Chapter Two

      “Oh, look at the flowers.” Angie sighed as Christopher guided her and Toby up the bougainvillea-lined path to Red.

      “Just wait until you see the courtyard inside,” Christopher said with as much pride as if he were showing off his own home. “Red is built around it. There’s a fountain I think you’ll love.”

      Angie stopped. “Red?”

      “Yes, that’s the name of the restaurant.” Christopher gestured to the tile nameplate attached to the wall just outside the door, which he held open as he tried to usher them inside, but Angie stopped.

      “Is this the same Red that’s owned by the Mendozas?” Angie asked.

      “One and the same,” Christopher said.

      “Wendy and Marcos Mendoza catered our wedding reception.” Angie sighed again as she looked around, taking it all in. “They have to be two of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” She turned to Toby. “I can’t believe we’re here. Chris, did you plan this?”

      He wished he could take credit for it, but until now, he’d had no idea what had taken place at their wedding. He’d been so intent on staying away to avoid clouding their day with bad vibes that he hadn’t realized he didn’t know the first thing about the event other than the fact that his brother had taken himself a bride.

      Regret knotted in his gut.

      “The Mendozas catered your wedding?” Christopher asked.

      “Yes, they did a beautiful job,” Angie said. “Everything was delicious. Oh, I hope that chicken mole they served at the reception is on the menu. I’ve been dreaming of it ever since.”

      A twinge of disappointment wove itself around the regret. Christopher knew it was totally irrational, but he had brought them here because he’d wanted to introduce them to something new, something from his world that he had discovered. Yet by a strange twist of small-world fate, Red was old news to them.

      “This place is so beautiful,” Angie cooed. “I could live here quite comfortably.”

      “I’ll bet we could.” Toby beamed at his wife. His love for her was written all over his face. Watching the two of them so deeply in love blunted the edges of Christopher’s disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Toby had settled down. Of all of his siblings, Toby had been the one who was the most family oriented, especially after taking in the three Hemings kids. He was happy for his brother and Angie. He hoped things worked out and that they would be able to adopt the kids. But although Christopher looked forward to being an uncle, he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life than the one he was living now.

      On their way to lunch Christopher had seized the opportunity to show off his new town and lifestyle. He’d loaded the newlyweds into his spankin’ new BMW and given them the fifty cent tour of downtown Red Rock.

      Although there were certainly fancier restaurants in town, none spoke to Christopher quite the way Red did. Obviously the Mendoza appeal wasn’t restricted to Red Rock, since Toby and Angie seemed to love their food as much as he did.

      Christopher held open the door as Angie and Toby stepped inside. He breathed in deeply as he followed them. It smelled damn good...of fresh corn tortillas, chilies and spices. There was something about the mix of old and new that appealed to him. The restaurant was housed in a converted hacienda that had once been owned by a Spanish family rumored to have been related to Mexican dignitary Antonio López de Santa Ana. Santa Ana was known as the Napoleon of the West. Christopher had recently learned that the current owners of the property, Jose and Maria Mendoza, had been fortunate to purchase the house and land at an affordable price before anyone realized its historical significance. The place couldn’t have been in better hands because the Mendozas had given the place its due reverence. That was especially true after the restaurant had been largely destroyed by an arson fire in 2009. Luckily, the family rebuilt and reopened after several months and had been going strong ever since.

      Inside, the restaurant was decorated with antiques, paintings and memorabilia that dated all the way back to 1845 when President James Polk named Texas the twenty-eighth state of the Union.

      In college, Christopher had complemented his business major with a history minor. So it was only natural that he liked the place for its history.

      But the food...he loved the place for its food.

      Red offered a mouthwatering selection of nouveau Mexican cuisine. The chef had a talent for taking traditional dishes such as huevos rancheros, the chicken mole that Angie was so crazy about and tamales, and sending them to new heights using fresh twists on old classics. The menu was bright and vibrant, familiar yet new and exciting.

      Christopher had experienced nothing like it in Horseback Hollow. His mother, Jeanne Marie, was a great cook, but her repertoire was more of the meat and potatoes/comfort food variety. The food at Red was an exotic and surprising twist on traditional Mexican.

      The chef was always coming up with new specials of the day and anytime Christopher was in, he asked him to taste test and share his opinion. Christopher loved being able to offer his input.

      “Good afternoon, Mr. Fortune,” said the hostess. “We’re so glad you chose to join us for lunch today. Come right this way. Your favorite table is ready.”

      The shapely brunette shot Christopher a sexy smile before she turned, hips swaying, as she led the three of them to an aged pine table next to a large window where they could enjoy the comfort of the air-conditioning, but still look out at the well-landscaped courtyard. As far as Christopher was concerned, it was the best seat in the house.

      After they were settled, the hostess handed each of them a menu. “Enjoy your lunch, and please let me know if you need anything.”

      She winked at Christopher before she turned to make her way back to the hostess station.

      That was quite obvious of her, Christopher thought as he watched her walk away on her high-high heels with the grace and assurance of a tightrope walker. Her skirt was just short enough to draw the eye down to her firm, tanned calves. Now, that was a woman who knew how to dress. Unlike Kinsley, who hid herself under all that heavy tweed fabric that left her looking buttoned-up and shapeless. What a shame.

      Suddenly, seeing Kinsley in a skirt and heels like that became his new fantasy.

      “I see you come here for the good service,” Toby said, a knowing glint in his eye.

      “Of course.” As Christopher turned back to his brother and Angie, a blonde caught his eye. She was was seated at a table to their left—and he couldn’t help noticing that she resembled Kinsley—

      Wait,