***

She laughed. “Drabami.”

“I’m just an old country cowboy who doesn’t understand your carnival language,” he said with a grin. “Are we ready to go? I’m starving. Haven’t had anything since lunch and I’ve been looking forward to this date all day.”

“I’m ready. Do I need a jacket?” she asked.

“Not now, but you will by the time we get home. Weather says there’s a cold front on the way. Won’t drop us down to freezing, but the wind is fixin’ to be out of the north,” he said.

She picked up her black leather jacket and purse. He kept her hand tucked into his all the way out to his truck.

“Do you like Italian food?” He opened the door for her.

“Love it.” She buckled her seat belt.

“Good. It was a toss-up between the Texas Roadhouse for steaks or the Olive Garden for Italian,” he said and then jogged around the truck.

“I’ve never eaten at the Olive Garden but I love Italian. Blaze makes amazing lasagna,” she said when he was buckled in and driving down the lane. “I can’t wait for you to meet Blaze. You are going to like him. He’s a lot like Ace.”

She didn’t miss his jaws clenching and unclenching or his grip on the steering wheel, or even the way his back went suddenly ramrod straight. It might not be the best time to bring up Blaze’s name, but she hadn’t done it intentionally. His name had just popped out when she thought about his cooking. And anyway, she wasn’t going to walk on eggshells…not even for Raylen.

“Ace?” Raylen asked. “Why would he remind you of Ace?”

“Blaze is about Ace’s size, and his passion is flirting. He’s got a woman in every place we stop, and if he doesn’t have one, there’s a dozen waiting in line for a chance at him.” She paused and glanced over at Raylen, who seemed to be relaxing. “I could never fall for a man like that. Every woman I ran into in Walmart or the Dairy Queen might be one of his conquests.”

Raylen chuckled at first, then it turned into a full-fledged laugh that erased all the tension in the truck.

“One time Blaze and I both had one too many beers and wound up kissing. I don’t know what the women see in him. I felt like I’d just kissed my brother and he actually wiped my kiss from his lips with the back of his hand. Said he felt like he’d kissed a sister,” Liz told him. “Did you ever kiss anyone that felt like that?”

“Becca,” he answered with a nod. “When we were in eighth grade, we were at a Valentine’s party and got locked in a closet together after a game of spin the bottle. I don’t know if I kissed her or if she kissed me, but it was like kissing a sister. I never did kiss her again.”

A shot of jealousy flashed through Liz’s heart. Why did he have to bring up Becca’s name?