by Jill Shalvis
“I’m sorry,” she called, but he just lifted a hand and kept going.
He stiffed her, too.
Let’s see…she’d probably just cost the café an entire day’s wages, all in an hour. Had to be a personal record for failure, and exhausted at just the thought, she sank into the nearest chair.
And sat on Harry.
RILEY WOKE UP a hungry man. Really hungry.
He hadn’t gotten lucky last night. Holly had closed Café Nirvana—his usual dinner haunt—early. He could have whipped up something in his own kitchen, except for the fact that he really hated to cook. He could run an entire ranch practically by himself. He could patrol a county that had more square miles than he could count. He could bring peace to a room faster than he could blink, with just a smile and some sweet words, and enjoy all of it.
But ask him to so much as boil water for tea and he would find something, anything, else to do. Even go hungry.
Apparently Holly felt the same way, which gave them something in common, an uncomfortable feeling for him. He felt much easier when he didn’t like her. She was just playing here, just passing through.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
Hopefully she’d run for the hills—or the nearest city—by now. Yeah. Given her success rate of exactly zero yesterday, she’d probably done just that. The entire town would be grateful.
So would he.
He came into his house after doing some chores and stopped short in the doorway of his kitchen. Standing by the work island was Maria, his housekeeper. In front of her was a breakfast fit for a king, and also a bagged…lunch? His mouth watered at the thought, even as he knew it couldn’t be true. Maria didn’t like him enough to cook for him, twice.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, knowing she came only twice a week, if she was in the mood, to clean up after him. He wasn’t particularly proud of the fact that she was necessary.
But she’d been there just the day before. He knew because he’d had clean sheets, fresh towels and the dishes he’d stacked for the past few days—he kept meaning to get to them but somehow never managed it—had been washed and put back in the cupboard where they belonged.
Maria ignored his question and shoved him into a chair, a considerable feat considering she was barely four feet tall to his six plus. Her wide girth apparently gave her the strength of four men.
Without a word of greeting, or even a smile, she set the plate of delicious-smelling food in front of him. “Eat,” she commanded in heavily accented English. “I do not have all day to clean your dishes.”
No one had to tell him twice. Riley started shoving the most amazing food in his mouth. Omelette smothered in cheese, a mountain of bacon on the side, crispy just the way he liked it, and another mountain of sourdough toast, slathered in butter.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said, then moaned around another mouthful. “This is the best food I’ve ever tasted.”
“You’re half-starving, what does a half-starving man know?”
“I know good food,” he promised her. “And this is it.”
“A man who works as hard as you cannot go without eating. That Holly What’s-Her-Name is going to be the death of you.”
No doubt. “You’ve never worried about me before.”
“You had the café before,” Maria pointed out. She slammed a pan into the sink and turned on the water. “What were the Mendozas thinking, letting someone like that take over?” She switched to Spanish then, letting off a rapid-fire monologue Riley couldn’t begin to follow.
“Why are you here?” he asked when she’d run out of steam. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added quickly when she glared at him. “I’m grateful for the food, more than you know, but—”
“I heard about the Nirvana shutting down.”
“It’s not shutting down, it’s just—”
“Not serving food a dog could eat.”
“Well, I think there’s a mix-up. I’m sure it’ll get resolved.”
“She doesn’t know how to cook.”
“Cooking isn’t everyone’s strong suit.” He flashed her a grin. “Not like you.”
She sniffed, as if not being able to make a meal was the greatest sin a woman could commit. “I know how much you count on that café, and I could not let you go hungry.” This last was spoken gruffly as she removed her apron. “Everyone in town is talking about her. There is a bunch of unhappy, hungry people around.”
“Yeah.”
“She is big city. She does not belong here.”
Riley didn’t need the reminder that Holly came from a world entirely different from his, that she was restless, and probably looking for something in Little Paradise that didn’t exist outside her imagination.
“She is too beautiful.”
That wasn’t a problem for Riley. He loved beautiful women; he loved all women. But he didn’t need an attitude-ridden, trouble-causing princess, that was certain.
“Soak your dish, Sheriff, do not leave it all week for me. Enjoy your lunch.”
And with that, she was gone.
Interesting. Maria liked him, she really liked him. But after he indeed soaked his dish, he saw the note she’d left him by his front door. “Wipe your feet. The sheriff of Little Paradise should not live like a pig.”
Okay, maybe like was too strong a word.
BY THE TIME Riley pulled up to his office, he was running late. But at least his belly was full. He could last all day on the feast he’d had. Bring on the lost cows, the occasional town drunk, a speeding tourist…he was ready.
Holly’s Jeep was still parked out front of the café, assuring him she hadn’t run for the hills.
Or the nearest big city.
He’d give her until the end of the week. Hell, he’d give her until the end of today.
He walked into his building and surprisingly enough, there she stood by the front desk, with containers of food.
She let out a tight smile at the sight of him. “Hungry, Sheriff?”
