Some Like It Hot (Sweetrock Cowboy Romance Book 1)
Page 6
“Kitchen? Does he work here?” Sam was confused. She thought Nick owned a restaurant. What was he doing working here? Unless…
“This is our family restaurant. Started by our great-granddaddy and run by our parents…before they died.” Rena’s eyes misted. “Nick’s doing everything he can to keep it afloat, but honestly, I just don’t know.” She looked down at Amy and fluffed her hair, then plastered a smile on her face. “Well, you didn’t come here to hear my tale of woe. You ready to go home, pumpkin?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Amy grabbed her horse from the top of the table and started away, and then she stopped and turned to Tessa. “Now don’t forget. You’re gonna take me to see Nacho.”
“I won’t.” Tessa watched them leave with a wistful smile on her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have promised that.”
The waitress appeared and they ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and beer then got into a discussion about old times. Sam wanted to ask more about Nacho, but they started to reminisce about their college days and by the time the burgers and beers came they were giggling just like they used to back in college. It felt good. Sam hadn’t laughed with anyone like that in a long time.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Tessa. They could share any secret. She could tell Tessa any of her troubles and know she would understand. And they could depend on each other for anything. A pang of loneliness sprang up inside Sam as she realized that while she had friends in Boston, none of them were quite as close as she and Tessa.
Sam lapsed into thought as she ate her burger. She’d been under the assumption that Nick’s restaurant was doing good, but obviously, it wasn’t. Was that why he was in the chili contest? Maybe he needed that prize money as badly as she did. Her heart swayed a bit in his favor. She still didn’t approve of him using the raffle ticket bribe, but she could see how he would be tempted, especially after her cornbread muffins had stolen the show. She knew how it felt to be desperate and needing that money to dig out of a hole. Maybe she had been too harsh in judging him.
They were almost done with their burgers when Beulah appeared at the corner of the table. “So, I saw those cornbread cupcakes you made for the chili contest. Pretty fancy.”
Another pang shot through Sam. Her cupcakes had not only drawn customers away from Nick’s tent but from Beulah’s, too. She hoped the woman wasn’t upset with her. “Thanks.”
“Sam’s a top notch pastry chef.” Tessa added.
Beulah nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not what you do in Boston, right?”
Sam shook her head. “No, my parents always felt it would be better to be a head chef and open my own restaurant.”
“But you prefer pastries, don’t you?” Beulah said.
Sam frowned at Beulah. Was it that obvious? “How do you know?”
“Oh, I’m perceptive. You did draw a big crowd with them.” Her eyes saddened as she looked around the restaurant, caught the eye of a busboy and nodded encouragement to him. “We could use something like that in here to draw a crowd.”
“Sure could.” Tessa was studying Sam over the rim of her frosted beer mug in a way that made her uncomfortable.
“Well, I’m sure you can find a pastry chef in Sweetrock.” Sam dragged one of her fries through a puddle of ketchup.
“Maybe.” Beulah turned back from her survey of the restaurant floor to look at Sam. “I noticed your tent at the fair is nicely organized. The Bradfords…well…I love ‘em like family, but they ain’t that organized. I should know. I’ve worked here for a few generations of ‘em. The restaurant used to thrive in spite of that, but now…well, they could use some organization. Can’t run a restaurant proper without it these days. Do you find that your organizational skills help you run your restaurant?”
Sam blanched. She didn’t actually run a restaurant. In fact, she didn’t even work in one anymore. Ironically, she suspected it was her organizational skills that had gotten her fired. She’d always been very organized and had taken over the books at the restaurant as well as some of the day to day decisions and menu planning. Lizette had been jealous because the restaurant owner was impressed with Sam’s abilities.
The thing was, Sam had never been told why she’d been fired. She’d just been told she was no longer needed. She was sure Lizette had lied to the owners. Maybe she'd told them customers complained about Sam's cooking, or that Sam was stealing or even that her menu decisions were causing a downturn in diners. Whatever it was, Sam was sure that Lizette had used her good looks and skills at manipulating people to get rid of her. There was nothing Sam could do about it.
