"That actually sounds pretty nice," I admitted.
"Okay, you'll let me take you out?" he asked.
I nodded, and he picked up my purse and held it out to me.
Apparently, we were supposed to head right out. That suited me fine.
I took the purse and followed him out to his big old truck. He held every door open for me, very carefully.
I would have protested, but I'd seen enough of ranch men to know that he expected to do that to every woman for his entire life, and I wouldn't win that battle.
Besides, I had to admit that it was sweet.
"So, where are we headed?" I asked.
"What do you like?" he asked in reply, "Steak? Italian? Mexican?"
"I like all of those," I admitted, "I know that's not helpful, but I'm hungry and all of that sounds great."
"Mexican it is," he said, "I think I could go for something spicy."
He smiled at me a little sidelong, and I rolled my eyes, but smiled back. It had been a long time since I'd gotten cheesy pick-up lines, they were starting to feel novel and interesting again.
Maybe it was just Clint saying them, though.
The ride into town was nice. Companionable.
When we pulled up in front of a Mexican place that had never been, I turned to him and grinned.
"I'm glad you didn't go surly," I said, "It's not fun predicting whether or not you'll talk to me."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"You're not going to poke around my farm for your job again, are you?" he asked.
"Not planning on it," I said.
"I'm much friendlier with pretty women than with government inspectors," he assured me.
"Brandon said that you're that way with everyone," I protested as he held the door to the restaurant open for me.
"Brandon talks too damn much," he grumbled, "And he's not a pretty girl, so how would he know how I treat them?"
I laughed.
"Fair enough," I said.
The hostess held up two fingers and Clint nodded. She picked up two garish menus and showed us to a quiet booth in the back corner.
"Good spot," he grunted, standing back to give me the choice of seat.
I took the bench nearest the door, and he sat across from me.
"Brandon lives on your property?" I asked, "You don't see that at a lot of ranches any more."
"Yeah, well, I can't handle nighttime emergencies all by myself," Clint said, "I pay him and Will a little extra to live at the ranch."
"Good call," I said, nodding, "I've seen what happens when a ranch is left all alone for a night when someone has to go out of town suddenly."