“That’s Beulah.”
Sam spun around to face him, surprised. “Beulah? Your hostess?”
Nick laughed. “Yep, she was a rodeo rider back in the day. Excellent horsewoman.”
Sam slid her eyes over to the old woman at the podium then back to the picture. It was hard to imagine, but she did see the resemblance. “Well, no kidding.”
“I guess she came from New York City and then settled here. Been here ever since.”
A loud crash came from the bar followed by a high-pitched female voice yelling, “I’m not shdrunk!”
“Damn it!” Nick started toward the bar with Sam following.
Melina stood at the bar, a pile of glass at her feet, ice cubes scattered on the floor. The bartender raised his brows at Nick and tilted his head toward Melina. Sam caught their unspoken communication. Melina had had too much to drink, and he was refusing to serve her.
One of the men that had been at Melina’s table swaggered up to the bar and leaned over it toward the bartender. “Come on now, man, give her a drink. I’ll take care of the little lady.”
By the way his eyes raked over Melinda’s voluptuous figure, Sam had an uneasy feeling about what he meant by ‘take care of’ her.
Nick stepped over to the guy. He was big, maybe a little taller than Nick and just as broad. Nick stood just close enough to make the man uncomfortable. “I think you can leave the lady alone now. We’ll take it from here.”
The man frowned at him. “Who are you? Her father?”
“Just a friend. We don’t want any trouble here, but if you insist…” Nick stepped closer and worry flashed across the man’s face. He glanced back at his friend still at the table.
The friend stood and threw a wad of bills on the table. “Come on, Trev, looks like more trouble than she’d be worth.” He gave Nick a hard look then strode slowly toward the door. Trev followed, kicking an ice cube and watching it slide across the floor on his way out as if to get the last word in.
When they were gone, Nick turned to Melina. “What is going on here? Who are those guys?”
Melina was belligerent. “What’s it to you? They’re my friends.”
Nick put a hand gently on her arm. “Look, Melina, you’ve had too much to drink. I’m going to call you a cab. You need to go home and sleep it off.”
“Home? To my empty ranch? Shure, s’easy for you to say. You have all thish.” She gestured around the bar, the exaggerated movement knocking her off balance.
Rena appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on here?” Her concerned baby-blue eyes flicked from Melina to the mess on the floor.
Melina followed her gaze, her face falling and all the belligerence deflating like a punctured balloon. “Oh, Rena. I’m sorry. I don’t know what comes over me.”
Rena rushed over, putting an arm around the other woman’s shoulders and comforting her. “It’s okay, Mel. I know you didn’t mean it.” She shot a look at the bartender over Melina’s shoulder. “We’ll call you a cab.”
The bartender, a broom in one hand and dustbin in the other, jerked his head toward the door where a cab was pulling up outside. “Already done.”
Nick came to stand behind Sam, his palm on the back of her neck as they watched Rena put Melina into the cab. When Rena came back inside, Nick said, “She’s getting worse. I’m not sure what we should do.”
Rena crossed her arms over her chest, her face full of compassion. ”She’s hurting, Nick. She doesn’t have any family here anymore. At least we have each other. Harley is over in Afghanistan, and she doesn’t know when—or if— he’s going to come back. It’s a rough time for her, and we have to just keep helping her until she gets through it.”
Rena turned to Sam, noticing the confused look on her face. “Melina and her brother Harley were orphaned when they were toddlers. They were raised by their grandparents, but Ida and Morrie passed away about three years ago. Harley is a Navy SEAL over in Afghanistan. He’s been there about four years now. Melina is all alone on the big family ranch, and she gets depressed sometimes.”
“Sometimes it seems like she’s a lot of trouble, but we’ve all been friends since we were kids,” Nick cut in. “We look out for each other. In Sweetrock, we take care of our own. I just hope our help is enough. She might need more. A professional.”
