by Erika Kelly
“Because I need a job. I won’t be able to think about anything else until that happens.” But, even as she said the words, she thought of going downstairs and seeing her family. Of interacting with them tomorrow and the next day. She wasn’t going to sulk, but what was she supposed to do? Act happy? Pretend they hadn’t just shut her out of the only dream she’d ever had?
No, she couldn’t be around them right now.
“You’re standing in the childhood bedroom of the home you grew up in after losing a job in the family business,” Callie said. “You need to get out of the city and gain some fresh perspective. And it won’t cost a thing because you can stay in the main house for free.” She held up a hand. “And before you tell me you’d be imposing, think about growing up here. How many times have you offered this house to someone you’ve met on your travels? Did your family ever care?”
“Not at all.” They had six empty bedrooms, and they loved a full house.
“There you go. Same thing. Besides, there’re only three people living in that huge house this summer. The oldest brother, Will, his little sister, and Marcella, the house manager.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ll be there. I’ll just be this stranger eating their food and sleeping in their bed.”
“Okay, you know what? Cook for them. I know Marcella could use the break.”
“I could do that. Anything else? I want to pay for my keep.”
“Wait,” Marco said. “You’re seriously considering this?”
Callie turned thoughtful. “Actually, they’ve just gotten walloped with news of their own. They’ve got a sister they didn’t know about. She’s two, and they don’t have a nanny yet. So, throw in some babysitting, and they’ll be thanking you for staying with them.”
Between her six older siblings, she had about a thousand nieces and nephews. Babysitting and cooking she could do. Besides, she had nothing to lose. Literally. “I’m in.”
“Babe, stop.” Marco turned her to him. “You’re not going to Wyoming.”
White air billowed out of huge, fleshy nostrils, and Delilah jerked to a stop on the driveway. She’d seen a lot of things in her life, but this massive beast with a ginormous rack, beady, hostile eyes, and demon hooves was a first.
Growing up in the city, she came across sketchy types all the time. Basically, she maintained an easy confidence—as if she wasn’t the least bit intimidated—and went on her way.
But this guy…come on. He was next-level huge. If she took another step, would he charge her? She didn’t want to make a ruckus at midnight and wake the whole family, but should she scare him away or at least get the…ranch hands? Is that who lives on this sprawling piece of land? She imagined a group of hot cowboys outside their bunkhouse, roasting…wienies? Over a big campfire.
And why the hell was it so cold here? It’s June, for crying out loud. She wished she hadn’t stuffed her sweater into her suitcase. She was freezing.
Well, she had about ten more yards to reach the front door, and she wasn’t about to let a moose stop her.
“Hey, handsome. If I weren’t so pissed off at my family, about to pass out from exhaustion, and ready to plunge my feet into an ice bath, I’d actually take a moment to admire your majestic badassery. Unfortunately, I am all of those things, so how ‘bout you do you, and I’ll do me?”
She did not want to meet the business end of that rack, but she really did need to get inside, so she’d just treat him like any growly dog she passed in her neighborhood. Like they were besties. “You look like a Carlos. Can I call you Lo? Hey, Lo. How’s it hanging?” He did have a massive set of balls between his legs. Looked as uncomfortable as that weighty chandelier on his head.
Move along.
The wheels of her suitcase clacked on the asphalt driveway. She’d asked the driver to let her out at the gate, assuming the house would be right around the bend. Wrong.
But…what a house. The moon shone like a spotlight, casting massive shadows and reflecting off copper flashing and pipes. In spite of its size, the wide expanses of windows and the stone and wood construction made the house look almost part of the landscape. The air, scented with sage, smelled clean and fresh.
Side-eyeing Carlos on the lawn, she hauled her luggage up the porch steps and dropped her tote outside the door. As she slid the key into the lock, she hoped Callie had remembered to alert the household about her arrival. She didn’t want alarms going off.
