by A. J. Pine
“Half?” he said. “It’s that bad?”
Luis winced. “I’m already going to have to freeze some of the meat and poultry, and you know how I like my kitchen to be fresh and never frozen.”
Fresh versus frozen was the least of his worries right now.
All the contracting work in Oak Bluff came via word-of-mouth. He’d never needed to advertise his services because everyone knew the Callahan brothers would get the job done. But he wasn’t catering to just the locals anymore, and he wasn’t sure how else to get customers through the door other than a fancy website—which had set them back a few grand—and hopefully some long-distance referrals. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he certainly hadn’t banked on it being this hard.
“Skim a quarter off all your next orders, and we’ll take it from there,” Sam said.
“Only a quarter?” Luis protested, but before he could get another word out of his mouth, he was cut off by the sound of a woman’s voice coming from the dining room.
“Hello?” she called out. “Sam?”
Luis’s brows rose, and his worried expression morphed into a grin.
“You got a lady friend out there, boss man?” Luis teased.
Sam groaned. “You know I hate that word.”
“Lady friend?” Luis asked, his smile growing wider. “I don’t remember you saying anything about lady friend. Also don’t remember you having one, but that’s beside the point.”
Sam started toward the swinging doors that led to the dining room, but Luis was off his stool, breaking into a near sprint before Sam had the chance to pick up his own pace.
Luis didn’t push through the doors. Instead he peered through the slats, squinting. Seconds later he turned to Sam, his mouth hanging open.
“She’s here to see you?” Luis asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Why is that so hard to believe?” And why was he getting defensive? Delaney wasn’t here to see him in that capacity, but he didn’t think it would be so hard to fathom if she was.
“Because no woman is ever here to see you,” Luis reminded him. “Not that I’m assuming your heterosexuality or anything, but no guy has ever come looking for you either.”
Good lord. What was he thinking moving from one small town to an even smaller one? He’d thought living a few miles outside would give him some semblance of privacy, but that was obviously a crock.
“She’s a business acquaintance,” Sam said. “Helping out at the ranch while she’s here.”
Luis’s smile fell. “I need to cut one quarter off my produce order, but you got extra cash for this—acquaintance—of yours?”
“I’m not paying her anything other than room and board, and right now I need to feed her, so tell me what I can use.”
Luis narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure this is just business? Because in the food world, making a meal for someone is a very intimate gesture. It’s almost as sensual as sex.”
“You make food for people three times a day,” Sam said. “Does that mean you’re having intimate relations with all our patrons?”
Luis doubled over laughing, and Sam took that as an opportunity to nudge him out of the way of the swinging doors. “Just leave me something I can fix her and myself for lunch, okay?”
Luis was still laughing when Sam pushed through the doors to find Delaney brushing her hand along the knotty pine of a rocking chair in front of the unlit fireplace.
He strode up behind her. “A friend of mine from back home made that,” he said, and she spun to face him, hands behind her back as if she were a child who’d gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“You snuck up on me,” she said. “Figured you were the one laughing his ass off back there.” Luis was still at it. “Guess I was wrong.”
Her hair was damp, resting on the shoulders of a flowy white top that hung just below the button of a pair of frayed denim shorts that had flowers sewn into the material—Ivy’s design signature. A pink sheen covered her full lips, and where there had once been an old pair of tennis shoes, there was now a pair of honest-to-goodness cowboy boots, brown with white stitching.
“You look…clean,” he said, immediately wanting to kick his own ass for his lack of complimentary vocabulary.
She smoothed out her top even though he didn’t see any wrinkles. “Not too shabby when I don’t smell like the inside of a stable, huh?”
From behind the doors, Luis—who’d gone quiet for several seconds—burst out laughing again.
Sam’s jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. “Don’t mind him,” he said, loud enough for Luis to hear. “He was just leaving, because I’m sure as hell not paying him overtime to eavesdrop.”
“I’m salaried!” Luis called back. Then the laughter faded into the distance, which Sam hoped meant he had the kitchen to himself.
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Sorry about that. Luis—our chef—has a hard time keeping his nose out of other people’s business. But he’s heading out for his own lunch break now.” He called out the last sentence toward the kitchen and got no response.
“Wait a second,” Delaney said. “You had me meet you here for lunch but sent your chef home?”
He raised a brow. “What’s the matter? You think I don’t know my way around a kitchen?”
Delaney shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”
“After you,” Sam said, gesturing toward the swinging doors and hoping to hell Luis left him something easy enough to work with. He wasn’t at a complete loss when it came to food, but he was by no means a professional either.
He followed her in and let out a sigh of relief when he saw a loaf of bread and a block of cheddar cheese sitting on the steel prep island next to a bowl of apples. He brushed past Delaney to survey the ingredients closer and found a sticky note atop the sourdough’s plastic bakery bag.
Slice up a Honeycrisp nice and thin and layer between the extra-sharp cheddar. You’ll thank me! —Luis
“What’s that?” Delaney asked over his shoulder.
