Her arm muscles strained as she mixed cream and eggs into the batter. There was probably a mixer around here somewhere, but she was used to baking by hand. She’d been so frightened of Mad Dog finding out she was running, she hadn’t dared to take any of her utensils. To be a great cook, she needed great tools, and she’d saved for each top of the line spatula, turner and strainer. Hopefully Pansy would think to get them before her landlord threw them out.
Good thing she’d found the bag of dried cranberries at the grocery yesterday. She folded the fruit into the scone batter then dumped the dough onto a section of countertop she’d floured. Kneading it helped work off some of the tension remaining from the sleepless night.
Cary rolled the dough into a circle and cut wedges. Slipping the scones into the oven, she poured her third cup of coffee this morning and sat at the table for a few minutes of relaxation. Scones, coffee and orange juice would be a great way to feed the cowboys. She’d screwed up last night, but she’d make up for it this morning.
She was slicing a cantaloupe and adding the pieces to a bowl of fresh fruit when Clinton Barnes walked in the door.
He took off his John Deere gimme cap and hung it on the hook by the door. “Hello, Miss Cary. What’s for breakfast?” The grizzled cowboy selected a cup from the dozen sitting on the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Cary smiled as she brought the heaping platter of scones to the table. “A treat.” She grabbed the huge bowl of fruit and set it in front of the man. “Here you go.”
Barnes looked from the food to Cary’s face and back again. He took one of the scones and took a bite. Licking his lips, he grinned. “These are good. What else have you got?”
“Uh….” She turned in a circle as if a magic something would appear to answer his question. She dropped into a chair across the scarred table from Barnes and dropped her face into her hands. “I’ve been up since five baking these. Aren’t they enough?”
Barnes dropped the scone and reached out to tap her hand. When she looked up, he grinned. He was younger than she’d first thought, maybe late forties. “These are real good, but the men need real food. They work hard and need protein.” He took another bite and sighed.
“I have eggs.” Cary dropped her head and bounced her forehead against the table. “God, all I seem to have to cook is eggs.”
“Eggs are a start. You don’t have long, but you have time to whip up a big batch of scrambled eggs and some bacon.” Barnes finished off his scone and reached for another one. “These will work great to finish off their breakfast.”
Cary scrambled two dozen eggs, adding chopped onion and peppers. As they cooked, she made a mound of toast and fried two pounds of bacon. She could hear the men outside the door as she placed the breakfast on the table. With a forced smile, she moved out of the way to let them eat.
Micah had let her off last night, but if he found out how she’d tried to feed his crew, especially after his mood swing, he’d kiss her ass goodbye without the kiss. She lowered herself to the top step on the back porch. For a woman who’d taken care of herself since she was seventeen, she was mucking up this job. The sound of a pair of heavy boots hitting the boards of the porch caught her attention.
Mr. Barnes sat beside her and handed her a cup of coffee. “I love the high desert in the morning.”
She hadn’t had time to look at the desert or anything else around here, and the way things were going, she wouldn’t. Past the irrigated fields, the sagebrush filled valley gave way to Juniper covered hills. The sweet scent of grass, sage and pine calmed her nerves. In the far distance, tall snow-capped mountains caught her eye. She pointed at them with her cup. “They’re beautiful.”
Barnes took a sip of his coffee. “The Three Sisters. The north sister is Faith, the middle, Hope and the youngest and tallest is Charity.” He turned his gaze from the scenery to Cary.
Cary tried to smile, to convince the man she had everything under control. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. Who was she kidding? She was as far from being in control as a kitten at a dog show. “Can I tell you something?”
He looked back to the mountain and nodded, giving her time.
“I can’t cook.” Words rushed out of her mouth like a raging river. “I mean I can, but I bake. I’m a pastry chef.”
“I know.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, fighting to control her emotions. How much could she tell this man? “I don’t know what to cook for the men.”
“I know that, too,” Barnes said then took another sip and stared at the scenery. “You just look in the cupboard above the fridge and pull out the little wooden box with the rooster painted on the front. That’s Minerva’s recipe box.”
