Lucy groaned. "Take it easy on me. I didn't get much sleep last night."
Paige took a piece of pineapple and popped it into her mouth. "Can't you take some meds for that or something?"
Lucy scooted the rest of the fruit farther from Paige. She'd tried everything, but the prescriptions had left her too groggy too function the next morning, and nothing else seemed to work. She grabbed a carton of eggs, and then loosened her grip, hoping she hadn't cracked any of them in her frustration. "I'm going to check on Dylan and his gaggle of followers. Don't eat anything else while I'm gone."
"Say hi to Reed while you're in there."
As Lucy walked through the living room, Dylan met her gaze right away, but not in the Help me! way she'd expected.
He smiled and moved out from behind the table to greet her. "Ladies, have you all met Lucy Pickett."
Nana's nostrils flared. "Yes. You're the one who fed me baby food."
Lucy gritted her teeth. She stepped forward, almost tripping as the little dog that had been in Nana's purse yelped. Today, it wore a sunflower yellow bow in its hair that matched Nana's pantsuit. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Tornsten."
Nana snatched the little dog up from the floor. "As I said before, I like for people to call me Nana." She narrowed her eyes. "I must admit your food today is wonderful. My guests are raving about how delicious and beautiful the buffet is. Those little pastries are divine."
Lucy straightened her shoulders. It was the first compliment she'd received from Nana, and it had been hard-earned. "Thank you."
Nana put a hand on Dylan's arm. "I'm going to go visit with some guests who just walked in. Penelope and I will see you in a bit."
Dylan nodded. "I'll be here."
When she'd walked away, Lucy looked to Dylan. "Penelope?"
He raised his eyebrows. "The dog."
She nodded. "Ah. Of course."
Why did Dylan have to look so good in that crisp white button up and western jeans? After yesterday, she wanted to keep her distance from him. Just being around Dylan transported her memories to a place she didn't want to go. Mention of her father's accident only made things worse. "Is everything going okay out here?"
He looked around at his burners, skillets, and bowls of fillings. "I think I have it under control." He cleared his throat. "But I wanted to apologize again about yesterday."
She held up her hand. "There's no need to do that. It's just one of those things I don't like to talk about."
His blue eyes, always searching for something in hers, left her unsettled.
"Well, if you ever do want to talk about it..."
She shook her head. "Thanks, but it was a long time ago." She'd buried those feelings years ago, and this cowboy standing in front of her was a little too eager to dig them back up.
A woman in an expensive-looking Chanel suit approached them. "I've heard these omelets are to die for."
His attention lingered on Lucy.
"I'm sure Dylan would be happy to fix you one any way you'd like." She smiled at the beautiful woman and turned away.
Before she could make it back to the safety of the kitchen, Reed stopped her. He stuck his hand out to her like she was a new client. "Lucy. I was hoping you would be here."
She still didn't know how to navigate this new friendship, or whatever it was, with her ex-boyfriend.
Reed was handsome in a polished sort of way. He didn't have the height or broad shoulders Dylan had, but his face was perfectly symmetrical. His neatly knotted tie and his shiny shoes made her more aware of her chef's coat and flats.
She swallowed, trying to shake off her encounter with Dylan. "I'm glad you made it. Paige told me you might be here."
"Everyone is excited about the wedding. Between your cooking and your sister's planning, it'll be an amazing event." His toothy smile might as well have sent off a little flash of light. "I just had some of your grits. They were amazing."
She shifted. "Actually, I didn't make those."
He shook his head, not a hair moving out of place. "I'm sorry. I thought—"
"There are two of us working today." Her eyes cut over to Dylan, who had turned on his usual charm for the blonde. He laughed with the woman, his boots firmly planted on the hardwood floor. He looked so solid and sure of himself. His steadiness was a contrast to the tightrope she always felt she was walking. One wobble to the left or right, and she might come tumbling down. "Dylan made the bacon grits and is making omelets, and I baked the pastries and handled the rest of the buffet." She shifted. "So...how is your work going?"
He leaned in closer. "Amazing. We've taken on some big cases, and I'm still on track to become the youngest partner in the firm."
