wants something, he goes for it.”
“Yeah?” Grace raised an eyebrow. “Well, so do I.”
* * *
“REMIND ME AGAIN WHY WE’RE stopping here for dinner when we’re on our way to a party with lots of food,” Stephen said from the passenger seat. “While you’re at it, remind me how it is that you ended up driving my car.”
Ty flashed a grin. “Because people find it impossible to tell me no. And we’re here because there was only one person on that list neither of us know anything about, and coincidentally, she happens to be local. Or maybe not coincidentally. Do you think they picked her to keep the Hill Country sponsors happy?”
“As opposed to any of the other dozens of award-winning Hill Country chefs and restaurateurs?” Stephen said wryly. “Face it, if she’s in the game, she’s probably something special.”
“Must be.” Ty peered into the darkness surrounding them. “Because, hard as this place is to find, they’d need incredible word of mouth to stay in business. Haven’t these people heard of neon signs?” There were a couple of parking lights shining down on the pothole-riddled lot, but nothing lit up with the name of the place. According to the one-line bio in the paperwork Stephen had received, her restaurant was The Twisted Jalapeño.
He parked the car. “We’re not really eating dinner, you know. Just order something small and I’ll do the same, so we can get a feel for the place. The reception doesn’t start until seven. We have time.”
“Assuming we don’t get lost again,” Stephen said. His phone was equipped with a GPS navigational system, but based on their experience trying to get Ty to his hotel this afternoon, the GPS was a compulsive liar.
“We’re not going to get lost,” Ty said as they crunched across the gravel lot. “In a couple of hours, we’ll meet the people who are going to help me get my own show. This is it, my big break. Trust the Beckett Instinct. When have I ever steered you wrong? And before you make some wise-ass comment, I’d like to remind you who introduced you to your wife.”
“Caroline Groves introduced me to my wife, you lunatic. You weren’t even there.”
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t been ducking Caroline’s calls, she wouldn’t have cornered you at that museum benefit, which led to you meeting Donna. So I claim credit.” Ty opened the restaurant door and stepped inside.
Music played merrily overhead, and Ty quirked an eyebrow. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was an Irish reel. Not exactly what he’d expected.
A smiling hostess with a profusion of curly hair greeted them. “Two this evening, gentlemen?”
“Yes, ma’am. But we can’t stay long,” Ty said apologetically. “So no need to waste a table on us. Seats at the bar would be fine.”
“You got it.” She gestured toward the back corner of the room. “Amy’s got some great specials going on tonight. Enjoy.”
The decor consisted mostly of framed photographs. Old black-and-white family pictures intermingled with colorful landscapes of the region. He recognized shots of Main Street from his exploring town this afternoon. There was a photo of three kids, a tiny dark-haired girl standing between two lanky boys, in front of The Twisted Jalapeño. He wondered how long the restaurant had been doing business. The place had its charm—and something certainly smelled good—but as he and Stephen walked through the dining area, he noted signs of age and disrepair. This restaurant needed some TLC…if “TLC” stood for infusion of cash.
About half the tables they passed were occupied, but the bar was mostly empty. At one end, a woman spoke into her cell phone while twirling a straw in her margarita; at the other was a man in a suit, with a laptop in front of him. Ty and Stephen took seats at the middle of the counter. The bartender had purple hair and a butterfly tattoo on her upper arm, revealed by her blue tank top and black leather vest.
She smiled at them. “Can I interest you two in…” She trailed off, blinking at Ty, then mumbled something.
He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but he thought she said, “Oh, this should be good.”
She walked away briefly, returning with a basket of tortilla chips and some green salsa. “Those are our drink specials tonight.” She pointed to a chalkboard at the end of the bar. “And here are a couple of menus. Be back in a minute to take your order.”
Before either man had a chance to speak, she hustled to the far end of the bar, to the man in the suit. They had a quick conversation in low voices. Ty didn’t betray his curiosity by looking toward them. Instead he swiped a chip through the salsa and nodded.
“Excellent,” he pronounced.
He flipped open the menu and was studying the range of selections when he sensed motion. Ty glanced over his shoulder. A woman in a formfitting green dress was stalking toward him, her long black hair bouncing against her shoulders. She was one of those women for whom the expression “you’re beautiful when you’re angry” had been created, although Ty had no idea why she looked so ticked.
“Incoming,” he said under his breath to Stephen.
Stephen took a quick look, then shook his head. “Tell me you didn’t date her and break her heart. There must be a hundred females in the world who want you dead.”
“Not true,” Ty objected. The benefit of keeping his relationships casual was that women tended not to be heartbroken when he left. Most of his breakups were amicable, including the food critic who’d given him a glowing write-up even after they stopped seeing each other. “Besides, you know me, I’m a pain in the ass. By the time I leave, they’re relieved to see me go.”
“You!” The woman had reached them. Her narrowed eyes were sharper than the best set of knives he’d ever owned. “You have a lot of nerve.”
Ty gave her a disarming smile. “It’s true, ma’am. I’ve always had more nerve than brains. Have we met? Ty Beckett.”
“Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Beckett. You’re the competition and you’ve come to spy.”
“Spy? Ah. You must be Grace Torres,” he deduced. “Look, it isn’t as if I came in here to steal your recipes. Although, kudos on this salsa verde. It would definitely be worth stealing.” He waited a beat to see if the compliment improved her opinion of him. Nope. “I was just stopping by on my way to the reception because I was intrigued. You were a mystery. I’ve heard of all the other finalists.”
When Stephen coughed, choking on his chip, Ty realized his phrasing might not have been the best way to break the ice, insinuating she was a nobody in the culinary world.
To cover his uncharacteristic gaffe, Ty offered quickly, “Hey, we could all ride together. Want a lift to the vineyard?”
Grace drew back, her almond-shaped eyes incredulous. “I’d rather walk.”
“In those heels?” Ty teased. “Might be uncomfortable.” He’d noticed the shoes because they were sexy as hell and did great things for her exposed calves, but he kept that information to himself. Instead he introduced her to Stephen. “This is Stephen Zigler, my friend and business manager. It was his idea to come in,” Ty fibbed cheerfully.