“Minerva?” Cary picked up her cup.
Barnes stood and walked out into the sparse backyard. He turned to Cary. “Minerva was Micah’s grandmother. Fine woman and no better cook anywhere on this earth. You check that out.” He handed Cary his cup and disappeared around the corner of the house. She heard a diesel engine start and watched the plume of dust as her first friend in East Hope drove away. He hadn’t said many words, but he’d given her a wonderful present—hope.
She hurried back into the kitchen and chatted with the men as they tied their silk scarves in fancy knots, slipped into their coats and pulled on their boots. As they filed out the door, she called, “See you at lunch.”
She got by with sandwiches and soup for lunch, and since it was Saturday, she didn’t have to cook dinner.
By the time evening arrived, Willa Wild had gone to the neighbors to play with their kids, and she hadn’t seen Micah all day. After cleaning the kitchen, she finally got time to look for the recipes. She sat at the table, ran her hand over the smooth wood and slowly lifted the lid.
Four by six inch white cards filled the recipe box. Along with the regular dividers, several were hand written in delicate scrolled letters. One divider was labeled breakfast, one lunch and one dinner. She pulled out the breakfast cards and shuffled through them. There were at least ten different recipes and all were scaled to feed ten hungry men.
She was trying to fit them back into the box when Micah entered from the living room. She looked up and smiled. “Hey, look what I found.”
He didn’t smile back. In fact, his expression was filled with thunder. “What are you doing with that?”
~~~
The recipe box was one of only a few things Micah had left of his grandmother. By the time he’d gotten home from college for her funeral, his grandfather had cleaned and boxed up everything of hers and given it away. Micah knew it was grief that caused the reaction, but it didn’t make things better. The old man must have forgotten about the box.
“I didn’t mean to bite your head off.” He took the cards from Cary’s hands and straightened them before replacing them. “Grams kept all her favorite recipes in here. I need to make copies if you’re going to use them.”
He turned and walked across the room to the window, but he didn’t see the view. The sight of the box brought Grams to the front of his thoughts.
Willa Wild flew through the door and skidded to a stop. “What’s up, Pa?” Her small face was streaked with dirt, and she held a squirming, red puppy under one arm. “See what Mrs. Turner gave me.”
He looked at the fat mongrel in her arms. God save him from the good intentions of his neighbors. “Willa, you know we talked about this. No more dogs.”
His beautiful little daughter melted into a puddle of misery on the floor, but he wasn’t giving in this time. This is the way they got dogs three and four. “Willa Wild, enough.”
She looked up, her tear streaked face pinched in a great imitation of Scarlett O’Hara. “But he’ll die if I don’t take care of him, and Mrs. Turner said she wouldn’t take him back.” She turned to Cary. “Do you want a dog? He’s a good one.”
Micah bent down and touched Willa’s shoulder. “Cary doesn’t want the puppy. Take him back to Mrs. Turner.” He lifted h
is daughter off the floor and put her on her feet. The puppy waddled over to Cary and wiggled in front of her in a fit of puppy joy. He watched as she bent and scratched him behind the ears.
“His name is Goodun.” Willa grinned. “Because he is.”
“Goodun?” Cary picked up the pup and rubbed his ears.
“You know. Good one.” Willa Wild hurried over to Cary. “I thought he was meant to be mine, but I can see he’s yours.”
Cary tried to hand the pup back to the girl. “I don’t think—”
Time to stop this foolishness. “Willa Wild, take the puppy home. Cary doesn’t want a dog. She doesn’t have a place to keep it.” He looked up expecting the woman to be grateful he’d solved the problem, only to be scorched by the angry look on her face.
“You seem to be really good at assuming things, Mr. West.” Cary picked up the puppy and started toward the door. She stopped by Willa and touched her shoulder. “I think you’re right. Goodun and I are going to be great friends.”
