Taco-Truck Tryst (Quinn Valley Ranch Book 1)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “It’s definitely true. Bobling scared every boy in school away from you before he left. We’d all talk about how pretty you were, but not one boy had the guts to ask you out. And then, remember? The first time I went to pick you up for a date, he was home from basic training, and he glared at me. I was sure he was going to punch his fist through my throat.”

  She laughed. “You were really that scared of Bobling? No way!”

  “Oh, yes way. Every guy in school was. He had a reputation that scared all of us. You were the oldest daughter, so you were the only one in school with him. How old were your sisters when they went on dates for the first time?”

  “I guess they were all younger . . . that makes sense. I just figured they were all more outgoing and prettier than me, so they were asked out younger.”

  “Prettier?” He shook his head. “You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen, let alone the prettiest in your family. Don’t let Bobling’s intimidation tactics make you feel like you are less than you are. Please.”

  “I won’t.” She hadn’t been fishing for a compliment, but she was thrilled to get one from him. Ciran had always meant the world to her.

  After they had finished their cones, they drove back to her house. “Do you want to come in for a drink?” she asked softly. Really, she wanted him alone so she could see if the kisses she remembered from him were as powerful as her memories were.

  “Sure.” Ciran wanted her alone, so there was no way he was going to tell her no. He could have a drink or not have a drink. He could do cartwheels through her living room for all he cared, except her living room was rather small, and he was certain to break something. If not furniture or décor, himself.

  He followed her to the house and waited while she opened the door. He noted that she hadn’t locked it, which was normal in their town. Her neighbors would notice if anyone who wasn’t meant to be there was around.

  He walked in and settled his bulk on her couch, hoping she’d come sit beside him. “Water?” she asked. “Or I have Sprite? Or lemonade?”

  “Water is fine.” He didn’t want anything to drink. He wanted her close to him. Was that too much to ask?

  She got them both a bottle of water from her fridge and walked over to sit beside him on the couch. She noticed that he’d sat right smack in the middle, so she couldn’t have sat far from him if she’d tried—which she wouldn’t have. “Here you go.” She handed him the chilled water, and he unscrewed the cap and took a drink.

  “What did you think of the movie?” he asked. He didn’t really care, but he was going to make small talk until he figured out how to lean in for a kiss. He wanted it to be smooth, unlike their first kiss underneath the bleachers. He still couldn’t believe how badly that had gone.

  They had been dating for about a month, and he hadn’t figured out how to kiss her goodnight with the porch light always left on when he dropped her off. So one day at lunch at school, he’d caught her hand and pulled her under the bleachers. “I have to kiss you.”

  She had stared up at him, her eyes wide. “You do?”

  “It’s killing me not to know how you taste,” he had told her. And then his mouth was on hers, and they were kissing.

  It had been all he could do to stop when the bell rang and they’d had to go back to school. He’d messed up her hair, and she had been running her fingers through it to fix it, and her hand was on her lips as if she was shocked what they’d just done.

  She didn’t seem to know what to do, so he’d grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the school. “We have to get to fifth period if we don’t want to get in trouble.” Thankfully the class had been one they had together, so he’d just pulled her along to class.

  Shaking his head, he looked at her, wondering if she’d even answered him. It wasn’t like him to daydream about things that had happened ten years before, but he couldn’t quit thinking about her, and his body was in overdrive where she was concerned.

  “What were you thinking about?” she asked softly. “You looked lost for a minute there.”

  He sighed, wondering how to answer her, and he decided that honesty was definitely the best policy. “I was thinking about our first kiss, beneath the bleachers at school and how badly I messed that up.”

  She frowned at him. “How did you mess that up? That’s one of my favorite memories.”

  “Well, telling you I had to know how you tasted? Was that corny or what?”

  “It was one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard in my life.” Roxie hated that he didn’t look at the memory the same way she did.

  “It was?”

  She nodded. “Definitely. That kiss . . . well, it was awfully special to me, and not just because it was my first.”

  “No point in fixing something that ain’t broke, is there? Roxie, your lips are haunting me. I need to kiss you and see what you taste like.”

  “I thought you’d never ask!” She dropped her bottle of water on the floor, briefly wondering if she’d twisted the cap back on it, but then deciding she really didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

  Ciran couldn’t help but grin at her reaction, and his own water was dropped as well. He slipped an arm around her waist, and his other hand went to the side of her face. He kissed her softly, remembering her taste. So often when he’d kissed her she’d tasted of chocolate marshmallow ice cream, because she’d been an ice cream addict even back then. Her lips felt just right beneath his.

  After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes full of appreciation. “I missed that more than I’ve ever missed anything in my life. Even more than my grandma’s lemon cake.”

  “Wow. Your grandma makes the best lemon cake in all the valley.”

  “In all of the world!” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “You are so special to me, and I can’t believe I was able to stay away for eight whole years.”

  “You make me feel special. But why did you stay away for eight years? Did you think I wouldn’t want you back?”

