Playing it safe, I avoid the laptop and pick up the coffee cup we knocked over. Straightening the napkin holder, I pluck out a napkin, wiping up the bit of coffee he had left in the cup.
“Come on.” He returns, my clothes in hand. “We need to get dressed. Ezequiel needs help with a cow stuck at the Stagecoach Pond.”
While I have no idea what kind of help I could possibly offer, I follow him upstairs. Back at his room, we both rush to get dressed. “I left you a couple of tacos in the warmer,” he says, putting an arm into the pullover. I’m not above sneaking a final look before he covers up that amazing body.
“Thank you.” Though, at the moment, food is the last thing on my mind.
“Think you can pack them to go?” he asks from the doorway to the closet. “And throw together some sandwiches for Ezequiel?”
“I’ll take care of it.” I tie off my shoelaces and head down to the kitchen. I saw cold cuts and cheese in the refrigerator when I helped him with dinner last night. I’m sure he’ll have some sort of condiments. And there was a bread box on the counter.
By the time he makes it into the kitchen, I have two sandwiches spread out on a plate. I fixed one ham and one roast beef since I don’t know what Ezequiel might prefer.
Addler walks in wearing the cowboy hat he had in his room. “Pile on the cold cuts. Ezequiel’s got a big appetite.” He puts the cooler he’s carrying on the counter and heads to the pantry.
I look down at the sandwiches, feeling a little silly. It’s moments like this where I’m reminded Addler and I live in different worlds. At home, we only use one slice of ham or bologna, so it’s what I did here. Following his instructions, I peel back the cover on the ham container. I catch the image on top, with a thick layer of ham in perfect folds. I can do that. Folding the cold cuts like I’ve seen on television creates a much more impressive view.
“Now, there’s a sandwich,” Addler confirms, returning with bottled water for the cooler.
“Did you want one?” I ask, dropping the bread on top. How could I not offer, when he fixed breakfast earlier and set it in the warmer for me.
“Would you mind?” He opens a cabinet and retrieves a pack of foil which he sets on the counter next to me.
“Of course not.” I reach for the loaf of bread. “What kind of cold cuts would you like?”
He sets an elbow on the counter, leaning to leave enough room for the gun belt he was wearing yesterday. “You choose.”
Talk about being put on the spot. I glance up to find him watching me. “Being that you mentioned always having beef available, I’m thinking you prefer your sandwiches to be ham.” I turn to the packages sitting in front of me. “Otherwise, the container wouldn’t be so much bigger than the others.”
His gaze meets mine, and he’s got that lazy half smile. “Very observant, Elena.” To my surprise, he sounds impressed. He reaches into the warmer and brings out a plate. “Don’t forget these.” He sets down the tacos he left for me. “You’ll have a chance to eat during the drive.”
Which reminds me of what happened to my burger. I reach out for three paper towels to wrap each sandwich along the bottom. All of it goes in a bag, along with a stack of napkins, and we’re heading out the door.
Addler locks up the house and we climb in the truck, storing the cooler and food in the back seat. We continue on the road we were on yesterday, giving me a chance to take in the scenery.
The road turns and a house comes into view. “Oh.” I straighten, captivated by a home in the distance. Large trees flank the front of the house. The bottom of the wall is covered in stone and lined with thick roses. I turn to Addler, curious. “Who lives here?”
He smirks. “Ezequiel.”
“Seriously?” That’s the last person I would have expected.
“It’s the Torres house,” he says, rolling up to a covered parking area with two long trailers. “It was built by the family, before my grandfather, Roman, came along. We were Torres back then.”
“I see.” It’s weird to think of him-them, with a different last name. As long as I can remember, it’s been the de Marcos this and the de Marcos that. They’ve always been bigger than life.
He puts the truck in reverse, backing up to the trailer. “Hold tight. Let me hitch it up.” He gets out of the truck, goes to the back seat, then glances my way. “Think you can fill the cooler with ice for me to save some time?”
“Sure.” I unbuckle the seat belt while he pulls water bottles.
“Slide over.” He waves a hand, and I pull up the center console on the truck, slipping past. When I get to his seat, he holds out a hand. Feeling a little sheepish, I take his hand and step down.
He gives me the cooler and points past the trailers. “The ice machine is over there.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I look around, making sure I don’t get surprised along the way.
“If it’s too heavy, yell.”
I give him a thumbs-up, which isn’t the finger I would have chosen. Does he take me for a wimp? This thing might hold two bags of ice, max.
Putting the cooler down, I take in the setup. There’s a deep shelf with trash bags, water bottles, and canned food. While the ice machine is outside, the wall is covered in a thick panel. Putting a finger to it, I conclude it’s Styrofoam. A good way to keep the brunt of the sun from hitting the unit directly. I’ve got to tell Bill about this. It would probably help the units behind the office building.
Bill. I swallow hard. Will he even be there for me to tell? I can’t think like that. There’s still a chance. I just have to make it through this weekend without Addler driving me crazy. These moments of having him be his old self then a perfectly nice guy then a jerk are stressing me out. I never know what to expect. Let’s not forget the panty-melting version I was just introduced to.
I breathe deep, letting a shiver go through me while opening the lid for the unit. A blast of cold air hits me straight on. It’s heavenly. A great contrast against the South Texas heat, even at this hour.
I unhook the wide scoop from one wall then use it to add ice to the cooler. Likely more than we’ll need. Setting everything back in place, I head to the truck. Addler’s pulling off a glove as he walks back to the driver’s side. He turns to check on me, adjusting his hat as he heads in my direction.
Again, he’s thrown me for a loop. I never expected to find cowboy-Addler, but it looks like he may not be playing dress-up. The clothes and boots he’s wearing are worn in all the right places.
“Here, let me get that.” He takes the weight of the container. “Thanks.” Placing it in the back seat, he adds the water bottles he’d pulled out. He closes the door, takes his hat off, and sets it between us as he climbs in.