The thought of friends taking care of each other warmed Sam. She’d moved around so much that she’d never been able to have friends that had known each other since childhood. She wondered what it would be like to know someone since you were a little kid through your teenage years and then into adulthood. The bond it would form. A pang of envy at the closeness of Nick and his friend speared her heart. If she settled down somewhere long enough, would she have that same closeness someday?
“I have things all set for you in the office, Sam, if you’re ready,” Rena said.
Sam looked up at Nick uncertainly. “Okay, I think were done with the tour.”
“Yep. Do you like steak?”
“Love it.”
“Then I’ll have dinner ready when you guys are finished.”
Sam followed Rena to the office where she had journals laid out and a laptop flipped open on a big oak desk.
“My parents were old fashioned, and most of the accounting is on paper. I’m trying to transfer things to the computer, but the entries for this past year are a disorganized mess.” Rena’s sigh pushed her blonde curls away from her forehead. “The truth is I don’t know very much about the workings of the restaurant. I just finally talked Nick into letting me take some responsibility a few weeks ago.” She leaned in and whispered. “Though Beulah’s been showing me some things behind his back.”
“So Nick’s been running the place the whole time?” Sam asked. “I mean since your parents…”
Her face pinched. “Yeah. He always worked here and on our family ranch. Of course, that’s gone now, but Nick always loved cooking. Me—well, maybe I didn’t make the smartest choices…hooking up with Cyrus—that’s Amy’s father—well, let’s just say he wasn’t a nice guy. Nick tried to warn me. To protect me.” She shrugged. “But I’m older and wiser now. I learned my lesson and don’t need to be sheltered, anymore. I know Nick still tries to protect me, but I’m a big girl, and I need to take some responsibility for this restaurant. I don’t have any other work. Besides, I gotta look out for Amy. We really need your help.”
Sam’s heart pinched. She’d never really been needed like that before. It felt good but heavy with responsibility. She pulled one of the ledgers toward her. “Okay, show me everything. I’ll do what I can to help.”
14
Rena took Sam through the accounting books. How much they spent on food and supplies for the restaurant. How much the linen service cost. What they paid for advertising. Then she showed Sam their processes. When and what they ordered. How they managed the extra food and leftovers. When they called in extra staff or had people leave early.
Sam could see that they were over-ordering with food going to waste. Beulah had been right. The whole process needed to be revamped and organized.
“It’s hard to juggle the staffing. Sometimes we end up with no customers in the restaurant but a full staff.” Rena shrugged. “I just don’t know how many people or who to schedule. And most of our staff have been working for our family for years. I couldn’t possibly let any of them go. They depend on the meager paycheck, even if they aren’t getting much for tips.”
Sam sympathized with Rena’s compassion for her staff, but business was business. She could already see that they were spending way too much money on paying people that were standing around doing nothing. There had to be some way to keep the people on, but not waste the money. She’d identified a few tweaks to their ordering process that might help with food waste, but they needed more, especially if they wanted to keep the staff on.
They needed a way to get more people to come to the restaurant. Their advertising budget indicated that they weren’t spending nearly eno
ugh. But that wasn’t the big problem. The big problem was they didn’t have a menu that appealed to a wide enough range of people. No amount of advertising would help that. They needed to make a change.
They could work on their profit margin, too. The food was inexpensive compared to other restaurants. Just raising the price of each meal even a half a buck would make a big difference if they got enough customers in.
After over an hour of studying and scrutinizing, Sam leaned back in the chair. “I have a few suggestions, but are you and Nick ready to make the necessary changes?”
“What changes?” Nick stood in the doorway.
Sam tapped the ledgers. “I have a few ideas on how you can cut costs and get more customers. But it’s going to mean doing things a little differently.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Like…”
“Menu changes, process changes, moving stuff around in the kitchen.”
Nick considered it, his eyes drifting from Rena’s to Sam’s. He could see how hopeful his sister was and how sincere Sam was. “Okay, you can tell me over dinner. I trust your judgment, Sam, and I’m willing to do anything to get the restaurant back on track.”