The moment she let herself in, she dragged her luggage into the foyer. Kicking off her wedges, she shut and locked the door, then turned to take in the wide-open space of the first floor.
Unlike her very lived-in family home, this place was spacious and uncluttered, with a lot of leather and wrought iron. Supremely masculine, but with an elegant and thoughtful design.
Knowing she’d get in late, she’d stuffed her sleep clothes and some toiletries into her tote, so she wouldn’t have to lug her suitcase up the stairs and wake everyone up. Now all she had to do was find Callie and Fin’s bedroom. Up the stairs, down the long hallway, last door on the left—
“Hi.”
Nearly jumping out of her skin, Delilah whipped around to find the source of that sweet, little voice. Huge shadows loomed across the high-ceilinged room. She scanned the sleek couches, the coffee and side tables, but didn’t see anyone.
“Hi.”
She sounded so precious. “Hi, sweetheart. Where are you?”
“I here.” The kid made it sound like Delilah was the dumbest person she’d ever met.
Heading to the nearest lamp, she fumbled until she found the switch under the shade. The tiny pool of yellow light didn’t offer much, but it did allow her to notice a gate at the top of the stairs and tiny little fingers clinging to the top. Little eyes peered at her.
“Well, hey, there. You must be Will’s sister.”
“I Wooby.”
Delilah climbed the stairs to find a cute little girl holding a stuffed animal under one arm. A bounty of dark waves cascaded over her shoulders, and her rosebud mouth matched her name.
“Hi, there, Ruby. I’m Delilah.” She reached for the latch, then remembered the little girl didn’t know her at all. “May I open the gate?”
Big, wary eyes gazed up at her. “Wheel seeping.”
“Right. Well, we don’t want to wake him up. Which room is yours?”
The little girl glanced down a long hallway, lit only by a single nightlight. Man, that looked scary. Framed photographs hung on the walls, and most of the doors were closed.
Looking incredibly lost, Ruby rested her chin on the stuffed animal’s head.
Her heart squeezed for this little girl who’d lost so much so young. Maybe she should wake someone up? Ruby might be more comfortable with someone she knows. “I’ll get Marcella.” She was the house manager, after all.
“Cella seeping.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, do you want to show me your room? I’ll bet you’ve got lots of fun toys and awesome books to read. I could read you one.” When she babysat her nieces and nephews, sometimes they didn’t even get through one whole book before they conked out.
“No, fanks.” She stood there in her polka dot pajama short set and watched Delilah with anticipation, like she was waiting for her to break into a song and dance routine.
What’re you looking for, sweet girl? “Okay. Let’s just sit here and hang out.” Maybe she’d tell Ruby a story instead. After she fell asleep, Delilah would carry her to bed. She didn’t look like she weighed more than a cannoli.
Unlatching the gate, she stepped inside and sat down on the floor. She patted her lap, but the girl didn’t budge. That’s okay. She’d just sit here until Ruby got comfortable with her. “This morning, before I left for the airport, my brother made our dad’s famous Hawaiian French toast.” Because he felt bad for taking away my restaurant. As he should. Not this girl’s problem. “He makes it with Portuguese sweet bread and uses a ton of butter so it’s super crunchy on the out
side and then warm and sweet and gooey on the inside. Do you like French toast? I could make you some in the morning.”
Gaze fixed on her, Ruby didn’t say anything.
“I like cooking. Like, a lot. Maybe we could cook together. My nephew, Ben, is my favorite sous chef. I even got him a hat and an apron. He’s just six, but he’s adorable, and he’s really into cooking.”
There was something in the way Ruby looked at her, anxiety brimming in those beautiful blue eyes. Delilah couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking.
The toddler stood close enough that Delilah could smell baby shampoo and feel the heat coming off her little body. She parted her rosebud lips and said, “Where momma?”
The simple question was as jarring as a sudden blast of heavy metal music, and it rendered Delilah speechless.
