“Nope. You need real food.”
“What do you consider real food?” she asked as they walked through the office.
“I have just the place in mind.” He glanced at her gray suit and frowned. “Don’t worry. I think they have bibs.”
“Bibs?” Leslie’s brow furrowed. “Where are you taking me?”
“Don’t you worry. I know how to treat a lady. Since I’m treating, I get to choose.” He took the keys from her hand, locked the door to the office and slid the keys into her purse. “Ready?”
“I think,” she said, her brow twisting.
He held out his arm. “We probably should brush up on our dating skills. If we want to do this right, we have to know the rules.”
“There are rules?” she asked as they headed for the elevator.
“Not anything written.” He tilted his head. “Maybe we should co-author a book on the rules of dating. I’m sure there a lot of people out there just like us who haven’t been out in a while and could use some guidance.”
Leslie laughed as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage.
Tag liked it when she laughed. “You should laugh more often,” he said. “Rule number one: your date should make you laugh.”
Leslie grinned. “And not because he’s dressed like clown.”
When the elevator door opened, Tag led Leslie to his truck parked nearby. “Unless he’s actually a clown for a rodeo. Those guys are truly badass. I have huge respect for rodeo clowns. They save lives.”
Leslie nodded. “Good point. Laugh if he’s dressed as a clown, and he works for a rodeo.”
“Right. Work is work. An employed man is golden.” He held the door and handed her up into the vehicle.
“Agreed,” she said, a grin slipping across her face. “You always make me laugh.”
“And I don’t even need a clown suit to do it.” He winked and closed the door.
Tag drove away from downtown Austin toward one of his favorite restaurants. Not a high-class, expensive place but one he knew she would love.
“Rudy’s Barbeque?” Leslie shook her head smiling. “I haven’t been to Rudy’s for…I don’t know how long it’s been. Probably since you, Randy and I came to celebrate the purchase of our office building in downtown Austin.”
“I remember how much you enjoyed the ribs,” Tag said.
Leslie laughed. “I needed to be hosed down after eating.”
Tag glanced at her suit. “Like I said, I think they have bibs.”
“Bibs? I need coveralls.” Despite the idea of drenching herself in barbecue sauce, Leslie quickly unbuckled her seatbelt. “I like the pepper flavor of their barbecue sauce better than any sweet ones.”
“I like the pepper, too,” Tag said. “Something we have in common.”
Leslie cast a sad glance his way. “Randy liked the sweet sauces.”
“Yes, he did.” Another reason he’d brought Leslie to Rudy’s. He wanted her to enjoy the meal and to note the differences between him and Randy.
“Let me get your door.” Tag leaped out of the truck and rounded the front in time to help Leslie down.
“I can get down all by myself, you know,” she insisted, pulling her arms out of her suit jacket.
“I know.” He gripped her around her waist and helped her to the ground. God, she felt good in his arms. “Rule two: let your date open doors for you and help you out of his vehicle. If he doesn’t, he’s not good enough for you.”
Leslie’s hands rested on Tag’s chest. “Good thing you know all the rules. Your dates are going to love you.”
There was only one date he wanted loving him. And she was standing in front of him, close enough to kiss. As if his body had a mind of its own, it swayed forward.
Leslie’s eyes widened just enough to remind him he was to take it slowly. She had to come to the realization that she loved him on her own.
Tag reached around her to adjust the jacket she’d removed to keep it from falling out of the truck. Then he straightened and stepped backward. “Ready for some good old-fashioned barbecue?”
She ran her tongue across her lips.
It was all Tag could do not to groan.
“I am,” she whispered. “The hotter the better.”
His pulse quickened. He took her hand and walked her into the diner where they stood in line to make their order and waited for the cooks to prepare and deliver their food wrapped in butcher paper. Because they’d ordered ribs, the clerk at the counter handed them two bibs to go with their meals, as well as foil-packaged wipes for cleanup afterward.
Leslie slid onto a bench and tied the bib around her neck. She pulled a hair clamp out of her purse and secured her hair back from her face.
“You would have made a good Boy Scout,” Tag said. “Always prepared.”
“I take my barbecue seriously.” She winked, rolled up her sleeves and bit into her first rib. Leslie closed her eyes and moaned.
Tag’s groin tightened. “Good?”
She opened her eyes and gave him a saucy smile. “Amazing. I didn’t realize just how hungry I was.”
With a grin, Tag dug into his ribs.
Thirty minutes later, their fingers and faces were covered in sauce.
Leslie ripped open one of the wipes and worked on her hands and face. She still had a little bit on her nose.
“You missed a spot.” Tag leaned close and dabbed at the spot. Again, he was close enough he could have tasted the barbecue on her lips.
Steady, man. You’re in it for the long haul. Don’t blow it now.
She smiled and reached out to dab at a spot on his cheek. “There. Now, we’re presentable.”
“I’m going to wash my hands in the bathroom, then I’ll be ready to go,” Tag said.
“Me, too,” Leslie said. “The wipes can only do so much.”
They went their separate ways at the bathrooms.
Tag entered, washed his hands and face and looked at himself in the mirror. “Take it easy. She’s worth the wait.”
When he left the bathroom, Leslie was already standing, waiting in the hallway.
A man in faded blue jeans, a blue chambray shirt and cowboy boots leaned his hand against the wall beside her head. “Hey, beautiful. What say you and I go dancin’?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve already got a date.”
“He ain’t much of a date, if he leaves you standing around.” The man touched her cheek. “If you were my date, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a second.”
Anger bubbled up inside Tag. He forced back the instinct to flatten the man, face first on the ground. Instead, he laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Pardon me, sir, but you seem to be lost.”
The man spun, his hands coming up in fists. “Butt out, dude. I’m not lost.”
Tag could smell the beer on his breath. “Yeah, well, you’re hitting on my date.”
“You snooze, you lose, buddy.” He turned back to Leslie. “You comin’?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m with him.” Leslie tipped her head toward Tag.
Beer-breath snorted. “He’s a loser.”