Page 57 of Resisting Isaac

I don’t getnervous around women.

When you deal with livestock for a living, a female you could easily carry hardly seems intimidating.

Except this one.

After she changes into dry clothes—a painfully short denim skirt and loose-fitting cream-colored top that drapes off her shoulder enough to make my mouth water—we head out to grab some dinner.

She glances over at me from the passenger seat of my truck, one brow arched. “Everything okay?”

Other than the fact that we both just knowingly broke a legally binding agreement, and I have no clue how I’m going to make myselfstopbreaking it, everything is fantastic.

I grip the wheel tighter and keep my eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Just…thinking about dinner.”

“Is this like, a date?” she says, grinning out the side of her mouth. “Because if it is, I think we’re doing this whole thing backwards.”

I glance at her.

That grin on her lips is dangerous to my health.

“I don’t do dates at all typically, so hell if I know.”

We pull into the gravel lot ofLos Compadres Taqueria, the only place within fifty miles that makes homemade tortillas. Bright lights strung across the entrance. Folding chairs on the lawn. The whole thing smells like lime and cilantro and Tequila.

I park, cut the engine, and hesitate.

She’s still watching me.

“You brought me to a taco joint?”

I feel heat creep up my neck. “Yeah. They’re famous. The goat barbacoa?—”

“You think I eat goat?” she deadpans. “Because I’m from New Mexico?”

“What—no.Jesus, Elena. No! I didn’t—” I fumble for something better. Anything better. “I didn’t pick this place because—because of your background, I just thought?—”

She stares at me.

I’m flailing. I know it. I can’t eventalk, and that’s not something people accuse me of often.

This is why I don’t date. Because I am destined to fuck it up.

Before I can apologize for offending her without meaning to, she bursts out laughing.

Likereallylaughing—head back, eyes shining, shoulders shaking in the passenger seat while I sit there, jaw clenched, feeling like a dumbass with a cowboy hat.

“Oh my God, Isaac.” She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m fucking with you. Ilovetacos. Let’s eat.”

I blink.

“You’re evil,” I mutter.

She winks but I’m still flustered.

“Seriously. That was mean.”

“Aww,” she pouts playfully, popping her door open. “Keep up, cowboy.”