Clutching what appeared to be a chicken, its big, yellow, floppy legs sticking out under her arms, the little girl looked fragile…forlorn, and Delilah needed to find some words right the hell now.
“I—” The weight of sorrow cut off her ability to think, breathe, react.
How did a two-year-old process the fact that her mom wasn’t coming back? Delilah had been eighteen when her mom died, and she still reached for the phone every time she had something important to share. It was a fresh hit of grief when she remembered there was no one to call.
Maybe they hadn’t told her? Callie had said the mom died a few weeks ago—
Oh, my God. Ruby’s been waiting all this time for her mom to come and get her. She wanted to haul that little girl into her arms and hug her until she felt safe again.
But Ruby wouldn’t want that from a stranger. She wanted her mom.
“I don’t know where your momma is, Ruby.” It wasn’t her place to answer that question. “But you know what I do know?”
Ruby twisted first one way and then the other, using her whole body to say no.
Delilah didn’t know if she should engage in such an important conversation, but she certainly couldn’t ignore the question. Totally out of her element, she plowed forward with the only thing she would want to hear. “Your momma loves you with all her heart.”
What she would give to hear that voice in her ear just one more time, feel her mom’s arms around her, and know that everything would be all right just because she’s there.
The little girl’s shoulders relaxed, and she lifted the chicken to cover half her face. Those soulful eyes watched her over the white fur.
“You’re her sweet little angel girl.” Delilah scraped the hair off the toddler’s forehead, tucking it behind her ear. “Your momma loves you so much, Ruby.”
Those sad eyes glistened. “See momma?”
Okay, now she needed rain boots to slosh around in the overflow of her weepy heart, but she had to stay strong. The goal was getting Ruby to settle down, so she could fall asleep. “If your momma were here right now, I bet she’d hug you. Can I hug you?” Please?
Please let me comfort you.
But Ruby shook her head.
“I bet she’d carry you to your bedroom and get in bed with you with a big pile of books. Can we do that? Read some books together?”
“Want momma.”
Yeah, me, too. Well, she couldn’t just dump the little girl back in her bed, all alone in a strange room. She had to do something. She’s wide awake.
As a little girl, Delilah had had a hard time sleeping. Mostly, she’d hated missing out. Her siblings always had friends over, so her home had been alive with music, conversation, and bursts of laughter. It always smelled like popcorn or a mix of cologne and perfume. To get her to sleep, her mom would carry her into the kitchen and bake with her. There was just something soothing about the smell of vanilla and butter, the whir of beaters, the hum of the refrigerator, the heat from the oven, and her mom’s quiet conversation.
“I’ve been traveling all day, and I don’t eat airport food, so I’m starving. You want to bake some muffins with me?”
She nodded vigorously. “Wooby hongry.”
“Awesome.” She lifted her into her arms and headed down the stairs. “Do you like muffins?”
“Shock-let muffins.”
Delilah smiled. “Well, I make a mean dark chocolate banana—” Ah—weren’t the Bowies extreme athletes? They wouldn’t appreciate dessert for breakfast. Then again, this wasn’t about power foods. It was about calming a scared and lonely little girl. “You know what? We’ll go check out your pantry and see what we can come up with.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Delilah made her way across the living room to a gaping, arched doorway that led to the kitchen. “We just have to find the butter and flour and vanilla and sugar…all that stuff. This is going to be so yummy.”
“And shock-let. Scock likes shock-let, too. You like shock-let?”
Scock? “Have you seen these hips?” She said it with a big grin, until she realized the impact of her comment. A joke among her friends was one thing, but teaching a little girl not to eat because it might make her fat was a whole other ball game. “Yes, Ruby. I love chocolate. I probably should’ve been a pastry chef.”
Ah. An image of Marco’s expression when she’d broken up with him popped her square in the gut.
He’d thought for sure it was a reaction to losing the franchise.
Your career took a hit. Don’t drop a bomb on your whole life.
But that was exactly what she wanted to do. Blow up her life, so she could start fresh.
