Chapter Nine
Hunter’s hand rested at the base of Rachel’s back, guiding her through the parking lot, and she loved it. It was funny how something seemingly so commonplace with him felt so incredibly special to her.
Muffled music emanated from the large building. The sign overhead read Rosco’s.
This definitely isn’t the rodeo.
They walked to the hostess stand. “Reservation for Baron.”
Rachel’s gaze traveled the space—a large restaurant with hardwood floors and lights made out of Mason jars hung over the wooden tables. There looked to be about two hundred people seated, and they still had room for more. Waitstaff dashed about with white aprons fastened over all-black uniforms. The hostess led them to a table where the music, although distant, seemed to get louder.
Despite the expanse o