Startled, he snatched the note and crumpled it into his palm.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just Luis letting me know he doesn’t need this stuff for dinner prep. It’s all ours.”
He spun to face her, loaf of sourdough in hand.
“You want to cut the bread, and I’ll do the apples and cheese?” he asked.
She took the bread willingly. “Apples? Knows his way around a kitchen and is a bit of a gourmet with the grilled cheese, huh?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I haven’t fired up the griddle yet. There’s still time to burn the cheese.”
“Mmm,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut. The sound was almost sensual, and Luis’s stupid words about cooking and intimacy flooded his brain, making it hard to think straight. “I love when the cheese burns against the crust.”
He cleared his throat, and her eyes shot open. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just really hungry, and grilled cheese is one of my favorites. My empty belly kind of got the better of me.”
He pulled two cutting boards from the shelf under the island and two large knives from a drawer. Wordlessly the two stood side by side, slicing.
It was quiet. Too quiet. He could hear the soft sound of her breath as she exhaled.
“Music!” he blurted, pointing his knife at her, and Delaney practically threw hers across the island. Before he had time to say anything else, her hands clenched into fists. One slammed into his wrist while the other careened toward his face. Thanks to expert reflexes, though, he pivoted out of the way just in time so that her fist connected with nothing but air.
“What the hell was that?” he asked.
Her chest heaved as she inhaled and exhaled. “Me? What about you? Are you insane?” she asked. “You don’t yell at someone while they’re operating extremely sharp cutlery! And—and you don’t point extremely sharp cutlery at those who are operating said tools.”
She lowered both of her hands, and he
scanned them, making sure all fingers were present and accounted for. Then, feeling like an idiot, he slowly lowered his own knife.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. Just thought we could cut the tension with a little music.”
“What tension?” she asked, arms crossed. “We’re making lunch.”
He nodded to where her knife lay across the island, the blade teetering over the edge.
“That was a little intense, if you ask me. You almost clocked me in the jaw.” He raised his brows. “Almost.”
Delaney exhaled. “How’d you know I was gonna hit you? Not that I wanted to, by the way. Knee-jerk reaction.”
He chuckled. “The fist headed for my face was a pretty good clue.”
This time she groaned. “I meant your reflexes. Why wasn’t I fast enough? Not that I’m sorry I missed—I mean, now that it’s clear I may have overreacted.”
He shrugged. “Our firefighter-paramedics work long shifts, especially with no hospital in town. I think they spend more time providing ambulance services than they do putting out fires.”
She nodded. “I know. I used to live here.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Ambulance had to come pick up Wade once when he couldn’t pay up on a friendly loan.” She made air quotes around the word friendly.
“Does that have something to do with that knee-jerk reaction of yours?” he asked warily.
“No,” she said. “Maybe. You’re changing the subject. I was asking about you, remember?”
Yeah. He remembered. He also remembered using the same sort of evasion a time or two when he didn’t want to talk about himself. Funny how he didn’t feel the need to use it now.
“Right. So the firehouse…They put together a little gym out back, even built a boxing ring.” He shrugged. “I never fought for sport but have trained for years for fun. Sometimes the guys let me spar with them.” It was only then that something clicked into place. His reflexes were good, but she almost had him. That was no amateur left hook she threw at him.
“You’ve trained, too, haven’t you? Delaney, did Wade ever—”
“No.” She cut him off. “He stole my money, but he never raised a hand to me. Some of the jerks who came after him, though…I learned real quick that the only person who was going to protect me was me.”
He got that, but her determination didn’t hide the tremor in her voice. It didn’t stop him from finishing the thought in his head. Did Wade ever hurt you? Simply thinking the words brought on a fierce desire to be the one who protected her from even the possibility of something like that happening.
He cleared his throat. “What about your family back in Vegas?”
“Why all these questions about me? What about you? Don’t you have enough around here to do for fun?”
Aah, the masterful art of misdirection—not just a boxing technique. He was well versed in it both inside and outside the ring.
“You first,” he said, buying himself some more time.
She sighed. “My parents work seven days a week. And they’ve been protecting me long enough. I have a younger sister, Beth. And she sometimes still needs my protecting, though not the physical kind. It’s more about making good life decisions.”
“So you want to fix her,” Sam said.
Delaney scoffed. “No. Sometimes people need a little help figuring out their path. There’s nothing wrong with that, especially when it comes to family.”
Or ex-husbands. He felt like a jerk just for thinking it, but she’d said it herself. She couldn’t fix Wade. He knew the type. His mom was a fixer and couldn’t fix his father, so she left. He never wanted to be anyone’s “project” other than his own.
“Hey,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Your turn.”
She wasn’t letting him off the hook. “I have a lot on my mind.” The muscles in his neck and shoulders tensed. “Sometimes I need something a little more cathartic than a trail ride or toasting marshmallows around a bonfire.”