He could see that she expected him to be. He could see also that she hadn’t lost her inherent…cityness. She wore a two-piece number today, with a snug top and a short, wide skirt that screamed fashion. He had no idea who the maker was, or even the material, but he had no doubt it was the latest fashion, made by someone expensive.
“I brought breakfast,” she said.
Tearing his attention away from the way the ice-blue color of her outfit emphasized her eyes, he looked at the food she’d put out. Steaming eggs, sausages, cinnamon buns…the works. “Wow.” He didn’t know which stunned him more—her little smile, which made her seem young and vulnerable in a way he’d never imagined, or the fact she’d actually brought him food. “You cooked?”
“Don’t look so surprised.” She lifted a blond eyebrow. “Food is the way to a person’s stomach.”
“I thought food was the way to a man’s heart.”
“I don’t care about your heart. All I care about is you liking the food.”
“Why?”
“So you can influence the people in town, of course.”
Thinking she was kidding, he laughed. Leaning against the desk, he crossed his arms and studied her.
She looked the same as ever; cool, calm and collected. And very sure of herself. But he was beginning to think maybe that was all an act. If she was so sure of herself, she wouldn’t be here. “Excuse me for being cynical,” he said. “But yesterday I got the distinct impression you didn’t like me much. Why do you really care what I think of your food?”
“Actually, I don’t care what you think. But like I said, the people of this town do, and since I didn’t exactly bowl them over yesterday—”
“You yelled at them, you spilled on them, you treated them like they were dirt beneath your heels,” he pointed out.
“Yes, well, maybe I could use a little honing up on my people skills. So are you going to eat this damn food and tell everyone you know it’s good, or wha
t?”
He shook his head at her audacity, but she didn’t back down in her quest. She actually expected him to help her.
Jud walked in the front door, saw the two of them and stopped short. Pulling up his slipping pants, he lifted his nose and sniffed. “What’s going on here?”
Holly looked at Riley, expectation and hope in her gaze. It was so far and away from the mistrust and sarcasm she’d been showing him since yesterday, he could only stare at her.
“Well?” Jud asked again.
Holly’s gaze pleaded with him.
If he didn’t help her, she’d be gone before sundown. A really tempting thought.
If he did help her, she might keep looking at him with those eyes that made him want to drown in them.
Idiot, he told himself, even as he held out an empty plate to Jud. “Help yourself. It’s breakfast.”
Holly smiled.
“From Café Nirvana,” Riley added. “It’s a special treat.”
Jud looked at Holly with a good amount of suspicion, but with Riley holding out an empty plate, and all the steam and good scents rising from the food, he didn’t have a prayer in resisting. When the plate was heaped high, Jud dug in with his fork and…choked.
“Yuck!”
“Yuck?” Riley looked at Holly. “I thought you said it was good.”
“It is good!” she claimed, but she bit her lower lip uncertainly.
Riley whipped around to Jud, who was dumping the food in the trash.
“Those eggs are fake!” he yelled.
“They’re low cholesterol,” Holly whispered.
“And that sausage!” Jud spit into the trash can. “It wasn’t sausage at all!”
“It’s turkey meat.” Holly winced at the loud, heavy thud they made as they hit the bottom of the can. “It’s much healthier.”
“It’s disgusting,” Jud said. “Don’t tell me all your meals are going to be this bad.”
“I’m thinking of trying other lean dishes, yes. Like meat loaf from low-fat ground turkey.”
Riley groaned.
“What’s that mean?” she demanded, whirling to him.
“Sounds…lean.”
“Exactly!”
“Oh, man.” Riley shook his head, grateful he’d already eaten. “You’re going to go give us all that newfangled California junk, aren’t you?”
“Your cholesterol will thank you. I’ve got some salads planned—”
“Gee,” Riley muttered. “Sounds appetizing.”
“I think so.”
Jud pulled at his sagging pants. “I want the fat, woman!” He glared at Riley as if this were all his fault, then walked out.
The silence was deafening.
Holly straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin.
Riley sighed, rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at her. “Well, that went well. You were exceptionally charming and sweet.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m easier to get along with when people agree with me.” But she looked out the window at the empty parking lot in front of Café Nirvana and chewed on her very red, very shiny and perfectly made-up bottom lip.
A lip he suddenly, irrationally, had the most shocking urge to suck into his mouth.
Where was a cow emergency when he needed one?
4
SLEEP ELUDED Holly that night. No surprise really. She’d set a new record, even for herself. Alienating an entire town in less than forty-eight hours.
She lay wide-awake in the small bedroom of her tiny apartment above the café. The Mendozas had cleared out quickly for their move to Montana, and yes, the thought came with a tad of bitterness.
Okay, more than a tad.
At least they’d left the furniture. The floors were hardwood and bare except for a few southwestern throw rugs. The walls were bare, too, but for such a small place there were a lot of windows.
The better to let the heat in.
Actually, it wasn’t that bad, if you didn’t count the extremely fat, rude Harry, who’d insisted on coming up with her.
He lay snoring in the kitchen sink.
