Page 6 of Her Bachelor Cowboy Billionaire

CHAPTER2

Friday, September 1st

Roark wasglad he’d driven his all-electric Mustang to work that morning. It was less ostentatious than a limo. Jessica didn’t seem to know who he was. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t think his money would matter to her. She just didn’t seem the gold digger type, but he’d wait until he knew her better.

He settled her in the car and took off west down Colfax Avenue toward Lakewood. He pulled off into the parking lot for Gordo’s Mexican Restaurant. It was his favorite, and he visited them usually once a week. The parking lot was nearly full, but he found an open spot on the back side of the building.

As soon as he walked in, aromas of roasted chilis and fried pork caressed his nose. His mouth watered.

She lifted her chin, closed her eyes, and sniffed the air. Then she opened her eyes and looked at Roark. “It smells wonderful in here.”

“Just wait. Your tastebuds are in for a treat.”

The owner, Esmeralda Ortega, greeted him, holding several menus. “Ah, Mr. Sullivan. I’m so happy to see you.” She waved him down.

He smiled and bent over so the small woman could kiss his cheek. Then he kissed hers in return.

“I’m being rude. You have a young lady with you. Hello, Miss…?”

“Kirby. Jessica Kirby.” She held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you. Roark has been very complimentary about your establishment and the amazing food. I think he must be correct because you are packed.”

Esmeralda shook her hand. “Yes, thankfully we are always busy, but the tables rotate fairly quickly. Also, he’s biased. He started coming here as a boy with his papa. My mama was doing the cooking then. Now, I use all of her recipes. The menu has been the same now for forty years. I think, why change it when the customers are happy with it the way it is? When I retire, my daughters, Estrellita and Maria will take over. They already do much of the cooking. I mostly supervise now. But, come. Sit.” She waved them into a booth covered in red vinyl. “Let me bring you a drink. What would you like, Miss Jessica?”

“A margarita on the rocks with no salt, please.” Jessica looked around. “I love your décor. The paintings of Mexico, the bullfights and lovely moonlit nights are beautiful.” She pointed at each painting as she said the words. “I love the use of red in the paintings. Of course, that’s my favorite color, so I could be a little biased.” She chuckled.

“Thank you, Miss Kirby. My late husband Eduardo painted them.”

“He was very talented.”

“Thank you for saying so.” Esmeralda turned toward Roark. “You want your usual Negra Modelo beer?”

“Yes, please.”

“I will be right back with your drinks. In the meantime, you can look over the menu.” She handed Jessica one of the menus she held.

It impressed Roark how easily Jessica conversed with Esmeralda, as though they were friends. “I think you’ll love the food here. You’ll wish they delivered, I guarantee.”

Jessica looked over the menu. “I think I’ll have the margarita beef burrito.”

“Excellent choice. My favorite. I get that, a chili relleno and guacamole salad.”

Jessica chuckled. “If I ate like that, I’d blow up like a balloon.”

He smiled. “I will have to run a couple of extra miles tomorrow.”

“I have a treadmill in my living room. I usually hang my coats on it.” She laughed. “I hate working out. I’d rather do something fun. Take a hike, go swimming or to a water park, play miniature golf. I’m not good at the real thing, so I stick to the one with the windmill.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. She was delightful, with more depth and more grounded than the uber thin women he’d been dating and engaged to. All they were interested in was the latest gossip about what a famous woman was doing now and who she was sleeping with. He can’t believe he was ever attracted to those women. Not when compared to Jessica. “I have a question. Why do you wear those glasses? I can tell by looking at you they don’t have a prescription in them. So why?”

Her lips curved up, and she blushed. “To keep the men at bay. I get hit on a lot if I don’t wear them. This way, they think I’m a geek and don’t bother me. I guess that sounds pretty snobbish, doesn’t it?”

He leaned on the table with his forearms crossed. “Not at all. I totally understand. I present myself as other than I am. What do you say we tell—or show—each other who we really are?”

The server, Rosa, came to the table with their drinks. She looked like a girl of about fifteen, with black hair in a long braid down her back and dark brown eyes. Roark knew her to be at least ten years older than that. After setting the drinks in front of Roark and Jessica, she took a pad from her apron’s pocket.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Sullivan?”

“I’ll have my regular, Rosa, and the lady will have the same.”