showed her around buildings where he lived and worked from April through the end of fire season in autumn, he noticed that she seemed tense and even a little nervous.
He hoped it was because they were about to go out on their first real date. Nerves were an indicator that she had some kind of emotional investment in seeing him again.
If he was going to be honest with himself, he was suffering from a few of those nerves himself. Right now, he felt like he was standing at the open door of a plane, waiting for the jump signal, with the wind rushing by and every sense on high alert before he launched himself into ten thousand feet of empty air.
He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since Saturday.
The whole time that they'd been putting on a lovey-dovey act for her family, the amazing burst of chemistry between them had felt very real. He badly wanted to kiss her again, this time with no critical eyes watching and judging, and discover where things led… Hopefully to bed.
And if he was really lucky, he'd be asking her for a second date over breakfast tomorrow, after a long night spent doing everything except sleeping.
He ended his tour in the huge, warehouse-like space of the smokejumpers' parachute loft and workshop, where he'd spent most of the previous week sitting at one of the many sewing machines or rigging tables.
Most of his teammates were still at work in the loft. He and Maggie stopped to say hi and chat with Thor and the others.
By this time, everyone had heard the story about Steve pretending to be Maggie's fiancé. As expected, they'd spent the last two days giving him a hard time about being a "hunk for hire."
To his relief, no one teased Maggie about it now, not even her childhood friend Thor.
After greetings had been exchanged, she told them, "I brought you guys some treats. I put them in your dining room—please help yourselves."
As Thor followed the general stampede out of the parachute loft, he paused to tell them, "Have fun, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Oh, and if you're going to Los Pericos, Maggie, try the prickly pear margarita. Cassie loves those, and there aren't any other restaurants in the area who serve them."
"Prickly pear, huh? I'll definitely have to try that," Maggie responded, smiling. She turned to Steve. "Speaking of which—should I drive?"
Steve had to laugh. "If you want me to drive, we'll end up walking there. I mean, it's not that far, but—" He gave her a self-deprecating smile as he pointed down at his pirate peg-leg crutch.
"Got it." To his pleasure, she took his arm.
Despite her outwardly calm demeanor, he felt the jittering of her pulse through her fingertips as they made contact with the bare skin of his arm.
She was definitely wound up about something, and he hoped to hell it was him.
Los Pericos was a family-run Mexican restaurant located just a couple of blocks down the street from the base. It was a favorite with the smokejumpers, because it served good homestyle food in large portions for reasonable prices.
Now, as Steve escorted Maggie through the restaurant's massive, iron-bound wooden front door, he began to have second thoughts about his choice. Especially now that he knew that she dined at high-end places like Salt & Bourbon.
He knew how Tina would have reacted when walking into Los Pericos for the first time.
His sister would have looked around the dining room, with its mismatched, brightly painted wooden chairs and tables, hand-painted murals on the plastered walls depicting a lush jungle scene, and the collection of gaudy papier-mâché parrots hanging from the dark wooden ceiling beams, and pronounced the whole thing "tacky."
Maggie, on the other hand, inhaled deeply and smiled as they entered the restaurant and a wave of savory scents washed over them. Steve's mouth began watering at the fragrance of roasting meat mingled with cumin, coriander, garlic, and other savory seasonings.
"The food here smells amazing," she told him. "You'll have to tell me what your favorite dish is."
"He always orders the pork carnitas," Carla, the young, pretty Mexican-American hostess said as she approached them, a set of tall, laminated menu sheets in one hand. "¡Hola, Steve!" She indicated his knee-crutch. "You had a little accident?"
"Something like that," he agreed. "Carla, this my friend Maggie."
"Pleased to meet you, and welcome to Los Pericos." Carla gave Maggie the once-over, then brightened. "Wait, aren't you the woman who