Mendoza's Return by Susan Crosby Page A

needed to be careful not to add fuel to the rumorfires that would flare now—and the bigger problem for her of keeping her own fires under control.
    She wasn’t sure there was an extinguisher large enough to handle that.
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    Rafe made his way up the street to Red, the restaurant owned by his Uncle José and Aunt Maria Mendoza, and managed by his younger-by-two-years brother, Marcos. Their older brother, Javier, lived in town and showed up now and then to hang out with them, but their younger brother, Miguel, lived in New York City and rarely came home. They had a half-sister from their father’s first marriage, Isabella Mendoza Fortune, a surprise but welcome recent addition to the family. Rafe liked that his family had expanded with the addition of Isabella, especially now that his mother had passed away.
    The atmosphere at Red, a converted hacienda and historical treasure, appealed to Rafe. The interior and the courtyard were classy and colorful, filled with antiques dating back to the mid-nineteenth century, when Texas had become a state. Paintings depicting the battles between Texans and Mexicans to free the republic from Santa Ana’s rule hung on dark wood walls, visually soothing and stimulating at the same time.
    As was the exquisitely prepared food, the tempting, spicy scents drifting through the air as Rafe entered, making his mouth water. Even without thefamily connection, it would be his favorite restaurant in town.
    â€œHola, mi hermano,” Marcos said, spotting him, giving him a big hug. “It’s good to see you out of your suit and tie and looking like a Texan again. Did you leave your Stetson in the car?” he teased.
    â€œActually, I did. I found a couple of my old ones in the attic at Dad’s when I went looking for my old trophies.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you put up a wall of fame in your house.”
    â€œNope. At my office.” He grinned. “Surprisingly, people are generally impressed by such things, even if brothers aren’t.”
    â€œBrothers are more honest.”
    Rafe laughed.
    â€œYou here for dinner?” Marcos asked.
    â€œTakeout. You know what Dad and I like. Give me enough for leftovers, too, please. And a couple pieces of your Mexican chocolate cake.” Rafe would take the leftovers home to his father when he and Melina were done.
    Marcos had already started toward the kitchen. He stopped and turned around. “Two pieces?”
    Rafe held up two fingers.
    Marcos cocked his head. “You have a date.”
    â€œHow did you come to that conclusion?” Rafe started to cross his arms, then realized how defensive it would look.
    â€œHuh. You didn’t say no. Interesting. So. Not justa date, but someone you want to keep private, even from your favorite brother.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I’ll add taquitos and guacamole to your order. I happen to know your date has a healthy appetite.”
    â€œAnd you know this how?”
    Marcos shrugged. “Small town. Big grapevine. Apparently you were seen talking with Melina at Angie’s wedding.”
    â€œSo? It would’ve been rude to ignore her. That doesn’t make her my date.”
    â€œYou’re still not denying it.” Marcos moseyed closer to Rafe. “Have you seen her since then?”
    â€œOn business, yes.”
    â€œSo, a little while ago when you went to her office? Was that business?”
    â€œHave you got surveillance cameras all over town?” Rafe asked, exasperated.
    â€œBetter. A constant flow of customers, most of whom know our family and Melina’s. Everyone loves a good speculation, myself included.” Marcos gave Rafe a good, long stare. “Dad loves chocolate cake. Melina orders it when she comes here. You don’t eat dessert. Easy conclusion. Give me something harder to figure out.” He took off for the kitchen.
    â€œGood evenin’. Welcome to Red,” said a pretty