Nick had set up a booth, one of the tables that were in one of the old stalls. It was decorated with a white linen tablecloth, matching napkins, silver rimmed plates and hand hammered flatware with tiny turquoise cabochons on the handles. A candle flickered in the center of the table, casting romantic shadows over their dinner. The round table had a U-shaped banquette around it, and they slid into the back, sitting next to each other. It was cozy and private, especially since there were only three other tables occupied in the entire restaurant.
He’d cooked the meal himself—beef tenderloin, wild mushroom risotto, and asparagus. He held her hand most of the time, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand, her wrist. Sam had a hard time keeping her mind on the delicious food. But now having tasted it, she could see why people came. It was top-notch. The restaurant had real potential, and her heart surged for Nick and Rena, hoping that they would implement the changes and bring the customers back in.
They talked about everything and nothing, laughing and gazing into each other’s eyes. Sam forgot all about her troubles, the chili contest, her car being impounded, and the fact that she hadn’t yet told her parents the truth. It was like a dream from which she didn’t want to wake.
Beulah stopped by just as they were finishing up.
“I’d offer you dessert, but we don’t have that here.” She shot Nick a pointed look.
Sam laughed. “That’s another thing. I was thinking if you did expand your menu and add desserts, you would draw in more people. I’m sure there are lots of ladies talking their husband out of eating here because they want lighter fare and a little bit of something sweet to top it off.”
The fringe on Beulah’s vest swayed as she enthusiastically nodded her agreement.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Nick looked at Sam. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“I guess I could come up with something. I don’t think people out here would want the same types of things I’d serve in Boston, but I can figure it out and give you a list of what I think might work.”
“Great,” Nick said.
“Yeah, great.” Beulah echoed Nick. “But that’s not gonna help us tomorrow.”
Nick’s brows tugged together. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
Beulah smiled and whipped a piece of paper out of her front pocket. She grabbed the rhinestone half-moon glasses that hung from a chain on her neck and perched them on her nose, then squinted down at the paper, moving it closer to her face until it was only about an inch away. ”Food critic from the Daily is coming in to check the restaurant out tomorrow night. Name’s Nathan Hargrove. You know him?”
“Hargrove? He’s pretty influential.” Nick’s voice carried a timbre of worry that clutched at Sam’s heart.
Beulah put the paper down and slipped the glasses off her nose, letting them dangle on the chain at her chest. She fixed Nick with a serious look. “Then we’re gonna need to feed him proper. A full course. Soup. Salad. And dessert.”
“We can handle the soup and salad fine,” Nick said. “We make a lot of soups and salads are pretty easy.”
“Sure. But what about dessert?”
Nick’s eyes skipped from Beulah to Sam. “Do we need that?”
Beulah shook her head. “Of course, we do. But I got something for ya’. My grandma made the best pecan pie back in New York City when I was a little girl. I can make that for you.”
“Pecan pie! That’s my specialty,” Sam blurted out, suddenly excited at the prospect of cooking dessert for a food critic.
Beulah’s eyes narrowed. “Mine, too. I bet mine is better.”
Was that a challenge? “I don’t know about that. Besides, aren’t you too busy with hostessing here and the chili contest to make one for tomorrow?”
“Not any busier than you with the chili contest and your…” Beulah flicked her eyes from Sam to Nick and back again, “extracurricular activities.”
Sam’s cheeks heated. “I think I can handle it.”
“Well, then, it sounds like we’ve got a challenge going.” Beulah rubbed her hands together. “Competing pecan pies. We’ll use it as a draw to get more customers in tomorrow night. Better make a dozen or so, so everyone can have a taste.”
The gleam in Beulah’s eyes and the satisfied smirk on her face as she walked away had Sam wondering if she’d planned this all along. “I think I’ve just been conned. I wouldn’t be surprised if Beulah already had an ad out about this.”
