The restaurant wasn’t big, but what it lacked in space it made up in charm. The walls were painted a warm terra-cotta color, and hung with crosses and tin mirrors and wrought-iron candle holders. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, none of the candles had been lit, but Evan saw how it was probably a very romantic space in the evening.
So romantic, actually, that he couldn’t help wondering at Zoe’s motives for bringing him here, even if it was still broad daylight. But she just chattered away about how she loved the food here, and how it was nice to have something decent here in Fountain Hills so they didn’t always have to drive down into Scottsdale to get a good meal.
She ordered sangria, and promptly produced her I.D. when the waitress asked for it. Evan wasn’t sure about the wisd