She forced a smile. One thing hadn't changed. He was still obsessed with becoming partner. "That's great. Congratulations."
Over Reed's shoulder, the woman had disappeared, and J.T. Shaw approached Dylan's workstation. Her heart pounded, and she prayed Dylan wouldn't do anything to ruin her chances with the man who could make or break her professional dream.
#
Dylan cracked another egg but didn't take his eyes off of Lucy and the short guy in the expensive suit. She looked uncomfortable and ready to escape, but as much as he wanted to walk over there and save her, Lucy didn't seem like the kind of woman who appreciated an uninvited rescue.
A balding man in a burnt orange tie and thick black glasses approached, blocking his view of Lucy. "I'm J.T. Shaw. I heard you're sharing chef duties at the wedding with Lucy Pickett."
Dylan returned the man's firm handshake. "Dylan Lawson. It's good to meet you."
J.T.'s hand rubbed his stomach that bulged out over his belt. "I had a plate of your food, and it's excellent. Who did you train under?"
Dylan took a whisk and beat the eggs in the bowl. "I'm not a trained chef. I fell into the cooking gig."
When J.T. stepped aside to make room for two women to squeeze by him, Dylan's gaze returned to Lucy like a heat-seeking missile. Dylan reminded himself to keep his distance, but that didn't stop him from noticing how she could make even a chef's coat and messy ponytail look so good. The guy with the black hair obviously agreed, because he was leaning in too close to her now.
J.T. moved back to his spot between Dylan and Lucy. "What do you mean by stumbled into the business?"
Dylan added milk and salt and pepper to the bowl and whisked them again. "I handled the meals when we were out driving cattle in my last job. I've been cooking on the side for parties and events ever since."
"Self-taught. A natural talent. I like that. I'm looking forward to testing out more of your food. I'm going to be opening a restaurant, and I'm looking for an executive chef."
"Here in Dallas?" Dylan asked.
"Right in the heart of the city. I'm looking for someone who's going to create a menu to set the tone for the entire restaurant. I was thinking of going another direction, but your style of comfort food seems surprisingly sophisticated."
Dylan shook his head and laughed. He'd never been described as sophisticated a day in his life. "I'm glad you like it."
J.T. tipped his chin low. "So are you interested?"
Dylan dumped the egg mixture into the omelet pan on the hot plate in front of him. "Interested?"
"In the chef position."
Was this guy serious? Since the first time he'd sat in a saddle, everyone had assumed he'd do the same thing for a living as his father did and his grandfather did before that. No one had talked to him about college, not that there'd have been any money for it. Nothing wrong with taking care of other men's livestock and fixing other men's fences, but Dylan wanted more. But a few catering jobs didn't make him a legitimate chef. "I appreciate the interest, but so far, this cooking thing has only been a side job to pick up some extra cash."
Dylan couldn't help but wonder what his sister would think if she heard he got a job as the chef of a fancy restaurant in Dallas. Maybe that would convince her to go back to school.
"I unde
rstand your hesitation. It would be a change from ranching, but this is a big opportunity. Do you have a business card on you?"
A business card? Dylan pretended to search for one, patting his pockets. "It looks like I'm fresh out, Mr. Shaw."
Out of his pocket, J.T. pulled out a black card. "Here. Take mine."
Dylan ran his thumb across the official-looking white lettering. As much as he wanted to believe this could be his chance to run his own kitchen, he didn't know if this guy was the one who could make it happen.
J.T. stepped behind the table with him but stared out toward the people, all huddled in small circles in the living room. "And let's keep this conversation between us for now," he said, his voice low.
Dylan's spine stiffened. "I've never been a big fan of secrets."
A firm hand landed on his shoulder. "It's just a business decision. I don't like it when news of my investments gets out before anything is finalized."
Dylan slid the business card in his shirt pocket. "I guess I can respect that."
The short dark-headed man who'd been with Lucy approached them. Dylan tried not to make a habit of judging other people, but there was something about this guy that made his malarkey meter jump into the red.
"Dylan," J.T. said. "Have you had a chance to meet my nephew, Reed?"