Nick came out of the kitchen. Even in the white chef jacket and black and white checked pants he looked hot. He scanned the dining room, homed in on Beulah and arrowed toward them. “You wanted to see me? Is something wrong?” His gaze flicked down at Sam’s half-finished burger. “Is there a problem with the burger?”
“No, it’s great.” Sam caught Tessa pointing covertly to the corner of her lip, and she swiped at hers. Did she have ketchup there?
Nick turned to Beulah. “What, then? Rodney said you signaled him for me to come out.”
Nick nodded at the busboy who Sam had seen Beulah nod to earlier. Had Beulah’s nod been a code to summon Nick? She didn’t have anything like that at her restaurant. Correction. Her former restaurant. Maybe she would institute something at her new one.
“Well, far be it from me to meddle, but I was just talking to Sam about her cornbread cupcakes, and I got to thinking we could use something like that around here. You know, a lot more ladies would come in if we had a proper dessert menu and some lighter fare,” Beulah said.
Nick crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Beulah. “What do you mean? We’ve had the same menu for a hundred years.”
“Exactly my point.” Beulah gestured to the half-empty restaurant. “Things have changed in a hundred years. Diners tastes have changed. We need to keep up with the times if we want to draw in the crowds.”
Nick glanced around as if noticing for the first time how empty the restaurant was. “Yeah, but we still have the regulars… and besides, I don’t know if I like those cornbread cupcakes.” His gaze turned to Sam, his eyes hard and accusing. “That seemed like a little bit of a cheat.”
Sam’s back stiffened. Who the hell was he to be talking about cheating? “Oh, and giving away tickets to the beer tent isn’t?”
Nick flushed, and Beulah looked at him over the tops of her half-moon glasses. “Yeah, that was going a little too far, Nicky.”
Nick rubbed his hand through his hair, a flush creeping into his cheeks. “I guess you’re right. I do apologize for that. Maybe it was going a bit too far. But Sam started it with her cupcakes and Daddy always taught me that if someone played dirty, you had to play dirtier to win.”
His eyes dropped to the corner of her lip. Did she still have ketchup there? She swiped at it again. “I wasn’t playing dirty!”
“Well, now, Sam, I do think you made those to give yourself an advantage, didn’t you?” Beulah’s stern look pierced Sam. For a little old lady, she was intimidating. “Strictly speaking, it’s the chili that is supposed to draw the crowd over.”
Sam deflated. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I was wrong to do that.”
“Good. Then you two should shake hands and call a truce.” Beulah waved her hand between Nick and Sam.
“Well, I hardly think that’s…” Sam started, but the stern glare she got from Beulah told her not to argue.
Nick stuck his hand out. “Truce?”
Sam put her hand in Nick’s. It was warm. Friendly. She looked up at his velvety brown eyes and her heart hitched. She struggled to act casual even as she knew she was holding his hand for a bit too long.
Beulah cleared her throat and Nick slowly broke the handshake.
“So anyway, Sam here is really organized in her booth, and she’s a whiz with desserts. I think we could use her here.”
“What?” Nick and Sam jerked their gaze from
each other to scowl at Beulah.
“Yeah. We need to attract more womenfolk. Sam’s got experience.”
Sam looked at Tessa for help, but she just raised a brow, pointed to the corner of her mouth and shrugged. “You do have the experience they need.”
Sam picked up her napkin and swiped at her mouth again.
Nick shook his head. “We’re not looking to hire anyone right now.”
Sam held up her hand. “And I’m not looking for a job.”
“Right. See. So we’ll have to just work things out the way we always have.” Nick looked pointedly at Beulah. “Speaking of which, we both better get back to work.
“Besides, I’m heading back to Boston in a week,” Sam added.
“Uh-huh.” Beulah shot Tessa a wink before she started toward the front of the restaurant, managing to get the last word as she parted. “I’ve heard that one before.”