  He shrugged. “At first I wanted to prove to your dad that I was worthy of you . . . then it was more proving it to myself. I didn’t want to come back to this valley, a college dropout. Or a law school dropout. I waited until I felt like I had proven that I could make it in that world, and then I came back to you. And I called my grandmother every week to find out if you were dating anyone.”

  “Did you really?” Roxie giggled. “That’s hard to believe!”

  “Well, it’s the truth. I was afraid to see you, but I was determined to see you. I wanted so badly for you to move to San Antonio with me. Your parents would have paid for you to go to college there. You were accepted, and then at the last minute you decided to stay home. Why?”

  She sighed. She had hoped they would just forget about her changing the plans at the last minute. She’d wanted to be with him—badly. But she’d been afraid. Afraid to live in a big city. Afraid to live in a dorm with a stranger. Afraid they would get there and he would realize that she wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world. “Fear.”

  “Fear? What does that mean?”

  “I wish you could understand how lacking in self-confidence I am. I’m nothing like my family. My sisters all went into natural healing. My brother was a jock and worked out every day. Now that he’s in the Marines, he’s gotten a degree in kinesiology, and when he finally comes home, he’s going to run the gym at the hotel.”

  “So? You were special just the way you were. You didn’t have to be like your family to be confident.”

  “I know that now, but I was a different girl at eighteen. I thought that I needed to be part of what my family did if I was going to have any value. All my sisters got their training, and they went straight into the jobs they wanted. Me? I had to work my way up from housekeeper. It’s not that Dad didn’t think I could do it, but what I wanted was different. It made me feel like I was less.”

  “And that’s why you wouldn’t go to college? Because you weren’t like
your family and thought you should be?”

  “I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you.” She stood up and paced in front of the couch. “I felt like you were definitely going to go away to this huge university and be popular immediately because you were there on a football scholarship. I would just be one of the millions of girls who would follow you around between classes.”

  “Never. Roxie . . . you’ve always been mine. There was something the first day I saw you in junior high . . .”

  “You mean when I ran into you with my lunch tray because I was so fascinated by your shoulders, and I dumped my entire lunch of mashed potatoes and gravy and mystery meat all over you, along with a full glass of chocolate milk?”

  He grinned. “Yes, from that day. I couldn’t even be mad at you because you were so cute as you apologized over and over. And you were a Quinn. You were royalty at that school, and everyone knew it.”

  “Oh, please. I was never royalty. My cousins were . . . and my brother and sisters . . . but not me. I was the shy girl who spent all her time in the library . . .”

  “You were. I liked that about you. I liked everything about you.” He caught her hand and pulled her back down onto the couch with him. “No matter why you didn’t go with me, we’re here together now. I’m not giving up on us, Roxane Quinn. Not this time.”

  She nodded slowly. “I won’t give up on you either. Just keep making me tacos, would you?”

  He sighed heavily. “You only like me for my tacos . . .”

  “And your kisses. Don’t forget that I’ve always loved your kisses.” She leaned toward him and kissed him. “Never forget that.”

  “I will not forget that! I want to be the only man who kisses you for the rest of your life!”

  She looked at him skeptically. “I’m not so sure you know what you’re saying, Ciran. I think maybe we need to take this slow and get to know each other all over again.”

  “I can do that. Are we still on for four-wheeling in the mountains on Saturday?”

  “Oh, yes, please! I can’t think of anything I’d rather do!” She had never been a jock, but riding around in the mountains had always brought her joy. The hotel had rented out four-wheelers since her father had bought it. They had always taken advantage of the family discounts, though her father had not wanted to extend them to Ciran. “I have my own four-wheeler now. I sometimes go into the mountains on my own.”

  “I don’t have my own, but I’ll rent one, and we’ll go. Why don’t I pick you up around eight?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Did that mean she wouldn’t see him before then?

  “Do you want to have supper with me at the pizza place tomorrow? I don’t want to wait ’til Saturday to see you.”

  “Well, I will be getting tacos and sopapillas from you again tomorrow. I will probably have to get two orders of sopapillas so my mom can have one. She ate half of mine today.”

  He laughed. “I always loved your mom. I think that sounds great.” He pressed another kiss to her lips and got to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight.” She walked him to the door and shut it behind him. As she watched him go to his car, her fingers were covering her lips. He still makes me melt with just a kiss.

  Chapter Five

  At work the following day, Roxane found herself walking around with a silly grin on her face. She couldn’t remember being as excited as she was about her relationship with Ciran since she had discovered the play Cyrano de Bergerac. She remembered reading it over and over again, and she still had six copies of it in her library at home. Different translations, of course. She knew of no one else in the world who had six translations of their favorite play. It didn’t matter, though. She was finished trying to be like others. She would be herself, and Ciran seemed to like her that way.

  It was mid-morning when a client walked into her office, sitting down across from her. “I want a huge party for my daughter’s quinceañera. I know it’s not really done in this part of the country, but I had one when I turned fifteen, and my daughter deserves one, too.”

  Roxane leaned back in her chair and studied the woman across from her. “When do you want it?” She had read about quinces, and she looked forward to the challenge of having one. She didn’t know the woman in front of her, but that didn’t matter. If she wanted a party, then she had come to the right place.

