Page 23 of Wright Together
We’d flirted since he’d gotten back from Seattle, but besides the one tug of my hair—holy fuck me sideways—he’d been stiff ever since. Maybe I was misinterpreting his intentions all over again. Mr. Long-Term Relationship probably didn’t care if Malcolm and I had a little banter. Right?
“If y’all are free, my family is having a summer barbecue tomorrow night. We’d love for you to join us,” Malcolm said.
“Appreciate the offer,” Whitt said, “but we’ll be back in Lubbock by then.”
“If the hotels weren’t all booked, I’d say we should stay another night,” I said apologetically.
“Completely understand. The rodeo eats up the entire town. Next time.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll send over the final paperwork when I get back into the office on Monday,” Whitt said, shaking hands with Malcolm one more time.
Then, we were striding away from the empty, old oil land and back to his Lexus. It stood out in the dusty, desolate fields. We probably would have been better off with my 4Runner, but after the timing belt issue, I wasn’t sure it would make many more Midland trips. I needed to reserve them for Bailey.
“Where to now?”
“It’s late. We should probably go eat at the hotel and crash. We’ll have to leave early in the morning.”
I rolled my eyes as we slid into the car. “Absolutely not. The hotel will be swamped with rodeo guys, and we need actual food.”
“You have a suggestion, Houston?”
“Yes, sir,” I teased. It was the first time since we’d checked in that he turned his full attention to me. His lips were slightly parted. Those big blue eyes roamed my face. I wondered what he was thinking in that moment. “I know just the place.”
He turned the car on. “Lead the way.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were striding inside a hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint, attached to a ratty, old gas station. In Texas, the best barbecue was always one step away from a dump. It had a tin roof and leaned slightly to the left. The tables were old picnic benches, and dry air blew in from the screened-in windows. Out back was a bar the length of the place, where regulars came and got drunk on pulled pork and ribs slathered in their signature spicy sauce.
Whitton parked his rather conspicuous Lexus in between a set of Harley-Davidson motorcycles and an old junker pickup with more rust damage than body left.
“Where the hell have you taken me?”
“Only the best barbecue in the state.”
Whitton looked skeptically at the building. “It looks one step away from a health violation.”
I put my hand to my chest. “How dare you! Lee’s is an institution.”
“If you say so.”
I strode around the car and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the restaurant. “I swear, Whitton, we’re going to have to find your sense of adventure.”
“I know precisely where my sense of adventure is.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, linking our arms together.
“Yeah. Locked up tight in a vault with everything else I don’t have time for.”
I leaned my head against his enormous bicep and looked up at him through thick lashes. “Well, hand over the key to your vault, Wright. I’m here to get you out of your comfort zone.”
“But comfort zones are comfortable.”
“Here’s the deal,” I said, dragging him to a stop before the door. “We’re off the clock. No one here knows who you are. No one here even cares. Just trust me and have some fun at least until we get home.”
His eyes searched mine for a second, as if waiting for the rug pull. I didn’t have one. This was my hometown. As complicated as my relationship was with it, we could have a good time here. A chance that we never really gave ourselves back home. Not with the entire town watching our every move and me still too fucked up by what had happened with Arnold. Why couldn’t we have some fun?
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “You win.”