Without a clean slate, her thoughts would be tied to salvaging what she had and not building something new. Besides, what if she wound up taking a job in Italy? Los Angeles?
That’s the whole point of coming to Wy-freaking-oming. The freedom to figure out the best future for herself.
Running her hand along the wall, she found the switch plate and flipped it on.
Holy mother of God. Kitchens in heaven look like this. White cupboards with glass-faced cabinets, gleaming stainless steel appliances, and huge swaths of granite, marble, and butcher block counter spaces. Two ovens, three sinks, and a massive custom-made refrigerator.
Crossing the spotless hardwood floor to what she hoped was a pantry, she thought about Callie. You wanted me to have a whole new perspective? Well, I sure as hell got it. The day before yesterday she was catching a cab for a meeting to get Da Nonna’s included in a New York City Food tour, and now she was in Wyoming, talking to a moose and baking with a little girl and her stuffed chicken.
“Oh, Ruby-bean, life can be pretty crazy sometimes, can’t it? I’m not comparing my loss to yours—no way—but…man.” She opened the door to—you’ve got to be kidding me—a mile of food stored on floor-to-ceiling shelves. “You should’ve seen my brother’s face when I told him I was coming here. To freaking Calamity.” She made a comical face, and the little girl smiled as she tucked her chin into the chicken’s soft, furry head. “For one second there I actually thought he’d change his mind. When I told him I hoped to hit it off with one of the chefs, maybe move to Italy? I thought for sure he’d let me have my franchise.”
Instead, he’d smiled sadly and said it sounded like something she would really enjoy.
He’d wished her luck.
“So, there you go.” She knew her siblings loved her—didn’t question that. And she also believed they thought she had real talent and needed to find the best way for her to express it. Intellectually, anyway.
But in her heart? She’d been shut out of the family business, and she didn’t know if she’d ever recover.
As she scanned the shelves, she determined to put New York behind her and embrace this new experience. She’d explore the town and its culinary offerings, meet the chefs and learn about local cuisine. “Looks like we’re both going to have to find new paths for ourselves, right, Ruby-bean?”
And one day, she was sure, it would all lead back to Da Nonna’s. It had to. It’s where I belong.
Boxes of organic chicken broth, bags of quinoa and farro, and sacks of
beans took up the bottom tier. The middle held great big baskets overflowing with beets, kale, carrots, and broccolini. “Would you look at this place? This is every chef’s fantasy kitchen.”
She found the basics—salt, baking powder, and vanilla—and carried it all to the island. Dumping the ingredients on the black marble, she washed her hands and then, with Ruby still in her arms, got to work.
“Okay, girl, let’s do this.” It was a little awkward, but she managed to measure the flour and dump it into a big ceramic bowl, all while chatting quietly. When she turned on the hand mixer, the little girl’s eyelids drooped, and when Delilah hummed as she stirred in the chunks of dark chocolate, Ruby yawned.
She smiled when the girl’s head flopped onto her shoulder, her legs dangling straight down. The chicken landed on the floor. Singing softly, Delilah swayed as she spooned big glops of batter into the silicone muffin cups.
“What the hell’s going on?” The deep male voice shattered the quiet.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Delilah jolted, her hand automatically going to Ruby’s back. She turned to see a big, brawny man standing at the entrance to the kitchen.
“Delilah?” With each step forward, he swallowed up air and square footage in the vast kitchen until she felt like she was alone with him in a closet.
She lived in a big city, and she’d traveled around the world. She’d seen men in all shapes, sizes, and colors. But this guy? A wall of muscle, he was hot, commanding, and…intense. He radiated pure testosterone with a tightly leashed energy.
“Yes. Hi. I hope…” She didn’t know whether to apologize for making herself right at home in his kitchen or thank him for letting her stay here.
But, since he had his gaze trained on his sister—and not in an Aw, how cute that my sister’s crashed out on you way—she leaned more toward the apologetic side. “She was awake when I got in.”