  “My daughter will be fifteen the first week in January. I was thinking of doing it January fifth, because it shouldn’t run into the holidays too terribly much. Do you have an opening?”

  Roxane looked down at her calendar even though she knew she had yet to schedule a party for the following year. “Absolutely. We’d be pleased to do it. How many people?”

  The woman across from her shrugged. “Probably two hundred or so. The whole family will come in for the party, and she’ll want to invite school friends.” She leaned over onto her knees, looking very serious. “The big question is whether or not you can provide Mexican food to our specifications.”

  As soon as the woman said the words, Roxane’s eyes lit up. “I would have to outsource it, but I do know of someone who would love to have the job, Mrs. . . .”

  “I’m Maria Sanchez. I would be thrilled to meet with this person.”

  Roxane nodded. “Give me a moment.” She picked up her cell phone instead of the phone on her desk and immediately made a call. When Ciran answered, she said, “Do you think you could be at my office in the next few minutes? I’m meeting with a client who would like Mexican food catered in for her daughter’s quinceañera.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” Roxane ended the call and looked at the woman again. “All right, he’ll be here in fifteen minutes to discuss the menu for you. Would you like to look at the ballroom now?”

  “There is no need. I went to a wedding reception there last year, and I am familiar with the space.”

  The two of them chatted money for a few minutes as they ironed out some of the details. “I’ll be working with you every step of the way, Mrs. Sanchez. I will help you with everything from napkins to decorations.” Roxane looked up and saw Ciran at her door, standing politely waiting. “This is the caterer I mentioned. Mrs. Sanchez, this is Ciran Benedict. He makes some amazing food.”

  Mrs. Sanchez turned and looked at him, her eyes narrowing as she studied him intently. “What makes you qualified to make Mexican food.”

  “I went to college in San Antonio, and I found myself loving the Tex-Mex cuisine more than I ever loved the law. I worked for a few years as an attorney as I found out everything I could about making good food. I now own a taco truck that will double as my catering truck for events like yours.”

  “You didn’t bring a sample?” Mrs. Sanchez asked.

  Ciran grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask for one. I have some different items ready in my truck right now. Would you like me to bring some up, or would you like to accompany me down?”

  “Please bring up several things for me to try, and we will work on settling the menu today. I want to have as much of this finished as I can so I just don’t have to worry about anything but my daughter’s dress and hairstyle. I have a feeling it’s going to take me a long time to get her to agree to a dress she likes.”

  Roxane grinned. “What’s your daughter’s name?” she asked as Ciran headed back to his truck for samples.

  “Cristina. She gets her hardheadedness from her father.” Mrs. Sanchez grinned. “Being the only Hispanic girl in all of the Riston school district is difficult for her. She hates that she looks different. There just aren’t enough minorities in Idaho.”

  Roxane had no real answer for that. She’d thought as much herself many times. “I wish I could make things easier for her. Hopefully the party will make her feel more connected to her culture and not more disconnected from her school friends.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. Who doesn’t love to be the center of attention at a party? I know my quinc
e holds such fond memories for me. I’ll have a professional photographer, and we’ll do a nice cake. She’ll be in a beautiful gown. It’s going to be a more formal party than most parties of girls that age.”

  “I’m somewhat familiar with the custom, but I will be doing more research on it so I can help more. Will you bring Cristina in to meet me before the party? Or will you just let me know what colors she wants?”

  “I’ll make sure I bring her to meet you soon.”

  Ciran was back a moment later with a Styrofoam cooler he placed on Roxane’s desk. “I brought a selection of things for you to try. If there’s something I don’t have with me that you’re looking for, I can certainly make it. I wasn’t really planning on doing this today, so just let me know what you want.” He opened the cooler and took out two tin foil packets. He handed one to Mrs. Sanchez and the other to Roxane. “I knew you wouldn’t want to be left out.”

  “I was going to go down for lunch in thirty minutes. You saved me the walk.” Roxane grinned as she opened the tin foil. There were several smaller tin foil packs inside. She opened one and saw the pulled pork she’d loved the night before and took a bite. She noticed hers had an R on it again. Surely that meant he had made hers without her allergens.

  Ciran watched Mrs. Sanchez carefully as she unwrapped and ate each of the tacos. Her face was unreadable, and he had no idea how she felt until she’d eaten the last. He’d cut each of the tacos he had made up for the day in half and added garnishes after he’d set Roxane’s aside.

  “Do you make queso?” Mrs. Sanchez asked as she daintily wiped her mouth with the napkin he offered.

  He nodded. “I make a wonderful queso with green chilis. I don’t usually make my own chips because I have limited facilities, but I do order a restaurant quality.”

  “I don’t care about you making your own chips. I’m happy with the restaurant quality. I’d like to try some of your queso as well as some enchiladas. Do you do sopapillas? Or empanadas? I’d like to have a variety of fruit empanadas for dessert. I don’t want to hear from my mother that we can’t get decent Mexican food here, because she’s right.”