Ben and Colt didn’t even know how he spent the occasional night off. As long as it didn’t interfere with the ranch, they didn’t bother one another about what they did with their time away. Ben was still working on the whole not-interfering-with-the-ranch part, but he and Colt seemed to have it under control.
“Fair enough.” She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her denim shorts. “You want music? Fine. But I get to pick.”
She fired up a playlist that started with Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.”
He stifled a laugh, guessing this was likely some sort of workout playlist. He had a similar one.
She retrieved her knife from the opposite end of the island and went back to work slicing the bread.
“Maybe while I’m stuck here—” she started, but he jumped in before she could finish.
“Oh no you don’t, Vegas. While you’re stuck here, you’re working off your free room and board, remember? Besides, my time in the ring is my time in the ring, and I’m not about to…to share my time in the ring.”
Her nostrils flared and she slid the stack of sliced sourdough in his direction.
“And I’m not about to share my land, so I guess we’re at a standstill, aren’t we?”
He gritted his teeth. Minutes ago he was this close to taking her in his arms and telling her everything would be all right. Lucky for him, she reminded them both why she was here.
After that, he let the music fill the space between them—everything from Slim Shady to Pistol Annies. He slathered butter on one side of each slice of bread and pieced the sandwiches together while the griddle heated. Then, spatula in hand, he made what he thought looked like the best damned grilled cheese he’d ever cooked. But their taste buds would be the judge of that.
He plated and sliced each of the two masterpieces in half, gooey extra-sharp cheddar mixed with Honeycrisp apple spilling like lava from the center. He retrieved a pitcher of iced tea from the beverage cooler and poured them each a glass. Then he took the liberty of tapping the pause icon on her phone, the sudden absence of music tossing them into an abrupt silence.
He cleared his throat. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. More earning my keep?”
He nodded. “Checking out a possible new trail this afternoon. One that supposedly ends at a swimming hole that I think our guests would like. Just gotta make sure the terrain is safe for all riders, regardless of skill level. How are you on a horse?”
“I can hold my own,” she said, then sank her teeth into her sandwich. “Oh mah Gah.”
Her words didn’t come out quite right with the food in her mouth, but it was enough for Sam to know he’d exceeded her expectations as far as his kitchen competence was concerned.
“And to think you doubted my abilities,” he bragged, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. Then he bit into his sandwich and had to keep himself from moaning with pleasure. “Damn,” he said under his breath after he swallowed. “Luis better not mess up our professional relationship with Anna.”
“Who’s Anna?” Delaney asked. “I mean, not that I care about any women you know. I’m just curious. Making conversation. Since we have to sit here and eat.”
Sam’s brow furrowed, and she took a larger bite than her first, effectively shutting down her ability to say any more.
“Anna’s farm supplies the dining hall with pretty much all our dairy and produce. And Luis—my chef and the laughing eavesdropper from before—has a thing for her.”
She nodded. “And I’m guessing you’re a no-fraternizing-in-the-workplace kind of guy? Even though, if you want to get technical about it, she doesn’t exactly work for you.”
Sam brandished his almost-devoured half sandwich. “Everything you’re eating right now—except for the bread—is Anna’s. The butter, the cheese, the damned Honeycrisp apples? All hers. If the next kitchen emergency text I get from Luis is the one where he tells me he messed this up—”
Delaney snatched the
sandwich from his hand, tore off a chunk between her thumb and forefinger, and shoved it into his open mouth. Her fingers lingered on his bottom lip, and her eyes grew wide with something like confusion or surprise or a mix of the two until he finally closed his mouth, and she snatched her fingers away.
“Sorry,” she said. “But there was this vein in your forehead that was sort of pulsing, and—do you ever just take a few seconds to relax?”
No, he didn’t relax. This place—the ranch—it was his life. It occupied his waking hours, and he dreamed about running the place when he slept. Nothing else mattered. Because the second he stopped moving full steam ahead, he’d be alone with his thoughts, and that was not something he enjoyed.
He chewed his food, then swallowed. “I’ll tell you what,” he said coolly. “You find me an extra few seconds in the day, and I’ll do just that. Until then”—he snagged what was left of his lunch in one hand, picked up his iced tea with the other, and downed the whole glass—“we got work to do. Grab whatever you need for the trail ride and meet me at the stable in thirty. I should warn you though. No air-conditioning on the back of a horse.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I told you I can rough it, Callahan. So you’re going to have to find another way to break me if that’s what you’re trying to do.”
Break her? No. He wasn’t a jerk, even if his brother and Colt tended to disagree. She asked for him to put her to work, so he had. Maybe he came on too strong, but he just wanted her to see it all—what they’d built from nothing—and convince her to change her mind. Maybe she’d let him buy her out in interest-free installments so he didn’t have to get the bank involved.
“Just helping you earn your keep, Harper.” He winked at her. “See ya in thirty.”
He strode out the kitchen’s back door, sandwich still in hand, and took another bite. But it didn’t matter how good the thing tasted—and it was damned good. He couldn’t shake the memory of her fingers resting on his lip or the heat that passed from her skin to his.