Читать книгу An Unlikely Mommy - Tanya Michaels, Tanya Michaels - Страница 8

They crossed the parking lot toward Jason’s car, a small four-door that got good mileage and consistently high consumer ratings, and he asked Ronnie if she had a specific restaurant in mind.

Hardly—she was making this up as she went along. “Have you tried out the new one a couple of streets over, near the drugstore?”

The establishment had changed management multiple times, trying to find its place in the culinary community. It had briefly been a barbecue joint (put out of business by the superior Adam’s Ribs), a pizzeria, an Irish pub and—for about a week and a half—a sushi bar. Turned out, the citizens of this particular Tennessee town weren’t clamoring for sashimi and unagi. Ronnie kind of missed the wasabi, though.

He opened the passenger door for her. “I haven’t been there yet, but I’m game if you are.”

“I have no idea what kind of menu to expect. How do you feel about surprises?”

His grin was wry. “Some are more welcome than others.”

As soon as they walked into the restaurant, Jason indicated a framed oil painting of a dark-haired woman in a white cotton dress, which hung next to a sequined black velvet mariachi sombrero. “I’ll go out on a limb and guess they serve Mexican.”

A blonde with a bright smile met them, two laminated menus tucked against her chest. “Welcome to Tennessee Tacos, y’all.” Her hair had been pulled back in a sleek topknot, a large silk flower pinned to the side, and she was dressed much like the woman in the painting.

Tennessee Tacos? Ronnie followed the hostess to an orange booth, sending a silent prayer heavenward that this wouldn’t turn out to be a disaster.

There were actually quite a few patrons inside, although it was always difficult here to tell whether crowds were pulled in by great food or morbid curiosity. However, after her first bite of complimentary salsa—which cleared her sinuses and made her eyes water—Ronnie decided this place got her stamp of approval.

Yow. She grabbed the glass in front of her.

“Too hot for you?” Jason tried some, then reached for his own water.

“On the contrary, it’s perfect. I like it hot.”