hope you’re hungry,” she said, as she transferred dishes from the tray. “Huevos Rancheros,” she said, identifying each food item as she arranged it in front of him. “Roasted new potatoes, fresh fruit with a light poppyseed dressing and sopaipillas with butter and honey.”
Tucking the tray beneath her arm, she reached for the carafe. “If you need anything,” she said after topping off his coffee, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
She waited until the swinging door closed behind her, then set aside the tray and headed straight for the sink, anxious to put the kitchen back in order. Elbow deep in suds, washing the pans she’d dirtied while cooking, she heard the door open behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes shot wide when she saw Garrett entering, carrying his plate and cup of coffee.
“Is something wrong with the food?” she asked in alarm.
“No. I thought I’d eat in here with you.”
She blinked in surprise. “But—but guests don’t eat in the kitchen. They take their meals in the breakfast room.”
He set his cup and plate on the island and slid onto a stool. “This one doesn’t,” he said, and opened his napkin over his lap.
She considered insisting he return to the breakfast room, then turned back to the sink with a sigh, deciding the guy had paid for the right to eat wherever he wanted.
Thinking she should try to make conversation with him, she asked, “Do you have plans for the day?”
“Nothing specific. I thought I’d take a drive later and familiarize myself with the city.”
“Have you ever been to Austin before?”
“A couple of times on business, but I was in meetings and saw very little of the city.”
She rinsed the soap from the pan she’d washed and set it on the drainboard. “That’s a shame. There’s a lot to do and see in Austin.”
“Such as…?”
She wrung out the dishcloth and moved to the island to wipe down the surface. “Well, there’s Sixth Street,” she said, “which is a little bit like Bourbon Street in New Orleans’ French Quarter. You’ll find everything there from tattoo parlors to jazz clubs. It gets pretty crazy on weekends. Lots of people on the street, drinking and partying.
“The State Capitol is a must-see,” she went on. “Fabulous architecture and a tremendous view of the city from the top. And if you’re into history, Austin is the home of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, as well as the Bob Bullock Museum.”
“Have you lived here all your life?” he asked.
She chuckled, amused that he would mistake her for a native. “No. I’d think my northern accent would give me away.”
“Northern?” he repeated, then shook his head and speared a plump strawberry with his fork. “Trust me. Whatever accent you had was lost to a Texas twang long ago.”
“Really?” she said, considering that the ultimate compliment.
“Really. Throw in a couple more y’alls and you could pass for Sue Ellen from the Dallas TV series.”
“Wow. That really takes me back. I watched that show when I was a kid. Sue Ellen, J.R., Bobby….” Hiding a smile, she shook her head. “The Ewing family was so dysfunctional, they made mine look like the Waltons.” Reaching the end of the island where the coffeemaker sat, she lifted the carafe. “More coffee?”
“None for me.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then set it beside his plate. “You’ve mentioned your family several times and not necessarily in a good light.”
She shrugged. “Just being honest. My parents are strange people.” She carried the carafe to the sink. “If you have any food preferences,” she said, changing the subject, “let me know. I try to accommodate my guests’ tastes whenever I can.”
When he didn’t reply, she glanced over her shoulder and found him frowning at her back. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No. I…I was just wondering if you’d have time to drive me around today.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought of being trapped in a car with him all day. “If you’re worried about getting lost, I can provide you with plenty of maps.”
“I don’t need a map. It’s your opinion I want, as well as your knowledge of the area. You seem to know the city well and can probably offer me insight on things I wouldn’t think to ask.”
“I don’t know,” she said slowly, while trying to think of a plausible excuse to refuse him. “I’ve got a lot to do today. I finished boxing up all the Christmas decorations yesterday, but I still need to carry all the crates to the attic.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you’ll act as my tour guide for the day, I’ll help you haul the crates upstairs. And,” he added, as if sensing her reluctance, “I’ll compensate you for your time.”
“You’ll pay me?” she said in surprise.
“Yes.”
He named an amount that made her jaw drop. “That’s more than some people pay for a car!”
“I assure you I can afford it.” He lifted a brow. “So? Do we have a deal?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, then stuck out a hand, fearing he’d try to renege on the deal later. “In Texas, a man’s handshake is as good as his word.”
He took her hand. “Is it the same for a woman?”
The tingle started in the center of her palm and worked its way up her arm. Wondering what it was about him that spawned the sensation, she curled her fingers into a fist against her palm.
“Yeah,” she said, surprised by the breathy quality in her voice. “Same goes.”
If the computer industry ever bottomed-out and Garrett suddenly found himself in need of a job, he thought he might try his luck as a private investigator. He was getting pretty damn good at this clandestine stuff. Asking Ali to chauffeur him around Austin might have been spontaneous, but it was pure genius. Not only had he finessed a large block of time in which to learn more about her, he’d also finagled a way to check out her attic. He hadn’t expected to find the missing deed lying in plain sight up there—and he hadn’t—but he had familiarized himself with the attic’s layout, which would come in handy if Ali refused to relinquish her portion of the deed to him, and he was forced to search for it on his own.
He hoped it didn’t come to that. Lying was one thing. Stealing was quite another.
“Am I driving too fast?”
He glanced Ali’s way. “No. Why?”
“You were frowning.”
“Was I?” He turned his gaze to the roadway again. “Just thinking.”
“You must think all the time.”
“What
