t call me that, Cisco. I’m not your little brother,” Matteo told him.
Cisco’s amusement only grew. “Well, you’re certainly not my big brother, now, are you, Mattie? I am the older one.”
Matteo scowled. “Two years isn’t all that much,” he reminded his brother. And not even a full two years at that, Matteo thought.
“Oh, but it can amount to a lifetime under the right set of circumstances,” Cisco countered with a very mysterious grin that really annoyed Matteo.
Orlando sighed. He had had just about enough. Listening to this back-and-forth banter and bickering required something stronger to drink than just beer, but it was still too early in the day to contemplate downing any hard liquor.
“Might I remind you two boys that you no longer are boys. You are men,” Orlando told his sons. “It is time to take on that responsibility and act accordingly—or do I have to drag you both into a back alley and use my belt on you?”
The truth of it was that their father had never used his belt on either of them in a back alley, or any other area for that matter. But a reply to that declaration was temporarily tabled because Rachel had returned, bringing with her three freshly opened individual bottles of dark beer as well as Matteo’s cheeseburger and the new bowl of chips.
Setting down Matteo’s meal in front of him and placing the bowl of chips in the center of the table, Rachel proceeded to refill the men’s empty beer glasses, beginning with Orlando’s.
“Will there be anything else?” she asked with a gregarious smile as she made the rounds between the three men.
Cisco spoke up unexpectedly. “You could settle an argument for us,” he said.
Instinct had Matteo shoot his brother a silencing look, but it was already too late.
“What kind of an argument?” Rachel wanted to know, filling Cisco’s glass.
“If you had to go out with one of us, which would you choose?” Cisco asked her innocently.
The question seemed to catch her completely off guard, but Rachel managed to recover gracefully without missing a beat.
“That all depends,” she responded, going on to Matteo’s glass.
“On what?” Cisco asked her before Matteo had a chance to.
Her eyes met Matteo’s for one brief and surprisingly intense moment before she looked back at his brother. “On who would ask me first.”
“All right,” Cisco said quickly, making sure that he got the jump on his brother. “Rachel, would you go out with me tonight?”
It all happened so fast that Matteo felt as if he had just been torpedoed—and sunk—by an enemy sub.
“My shift doesn’t end until eight,” Rachel replied, still not giving him a definite answer.
It was her way of stalling. It wasn’t that she wasn’t flattered, because she was—the man who had asked her out just now was every bit as good-looking as his brother—and it wasn’t that she was trying to play hard to get, because she wasn’t. The reason she was stalling was because she was hoping that the one who had really caught her attention, the cute younger brother, who had come to her defense earlier at the other table, would put in his two cents and ask her out, as well. Then she knew who she’d pick.
But from what she could see, the one she had heard referred to as “Matteo” seemed to fold up his tent and just withdraw, allowing his brother to have total access to the entire playing field.
In this case, that meant her, Rachel thought.
“Perfect,” Cisco was saying, referring to when her shift ended. “I’ll be waiting out front.”
Ever since she’d left her home in Austin five years ago, Rachel had been somewhat leery when it came to dating. She’d already gone through her ugly-duckling period and her swan period, during which time she had preened and posed, absorbing each and every flattering word that was sent her way, and viewing it as gospel.
But in time she had learned that those compliments were just empty, meaningless words, easily spoken and even more easily forgotten. She had more important things on her agenda than dating these days. She was busy not just finding herself, but also finding her place in the scheme of things.
Her place in the world.
She was working here as a hostess, but she had recently won an internship at the new Horseback Hollow office of the Fortune Foundation, which had opened its doors several weeks ago. As of yet, the office was still not fully up and running, but she intended to be there right from the start, learning everything she could from the ground up.
Her plan was to make something of herself.
To that end, she was going to continue with both positions, amassing as much money as she could. Her father had offered to support her when she’d left home, as he well could, but she had refused his money. She wanted to make it on her own so that no one else could take the credit—or the blame—for what she had become. It would be all on her, one way or another.
She might not appear so to the patrons seated here at the Cantina, but she was fiercely dedicated, not to mention full of pride.
Ordinarily, this sort of a work agenda would leave a person with no room for anything else, but she knew that having some sort of a social life was important. She supposed this “date” tonight qualified as just that.
She would have preferred being asked out by the younger hunk, but the one who did ask her out wasn’t exactly shabby, either. Who knew? Maybe she would wind up having a better time with him than Mr. Cheeseburger, she mused.
So Rachel nodded and gave the man who had just asked her out a smile.
“All right, if we’re going to go out, I’m going to need to know your name,” she told him.
Cisco inclined his head in a polite, surprisingly formal bow as he said, “Francisco Mendoza at your service.” Raising his eyes to hers, he added, “Everybody calls me Cisco.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to join the crowd,” she told him. With that, she looked at the other two occupants of the table. “Since I’m taking names, you are—” she asked Matteo.
“A day late and a dollar short,” Cisco supplied before Matteo could answer her.
If looks could kill, the one that Matteo slanted at him would have completely vaporized Cisco in under ten seconds. The scowl abated somewhat as he turned to look at the hostess and told her, “Matteo Mendoza.”
“And I am Orlando Mendoza,” Orlando told her. In typical old-fashioned, courtly manner, Orlando rose slightly in his chair and bent forward so that he could take her hand in his. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it as per the custom of his ancestors.
Rather than appear amused, Rachel looked touched and just slightly