7
The rib-eye steak sizzled as Nick placed it in the carefully seasoned pan. The smell of grilled meat and fried onion rings cut through the air as he shifted his weight on the rubber mat under his feet. The restaurant couldn’t take another bunch of screw-ups like he’d made the other night. He had to focus on cooking, but his attention kept straying to Sam.
There was something about her that affected him like no other woman. Sure, she was beautiful, but Nick had dated many beautiful women before. And he could tell she was smart. She had a fire in her eye that made Nick’s blood race.
She’d looked cute out in the restaurant with that blob of ketchup on the side of her mouth. And even though he was still a little mad about the trick she’d pulled with the cornbread cupcakes, he’d had all he could do to stop himself from kissing it off.
Thoughts of kissing Sam made his body tighten. But that was dangerous territory—best that he direct his thoughts from Sam to something more practical. He thought he’d seen a flicker of interest in her sexy gray eyes, but she’d be gone in a week and where would that leave him? Though, what a week it could be. He almost dropped the spatula thinking about what he could get up to with Sam in a week’s time.
Too bad it was the week of the chili contest and Nick had to focus on cooking chili and not trying to wrangle a filly into his corral. No matter how tempting a ride around the corral with her would be.
Focus.
And what the heck had Beulah been doing going on about hiring her? When that old woman got a bee in her bonnet about something it was hard to dissuade her, but they didn’t really need desserts or organization that bad, did they?
Nick glanced at the stainless steel bar where they put the incoming orders. It should be crowded with them at this time of night, but there were only two. His stomach sank. Beulah was right. He did need to do something to turn things around in the restaurant after the contest was over.
That was if he even still owned the restaurant.
If he didn’t have ten thousand dollars by the end of the month, the bank would take it. One hundred years in the same family and Nick would be the one to lose it.
Would a menu change really bring in more people?
Images of Sam in this very kitchen organizing it and cooking right along with him drifted to mind. He imagined how it would feel to be working in the same area, their bodies close as they passed in the narrow area or reached for the same pot.
Focus.
Nick turned the flame down under the pan. Why would Sam want to come way out here in the middle of nowhere to work in a restaurant when she had better opportunities in Boston? Heck, she wanted to open up her own place, not come work for some old steakhouse. She probably already had a place picked out and plans in the works.
It was crazy for Beulah to think she would even consider working at The Chuckwagon. In this outdated and disorganized kitchen where his grandpa had cooked alongside his grandma and his pa alongside his mother, and someday Nick hoped he would cook alongside…
Well, no sense in thinking that far into the future, the restaurant might not even be his when he found someone to share his life with.
An even crazier thought flashed through his mind. Him and Sam a few years from now, a pack of kids running around the restaurant. Their kids. Even a daughter like Amy. His eyes fell back to the steak, and he flipped it over on the other side.
Focus.
He had no right to be thinking about a future. Not when Rena and Amy had theirs tied so closely to his. If anyone knew that a marriage doesn’t always work out, it would be Rena. Nick’s heart twisted when he thought of Amy with no father. He could tell she was confused as to where her daddy was. Why didn’t he come to see her? Didn’t he love her?
Nick had tried his hardest to fill those shoes, but he was no substitute for a real father. He hadn’t done a very good job of it either considering that he’d failed her by losing Nacho. Sure, he tried to make up for it by buying her toy horses, but it was obvious the girl’s heart was broken that he’d had to give up the horse. Heck, his own heart was broken about that. But there was no other way. He’d had to sell off everything he owned just to pay off most of the family debt, and now he had no place to keep Nacho or money to board him.
He was lucky Evangeline at Trail Riders was taking him in and would let Nick buy him back if he ever got the money. But right now he had no idea if that would ever happen. He was putting everything he had into saving the restaurant, and if that didn’t work, getting his horse back would be the least of his worries.