But other than him, the place was clean and all hers, which made it…almost cozy. Her place in Los Angeles had been rented from a business acquaintance, and so had her place before that. She’d never really had a place of her own, but looking around the very small but oddly homey apartment now, she thought maybe if she could pick her own, it wouldn’t be so different than this.
Except for the cat.
It would be nice to be able to call a place her own, but she couldn’t do that until she figured out where she wanted to be for the rest of her life.
And where she wanted to be was back in a big city, any big city, where she could lose herself in her work, normal work. Where she could be around people like her.
Only the truth was, she’d never been around people like her.
She could tell herself it was the pace of the big city she missed. The movie theaters, the shops…Thai food.
But that was a lie, too.
She didn’t miss those things; she didn’t miss any of it. She just wanted to belong somewhere. Anywhere.
Damn, now she was right back to where she started, wallowing in self-pity.
She couldn’t help it. Everything was wrong. She’d been assured by her parents this would be a short interlude, that the restaurant would sell quickly. That she would be fully staffed. That her duties would be purely managerial.
None of that had happened, which should have made it easy for her to back out. After all, her parents hadn’t kept their part of the bargain, why should she?
But the new and improved Holly wanted to keep her bargains. She wanted to come through.
She wanted her accomplishments acknowledged.
And to do that, she had to succeed.
At any cost. Which meant if she had to continue to cook and clean and serve until she got it right, if she had to force people back into that café and eat her food so that a prospective buyer would be impressed, that’s what she would do. And tough beans to the local population who didn’t want to cooperate.
Finally, this decided, sleep claimed her.
She dreamed about cooking, and how she’d almost, almost, enjoyed herself today while teaching herself to make breakfast from a cookbook. She dreamed about Jud admitting he’d been wrong about her food being inedible. She dreamed about an obnoxious cat.
And she dreamed about one grinning, sexy sheriff.
BY THE NEXT MORNING, Holly was ready to dole out lots of tushie kissing and smiles that she didn’t especially feel.
The biggest problem, of course, was what to serve for breakfast? The café was low on supplies and she hadn’t yet had a chance to get any paperwork going, so she hadn’t ordered anything.
She’d have to go get what she needed herself. Determined, she got in her Jeep, unable to help noticing Riley’s truck was already in front of the sheriff’s station.
So he worked hard, so what? It was no reason to feel a little…melty on the inside. She worked hard, too, dammit, and pushing him from her mind, she drove to the one and only grocery store in town.
She loaded five big containers of instant oatmeal—not low fat—into her cart, and at the last minute added several baskets of blueberries for color. See? She was thinking like a restaurateur already.
At the checkout, she was thoroughly inspected by a midtwenties buxom redhead with the biggest hair Holly had ever seen. Though it was barely seven in the morning, the woman was cracking a big wad of green bubble gum. Checking out Holly’s cream-colored skirt and matching box jacket, she sniffed. “Going to be a scorcher today, you know. You’ll be sweatin’ in those fancy clothes.”
Those “fancy” clothes were light and cool, and very chic. Holly knew she looked good; looking good was important to her. It gave her a semblance of being in control. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“This it?” Her tone was a one on a friendly scale to ten. “This is what you’re go
ing to offer at the café for breakfast?”
“Look—” Holly peered at the woman’s name tag “Isadora—”
“Dora.”
“Dora, then. Could you just check me out here? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Why?” She bagged the oatmeal, sniffing disdainfully at the blueberries, as if even she knew that nothing, nothing at all, could decorate instant oatmeal. “You don’t have any customers waiting.”
“How do you know?”
“My momma’s sister’s boyfriend’s third cousin is the sheriff’s receptionist. She can see you through the windows, all by yourself inside the café. Your arrival, and the clearing out of the café, has been the biggest gossip to hit town since Jimmy Dalton got caught in the bowling alley trying to cheat Lester Arnold.”
“Terrific,” Holly muttered.
“And then you went and caught the eye of the sheriff, which really grinds my butt.” Dora’s long, metallic-blue fingernails clicked loudly on the keys as she punched in the prices. “I’ve been trying to catch his eye since he came back from college. He’s the hottest, sexiest, most amazing man I’ve ever seen, and he’s looking at you.” She rolled her eyes and blew a huge bubble, popping it noisily. “Go figure, especially since all you’ve done is give him sass.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Holly took cash out of her purse and slapped it down.
“You’re telling me you don’t think he’s hot?”
“Hot? No.” Only a little lie, one of the many she’d told, so she couldn’t imagine she was going to hell for this one. “Pesky, yes. Mr. Know-It-All, yes. Insensitive? Oh, definitely. But hot?” Holly laughed. “You can’t mean it.”
“You’re blind, girlfriend.” Dora looked disgusted. “Completely blind. That man is a walking, talking fantasy.”
Holly thought that just maybe Dora was right, but she’d roll over and die before admitting Riley made her yearn and burn. It’d simply been a while since she’d indulged in any fantasies, much less the real thing, so it was no wonder he set her hormones off. She could handle hormones, and she could handle one Riley McMann. Piece of cake.