The armband is probably the best buy if we decide to ride four or more.”
Always calculating the costs. She wondered if he’d glance at the County Seat books. Maybe there was a way to cut some costs there. Produce had been killing her budget this summer, but everything was so fresh and clean. She wanted to buy all the food. She filed the idea away. Tonight was date night. Not let’s-talk-business night.
“We’re still early for dinner.” She took in the sparkling rides and lights. “Let’s do the wristbands and pretend we’re teenagers.”
Ian chuckled as he ordered the wristbands from the totally bored teen in the booth. He took the blue band and clicked it on her wrist. Then he leaned down and kissed her.
“What was that for?” she asked as they came up for air.
His eyes twinkled in the now-bright lights of the carnival. “You said you wanted to act like teenagers. It’s been a while since I’ve stolen a kiss.”
As they climbed into a small, metal car to enter the haunted house, Angie grinned at Ian. That probably wouldn’t be the only stolen kiss this evening.
* * * *
Angie’s legs still felt wobbly from what she hoped was the final ride of the night. She’d been flipped and turned and jerked every way possible. It was called Satan, and the picture of the bucking bull on the entrance should have warned her of the ferocious ride ahead. Ian appeared fine as they sauntered toward the food court.
He turned and saw her lagging behind him. “Hey, are you all right?”
“You are going to tell me you don’t even feel a bit different after that last ride?” She took his offered hand and fell in step with him, dodging the crowd going toward the section of the fairgrounds where the carnival sat.
“Feel what? You mean the ride?” He grinned at her like the teenager she had wanted to pretend to be. “I thought it was gnarly. You want to go again before we eat?”
“Yeah, no. I have to be creative in the morning, and right now, it feels like my brain has turned into scrambled eggs.” She pointed to a table in the Basque Community Center booth. “I’ll sit there, you can order dinner.”
“What do you want?” He glanced at the wooden menu hung over the line of grills at the front of the booth.
“Estebe will know what to make me.” Angie laid her head on her arms, trying to fend off a migraine. “And a lemon-lime soda. Please.”
She heard Ian’s footsteps leave her as she took in the smells of the tent. Seasoned lamb, onions, some type of rice, and if she was right, a flatbread that Estebe liked to make for family meals to go with soup, especially on chilly fall days. The restaurant had been open a little over a year, and her employees had turned from strangers to family. Angie hadn’t been able to make that kind of connection at her first restaurant. At el Pescado, she’d always been hiring. One month, she’d replaced the entire kitchen staff only to have her sous chef quit a week later. Jobs were plentiful there, and there was always somewhere willing to pay a little more to get trained staff. And Angie believed in training.
Here, the wages she paid were higher than most of the other restaurants in the area, but she kept a stable staff both in the kitchen and the front of the house. If that meant she and Felicia took home a little less profit at the end of the year, that didn’t matter. She loved the way the business was developing.
“Angie, why are you looking like you got into the wine early?”
She looked up and into Estebe’s big brown eyes. Her sous chef appeared concerned. She sighed and pointed toward the end of the table. “Ian just tried to kill me.”
Estebe set a bowl of soup and a piece of warm flatbread in front of her, and Ian set the soda nearby. “I’m sure that is not true. Ian is a good man.”
“Rides and Angie just don’t get along.” Ian slapped Estebe on the arm. “How