Nick chuckled. “She sure is something. But it’s all for a good cause. She cares about this restaurant. Like I said, we take care of our own here.”
Sam’s heart warmed. No wonder Tessa loved it here so much. “I better get going. Tessa is probably expecting me.”
Nick took her hand. “Tessa knows you’re with me. I don’t think she’s going to wait up.”
Same scooted closer in the booth, snuggling right up against him, drawing her fingertip down the center of his chest, to his stomach, feeling the rippling muscles underneath. “Oh, really? Well, then, what did you have in mind?”
Nick lived in a small cabin that he rented. He made apologies for it the entire time they drove there, telling Sam not to expect too much. It was just a small temporary place for a bachelor. Sam didn't really care what it looked like. Nick didn't need to impress her any more than he already had.
By the time they crashed through the front door in each other's arms, their lips locked together, Sam was beyond noticing her surroundings. She had images of wide pine boards, a quilt, a big bed with a thick log frame, and the mattress so soft and comfortable it felt like lying on a cloud. When Nick threw her on it, laughing and giggling, she didn't have time to look at anything but him. Especially when he stripped off his shirt and then reached for hers. Their mood turned serious as they fumbled with each other's clothes, desperate to have that skin on skin contact.
They took it slower this time, exploring each other, finding each other's buttons and then pushing them to glorious, mind-blowing limits.
In between, they talked about cooking, their childhoods, their hopes and dreams. Sam discovered that Nick had had a passion for cooking since he was a little boy. Cooking and horses. The sadness in his eyes when he talked about having to give Nacho up because he was forced to sell his family ranch nearly broke her heart.
She told him about moving around, never being in one place for long. How she ached to put down roots. Out of all the places she'd lived in her entire life, Boston was the one she'd lived in the longest. Nick wondered if that was why she wanted to go back—because she'd been there the longest, not because she really loved it there. She talked about how she didn't fall in love with cooking until college. And how her true passion was baking.
Nick raised up on one elbow and looked down at her. The moonlight spilled in the window beside the bed, lighting i
t just enough so he could see her expression. "Why didn't you go into baking, then? Why are you opening a restaurant as a head chef? Why not just work in one of the big restaurants as a pastry chef or open your own upscale bakery?"
Sam sighed. "My parents didn't think being a pastry chef was a big enough career. To them, a bakery is small potatoes, but an expensive restaurant is more prestigious."
Nick could see the struggle between pleasing her parents and following her passion etched on her face. To open her own restaurant in Boston was a big undertaking. He knew she was competent enough. She'd certainly proven that with the suggestions she'd made for The Chuckwagon. Nick didn't doubt that she'd be a huge success. But, wouldn't opening a restaurant in Boston take a lot of money? And it didn't appear to him that Sam had a lot of money.
But Nick had a restaurant right here already. Okay, so he had to make good on the payments or he wouldn't have it much longer, but with Sam's suggestions, a favorable write up from Hargrove, and the chili contest money he'd be back in the black in no time.
Of course, Sam needed the chili contest money, too, for her own dream.
But opening a restaurant wasn't really her dream. Being a pastry chef was. Nick had a restaurant that needed a pastry chef. As he watched Sam drift off to sleep, the seed of hope that had sprouted in his chest grew even more.
15
Sam slowly came awake. She stretched against the warm, comfortable body beside her. Nick. That's right. She was in Nick's cabin. In Nick's bed. Warmth spread in her chest and she snuggled tighter against him. It felt glorious.
But why was she thinking about pecans? Memories of the previous night came back, and she sat up in the bed. She had to make pecan pies! Her mind buzzed with thoughts of what she needed. She'd have to get ingredients. And a pie plates. Where was she going to cook the pies? It was still dark outside, and she could barely make out the interior of Nick's cabin. Had she seen a kitchenette with a stove in here somewhere?
Some Like It Hot (Sweetrock Cowboy Romance Book 1) Page 10