Reed gave him the same strong handshake as his uncle had, but he didn't look like he'd done a hard day's work in his life. Dylan nodded toward Heather, who was introducing Wyatt to an elderly man with a walker. His friend was doing his best to fit into his fiancée's world, but Wyatt still looked as stiff and uncomfortable as a brand-new saddle. He turned back to Reed. "How do you know the couple?"
Reed stuck a hand in the pocket of his fancy suit. "Heather and I took French lessons when we were in elementary school."
Dylan cringed. Lucy didn't belong with a pretty boy like Reed, but Dylan didn't have any right to tell her that. No matter how good of friends they'd been when they were younger, he'd only shown up back in her life a week ago.
J.T. took his glasses off and waved them toward his nephew. "Reed is an attorney at one of the best firms in the city."
"Impressive."
J.T. turned around to shake the hand of another suit behind them.
Reed's gaze moved back toward the kitchen. "So how has it been working with Lucy?"
Dylan couldn't keep the smile from curling on his lips. "She's great. She can be a firecracker. Are you two friends?"
Right on cue, she walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of fruit salad for the buffet. She glanced at them, her eyes narrowing a bit.
Reed took a sip from a champagne flute. "Lucy and I used to be a couple, and we're kind of on the verge of reconciliation."
"Well, ain't that something."
Reed nudged him with his elbow. "And take it from me. She is a little firecracker."
Dylan stared down at Reed. "Is that right?" he said, fighting to keep his cool.
Reed pointed his glass at where Wyatt stood with an arm around Heather. "You must think Wyatt's a pretty lucky guy, marrying into one of the wealthiest families in Dallas."
"He's made plenty of his own money on the rodeo circuit."
Reed scoffed. "Yes, but a little rodeo money doesn't mean he belongs here. Nobody understands how a woman like Heather ended up with a hick like him."
Dylan clenched his fist. This guy needed someone to knock him down to size. "Anyone in this room would be lucky to know Wyatt, and it's pretty clear to me that money can't buy even a guy like you any class."
Reed's face turned red. "You're pretty brave for a guy who's only here to serve us omelets and grits." He downed the rest of his champagne. "If I were you, I'd be careful who you mess with, Dylan."
Before Dylan could respond, Reed turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Dylan stretched his neck from one side to the other, trying to release the urge to follow him. Why did he suddenly feel like his place in life was to protect Lucy from men like Reed Shaw?
Chapter Six
Lucy yawned as she unscrewed the lid of her silver thermos and filled it to the brim with coffee. The aroma did its best to wake her up, but the lack of sleep last night still gripped her.
A knock sounded on the front door. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Exactly 4 a.m. How was she going to survive this day? Not only the lack of sleep, but the closeness to Dylan. He was a constant reminder of all the things she wanted to forget. And she couldn't help but wonder what he felt about her. Pity? Did he judge her as harshly for what she'd done as she judged herself?
She swung open the front door and motioned him inside. "This is cruel and unusual punishment, you know?"
Dylan chuckled under his breath and removed his dirty hat as he stepped inside. Every detail of him, the Carhartt jacket he wore, the deep creases in his boots, the tan of his neck and face, screamed cowboy through and through. Any other woman would have probably loved the way his broad shoulders and bigger than life persona took up space in her small condo, but Lucy wanted to keep her distance from men like him. She knew what most cowboys were like—charming but unpredictable and unreliable.
She spread her arms out for him to inspect her jeans, tennis shoes, and yellow tank top. "Is this okay? My western clothes are all at the cleaners."
He gave a short nod. "You look great," he said more seriously than she'd expected. He rubbed his hands together. "So, are we ready to get out of here?"
Lucy took a gray, zip-up sweatshirt from the hook by the door. "I think so."
She locked the door behind her and carried the thermos of coffee that would be her lifeline toward the elevator. They were both silent as they stepped inside, and she couldn't stop thinking about their last elevator ride at the wedding venue.
She had so many questions for him about what they would be doing today, but she only stared at the blinking numbers of the elevator.
