She wanted to ask him if a little leprechaun was going to appear or something, but just said, “Okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon.” She clicked off before he could offer any other pearls of wisdom for her to choke on, and tossed her cell phone into her bag in disgust.
She folded her arms tightly across her middle, glanced around, and noticed that the park was now teeming with people. She watched the line at the taco-quesadilla vendor for a moment and decided that it was a glorious spring day, and a quesadilla could go a long way toward cheering her up.
At the taco stand, she bought a plain cheese quesadilla and picked up some napkins. But when she turned around, she saw that her bench had been taken by a couple. In fact, all the benches that lined either side of the walk were filled, save one. Rebecca snagged it, put her purse beside her, as well as the wrapped quesadilla, and pulled out the paper to review the want ads. But when she reached for the quesadilla to unwrap it, the thought occurred to her that it might be spicy hot; she hadn’t thought to ask. She couldn’t eat spicy hot without something to wash it down, and wished she’d thought to buy a bottle of water.
Rebecca eyed the vendor’s cart; he wasn’t very far away and the line had dwindled to one guy. She could leave her paper and quesadilla to mark her spot, run over and get a drink, and run back before anyone could take it. Rebecca neatly folded the paper, put it down, the quesadilla plainly on top of it, then picked up her purse and hurried to the vendor’s cart, where she bought a bottle of water.
When she had shoved her change back into her purse, she turned back to her spot—but stopped mid-stride, absolutely stunned. A very nice-looking, well-dressed man was sitting on her bench, reading her paper and holding her quesadilla.
Rebecca gaped at him; her mind could not even absorb such appalling behavior. How could anyone be so . . . so cheap? What an inconsiderate, cheap-ass thief! The quesadillas were only a dollar, for Chrissakes!
That was the last straw for the day. Rebecca’s blood began to boil—this was exactly the sort of thing she was learning to overcome. Here was someone who was walking all over her, taking her for granted, using her things to get what he wanted. The old Rebecca would have walked on, indignant. The new Rebecca, however, was not going to take this lying down. She was not a doormat! She did not provide quesadillas and newspapers to the citizens of Austin at large.
The man glanced up as she sauntered toward him with a sly smile on her lips. He looked surprised, and smiled a little uncertainly as he put the quesadilla down. When Rebecca stopped directly before him, his smile broadened. It was, she noticed, a very nice smile on a very handsome face, which just made him all the more reprehensible.
“Hey,” she said, smiling softly, knowing full well the effect that had on most men.
“Hey,” he replied, snatching the bait and coming to his feet. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad-shouldered. He put his hands on his waist, grinning, waiting for her to say something.
Rebecca turned the charm up a notch and smiled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes. “I just noticed you sitting there,” she said, moving a little closer so that she was just inches from him, “and I was wondering . . .” She let her voice trail off, gave him another deceptively shy smile.
The man cocked a brow and with an appreciative smile, took her in, top to bottom. “Well, wonder away. In fact, would you like to take a seat and wonder?”
Rebecca smiled lustily.
He quickly moved the quesadilla and paper, making a spot for her.
She sat. She smiled. Thought it was a pity that he was really Hollywood handsome as he sat next to her, his gray eyes shining.
“I’m Matt, by the way.”
“Hi, Matt,” she said, and crossed her legs, baring her leg and leaning forward just enough that he could get a glimpse of her cleavage, if he dared.
Oh, he dared, all right. With a quick, furtive glance, he asked, “You were wondering?”
“I was wondering,” she said, lower still, so that he had to lean in to hear her, “if you’re always so . . .” She paused coyly.
He grinned. “So . . . what?”
“Cheap,” she whispered.
It had the desired affect; his brows suddenly dipped in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“CHEAP,” she said articulately, her smile gone. “You know, the type to screw your shoes on because you’re too tight to spend a whole buck on a quesadilla?”
He suddenly sat back, pushed a hand through his thick, sandy brown hair. “I’m sorry; I think you’ve confused me with someone else.”
“Rockefeller, perhaps?”
His frown deepened. “Look, lady, I don’t know what your problem is—”
“Other than the fact that you stole my paper and my quesadilla?”
“What?” he exclaimed, his voice admirably full of indignation for such a cheap ass. “I did no such thing!”
“Yes, you did!” she insisted. “I went to get a bottle of water—”
“Yeah, I know. I saw you,” he said, relaxing enough to give her a lopsided smile. “Actually, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”