“Aww, hell no.” Bonnie paused and checked either side of the desk like she half expected a profanity censor to tromp out and kick her out from behind the desk. “I mean, heck no. This place is a little uptight for me, but it also beats standin’ on my feet for twelve hours waitin’ tables, so I’ll take it as long as I can get it.”

Cassie jerked her head toward the street. “I’m heading over for cheap Mexican food. You want anything?”

Bonnie’s gaze slid to the restaurant across the street and her smile dimmed. “Nah, I’m good.” She lifted her chin and pinned her attention back on Cassie. “Got a gourmet PB&J chillin’ in the break room fridge. No way I’m passing that up.”

Cassie knew that look. Had felt the stark want and hunger painted all over Bonnie’s face before she’d wiped all vestige of her reality away and put on a brave mask. If she was truthful, she’d put herself at risk to be right back in those shoes by moving out of her aunt’s house. All to prove a freaking point. “I’ve got one of my own waiting back there, too, but after the day I’ve had, I need a little indulgence. You sure you don’t want some? When I say they’re cheap, I mean I’m willing to swing for a few tacos as a welcome to the party gift.”

For a second, Cassie thought she’d refuse. In the end, Bonnie swallowed hard and dipped her head. “I’d appreciate that.”

Definitely good people. “Deal. See you in a few.”

Two minutes and a walk across the street later, she was second-guessing her urge to leave the television’s air conditioning behind. She was definitely going to have to give her hair and makeup one heck of a touch-up before her next round in front of a camera.

The bite of spices and simmering sauces hit her the moment she opened the door, followed by the urgent chatter of employees behind the counter racing to fill orders. With no drive through, crazy reasonable prices and decent food, El Torro was almost always busy. The post-bar crowd was especially fond of the longtime family-run restaurant, though how anyone dared to eat Mexican food after a hard night of drinking, Cassie couldn’t fathom.

Three deep in the line of customers waiting to order, Cassie studied the menu. If she scrimped and stuck to the dollar options, she and Bonnie could both pig out on a twelve-pack of tacos, but what she was really craving was the monster platter that gave her a taste of everything.

At least that was one thing she had on Lizbet. Never once had Cassie seen her eat anything but a salad. Cassie, on the other hand, could eat junk food morning, noon and night and still feel like a twig. One of the upsides of having a high metabolism.

A presence registered behind her a second before a rich masculine voice with a delicious Russian accent rumbled near her ear. “I’m not at all confident this establishment passed its food handling inspections.”