Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(17)

“Good. There’s a bunkhouse if you need a place to stay.”

“That’ll work. Thanks, Cash, I appreciate it more than you know. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Soon as he hung up, Chase let out a whoop and spun around.
Ava stood in the open space between the barn and the fence. Her hands jammed in the front pockets of her hoodie, sunshine glinting off her hair. Looking so drop-dead gorgeous he almost forgot to breathe.
“That was a pretty enthusiastic whoop,” she remarked.
“I got some good news for a change.”

Ava didn’t ask him to elaborate. “You ready to rip it up on the ATV?”

Chase shook his head. “I’ve gotta eat first. Is there any food in the house?”

“Just the basic stuff I brought. Coffee, creamer, grapes, salad, bread and a couple cans of soup.”

“That’s what you call food? Please tell me you ain’t one of them actresses who starves herself to look like a heroin addict.”

“Do I look like I starve myself?”

His gaze might’ve lingered on certain curves longer than polite. “No, Hollywood, you look exactly like a woman ought to. Let’s head to town. The Shell station has the best chilidogs I’ve ever tasted.”

“Do they have tofu dogs?”

Chase’s smile fell. “Oh hell no. You’re not a vegetarian?”

“And if I was?” she intoned sweetly.
“I’d take it as my sworn duty as the son of a cattleman to send you packing off McKay land immediately.”

There was that little sexy smirk again. “Relax, cowboy. I’m a carnivore to the core. I seriously doubt Wyoming can boast the best chilidog, but I’m willing to give it a fair shake.” She pointed at him with her car keys. “You brag, you buy.”

“Deal.”

When Ava started to jerk on the handle to open the barn door, Chase gently moved her aside. He wasn’t sure if he expected to see her ripping it up in a Ferrari, but the vehicle behind the door was a letdown. A black four-door RAV4. With Colorado plates. “You didn’t drive here?”

“I flew to Denver, rented this and drove the rest of the way. So I really don’t care if you spill chili and cheese all over the seats.”

There was another glimpse of her bizarre sense of humor, which made her seem normal and not movie starish.
In Sundance, Chase pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head. “You’ll have to go inside and load them up.”

“Why can’t you help?”

“Family. Fans. I’m on the down low, remember?”

“What exactly am I slathering on these dogs besides chili?”

“Mustard. Onion. A couple of squirts of that fake cheese.” Chase dug a crumpled twenty from his front pocket and pressed it into her hand. “And anything else that strikes your fancy.”

“Should I leave the car running in case you need to make a quick getaway from your adoring fans?”

“No, but I tell you what. I’ll keep it running in case you do,” he shot back.
She laughed. “We’re quite the pair, huh?”

Chase slumped into the seat, trying to stay inconspicuous.
After almost ten minutes, the car door opened. “Careful, those are hot and oozing stuff out the sides.”

“That means you did it right.” Chase peeked inside the bag she’d dropped on his lap. Two bundles wrapped in white parchment paper, two single-serving packages of nacho cheese Doritos and two Heath bars. When she shoved two bottles of grape soda in the beverage holders, he gave her a dubious look. “How’d you know this is exactly what I would’ve gotten?”