When they walked out of the building to the street, the sky was still dark, and only a few of the windows above them were lit. She followed Dylan down the sidewalk under the street lamps. Finally they came to a huge pickup truck with a trailer hitched to the back that took up two parking spaces. Her feet froze to the sidewalk, and she pointed at the monstrosity. "What is that thing?"
He stuffed his hat back on his head and pulled at a rope attached to the flatbed trailer and a large wagon wheel. "It's a chuck wagon."
"Like from City Slickers?"
He cocked an eyebrow at her and then turned back to the rope.
On the back of the trailer was a contraption that would have fit better on a cattle drive than in the middle of the city. A streetlight shined on four huge wheels with long spokes and a wooden box on the back of the chuck wagon with little evidence left of its original green paint.
She had to learn to start asking more questions before she agreed to things. "It's...uh...not what I expected."
"We better get on the road if we want to make it to Oklahoma City on time."
The words jolted through her. The remains of her sleepiness drained out of her body. "Oklahoma City? You never said we were leaving Dallas."
"I may have forgotten to mention that," he said, repeating what she'd told him at the senior center.
Her mouth fell open, but words didn't escape.
Dylan opened the passenger door for her, and a sturdy looking dog with a muddled bluish-gray coat and tiny brown eyes stared back at her. "Scoot over, Red. That's Lucy's seat." Dylan poked at the dog until it reluctantly moved toward the center. "Don't worry. Red's friendly."
Was Lucy still asleep? This had to be a dream—a very surreal dream. She shook her head. "We're going to be cooking in Oklahoma with a chuck wagon and a dog?"
He opened the door wider and swept his arm in front of him. "Climb in. You'll love it." He put a hand on her back and leaned in toward her. "Trust me."
His touch sent warmth down her spine. She certainly didn't trust him. He was a cowboy. She also didn't have the energy to resist him this ear
ly in the morning. Lucy sighed. "Okay."
He wiped the coarse hair Red had left behind from the seat of the truck and helped her climb inside.
"Are there going to be any other surprises today?" she asked.
Dylan adjusted his hat. "I sure hope so."
She took a deep breath. The scent of hay reminded her of checking cattle with her father. She pushed the memories away but feared it would be impossible to keep them at bay today.
Dylan climbed in and turned the key. The diesel engine started with a low rumble.
Lucy shifted in her seat. "Are you sure you need me to go? I have a feeling I'm going to get in the way."
Ignoring her, Dylan pulled the truck and the rattling trailer into the street. "Hey, a deal's a deal. If you want me to cook at the wedding, you have to help me today."
Her heart rate picked up as she glanced back and watched her building disappear in the distance. "You didn't give me all the facts. What are we doing? When will we be home?"
The dog looked back and forth at them, one eyebrow raising and then the other.
Dylan rubbed his fingers between the dog's ears. "You make it sound like Red and I are kidnapping you."
Right now, this felt a little like a kidnapping.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Relax. It's a chuck wagon festival. There will be lots of other wagons and lots of other cowboys cooking today. It's going to be painless, I promise. And who knows, you might even have some fun."
Things were simpler when Dylan used to let her boss him around the ranch, but that had been ages ago.
Dylan was quiet for the next few minutes as he maneuvered the vehicle through the streets and onto the on-ramp of the interstate. The dark cab of the truck with the glow of the buttons on the dash felt too intimate for two people who were spending the day together alone for the first time in fourteen years.
The tag on the dog collar jingled as Red stood. She turned in a circle and sat on the seat, the warm breath from her nose on Lucy's arm. A pink tongue reached out and licked her hand. This day definitely wasn't going to be what she'd expected.
#
Once Dylan had gotten them onto the interstate, he glanced over at Lucy. She looked gorgeous with the lights on the road sweeping across her face, but she still had that irritating city-girl attitude. What would her father say if he saw her acting like she'd never climbed in a pick-up truck? Or worse, what would he have said about a pretty boy like Reed Shaw? He wanted to ask her what she thought about Reed, but he held back, not wanting to climb over the wrong fence quite yet. "So I thought the brunch went well, didn't you?"
Kiss the Cowboy Page 5