He kept his eyes glued to the steak as Beulah’s words played back in his head. She thought they needed a change of menu. Was that true? It had always been beef, elk, bison, a little chicken, and sometimes salmon. It was everything a man could want to eat. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was everything a man would want to eat, but not much for women.
Sam had attracted the women to her booth with those cupcakes at the chili contest. Maybe Beulah was right. Maybe they did need to change the menu. Maybe Sam would give him some advice on that. She knew what kinds of foods should be on a menu that would attract women. And that would mean spending time with her and…
Focus.
No sense in thinking about what might happen if he spent time with Sam. He had one job to do, and that was to keep the restaurant going.
Nick plated the steak with a mound of garlic mashed potatoes. It was cooked to perfection. That’s what happened when you focused. And that’s what he had to keep doing. Focus on the restaurant. All his thoughts and actions had to go into winning the chili contest and keeping the restaurant running. He didn’t have any time to spend thinking about Sam Dunn, no matter how enchanting she was.
8
Sam heaved the sack of onions out of the back seat of her VW Jetta. It was only eight a.m., but the heat had risen to almost eighty degrees already. She wiped her arm across her sweaty forehead as she hip-checked the car door closed, waiting to hear the snick of the automatic lock. The car was just about the only decent thing she owned. If she didn’t win the money from this contest and get her new restaurant going fast, she’d be living in it.
She was lucky she could still make the payments. She’d saved up a little from her job, but most of that had gone to buying supplies for the chili contest. There was still a little left, but that wouldn’t last long.
Which reminded her, she needed to check her bank account and make sure she’d transferred enough for the car payment from savings to checking. She had set it up to be paid automatically, but with getting fired, frantically looking for another job, losing her apartment and then the trip out here she hadn’t been paying close attention to finances. Now that no new paychecks were being deposited, it would be wise to double check that there was enough to cover the deduction. That’s what organized planners did.
Her thoughts turn to Nick, her heart softening. Given what she’d found out at the restaurant last night, he might be banking on winning the chili contest money as much as she was. She glanced into the car. A tray of cornbread cupcakes smiled up at her, but since they
’d declared their truce, she wouldn’t use them. She’d given her word and furthermore, winning by using some kind of trick wouldn’t be right.
For the first time, Sam wondered if winning at all would be right. Nick had his family restaurant on the line and what did she have? She just wanted the money to open her own place, but the ten thousand wasn’t enough to outfit a top-notch restaurant. She was still going to have to find someone else to help finance it. Or get a job in another restaurant to save up more money.
Beulah’s words from the night before came back to her. A job at The Chuckwagon could be…interesting. Maybe she could even help them straighten things out. She wondered how badly disorganized it was and how much that was affecting their bottom line. She knew making changes in the back-end of things could increase restaurant profits dramatically. A tingle of excitement ran through her. It would feel good to help put the restaurant back on track, and she supposed she could stay a few more weeks…or a month. She had no place to go back to in Boston anyway. But then she remembered, Nick had said they weren’t hiring. Apparently, he wasn’t open to the idea.
“Hey, there, let me take that for you.” Sam spun around to see Nick standing behind, her holding his hand out to take the onions. Normally, pride would dictate that she refused, but the bag was heavy, and it was hotter than hell. She handed it over, and Nick slung it across his shoulder as easy as if it was filled with feathers. Today, he wore a plain white tee-shirt and Sam couldn’t help but watch his tanned biceps flexing as he balanced the onions. He caught her looking and a lopsided grin spread across his face. Sam flushed, her cheeks heating as his gaze lingered on her.
“Well, I guess we better get cooking.” He gestured for her to go ahead and they walked toward the tents together.
As they turned down the aisle, Sam’s eyes went directly to the scoreboard.
“We’re tied!” they said at the same time, then looked at each other and laughed. Sam sensed an easy camaraderie in Nick’s demeanor. Gone were the adversarial feelings of the day before. Now it seemed as if they were becoming friends. Maybe even something more, judging by the way he was looking at her. No, probably not. There wasn’t time for that. Not if she kept to her plan of leaving after the competition.