His gaze got caught on her jeans-clad legs and the enticing way her rear end swayed as she moved up the stairs. A tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to his daughter. Except for the missing front teeth, her wide smile reminded him of his ex-wife. She was going to be a beauty one of these days. She was a handful at eight. What was it going to be like when she started dating? “We discussed this. You promised no more dogs.”
“But, Pa. She was gonna put him in a gunny sack and throw him in the river.” Her lip quivered, and she worked to squeeze a tear out of her eye.
“You know that isn’t true. Mrs. Turner wouldn’t do that.” He watched as she closed her eyes.
After a moment, her face relaxed and she opened her baby blues. “Yes but Pa, Mrs. Turner was going to take him to the pound and Jimmy Martin says they kill the dogs there. I couldn’t let him die.” She drew in a shuddery breath. “I just couldn’t.”
“Willa—”
The wide smile was back. “But this worked out just great, Pa. Goodun will keep Cary company so she won’t be lonely.”
His daughter could give Vivian Leigh a run for her money when it came to acting, and she hadn’t even hit her teens yet. He put his arm around her thin shoulders. “Come on Willa. Let’s have one of these donuts with some ice cream.”
When they’d finished their dessert, Willa gave him a kiss and ran upstairs to get cleaned up for bed. She kept his life entertaining to say the least. Thinking about his marriage still gave him heartburn, but having Willa in his life was worth every heartbreaking minute.
As he stacked the bowls in the sink, he heard a puppy’s whine. Turning, he watched as the pup ran into the room, barked at him then squatted on the floor. A puddle spread from beneath the animal. He looked up to see Cary’s horrified face.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t catch him quick enough.” She lifted the pup and hurried toward the door.
Micah followed her outside and watched as she put the animal on the lawn. The faint moonlight glowed in the white strands of her hair. When she turned to him, his breath stuck in his throat and his heartbeat raced.
“I’ve never had a pet before. Will you help me train Goodun?” Her smile faded away and her brow wrinkled. “I forgot. You were going to fire me before Willa came in with the puppy.”
This was his chance. All he had to do was say yes, and this crazy woman would pack her bag and leave. She’d probably even take the pup. He moved down the steps to stand in front of her. Opening his mouth to tell her she was right, the wrong words came out. “You seem to be really good at assuming things, Ms. Crockett.” Where the hell had that come from?
Cary’s smile lit up the dull night. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. Leaning back, her arms still around his neck, she said, “Thank you.”
Micah moved without thinking. His hands settled on her hips, and he pulled her body against his. The feel of her soft lips against his made him forget everything he needed to remember. Time slowed, and he got lost in her scent and feel, falling deeper with each passing second. He might have kissed Cary all night if Willa hadn’t chosen that moment to reappear.
“Pa, aren’t you going to tuck me in?” The voice came from the back door.
Startled, Micah jumped back. He heard the soft exclamation of dismay from Cary. “Go pick out a book, and I’ll be up in a minute.” The screen door slammed, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts. He almost took a moment too long.
Cary hurried toward the corner of the house.
“Where are you going?” Micah hurried after her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back to him.
“I can’t do that.” Cary kept her gaze on the ground and tugged at the hold he had on her hand.
“My fault.” Micah let go of her hand but stepped in front of her. “Won’t happen again.” He hoped he sounded sincere, because he wasn’t sure he could keep the promise.
“Damn right it won’t.”
Chapter Five
Cary lengthened her stride as she hurried toward barn, not quite running, looking over her shoulder every few steps to make sure Micah hadn’t followed. Only a few orange rays remained from the setting sun, casting long shadows across the packed dirt. She slid the heavy barn door shut and was engulfed in darkness.
Running her hands along the rough boards beside the door, she felt the smooth plastic of the light switch. As she flipped the switch, a dim bulb high in the rafters gave her enough light to make her way along the aisle. When she reached the pen with the baby calves, she dropped to the straw strewn floor. What was she thinking?
When Micah had kissed her, she didn’t think. Her brain short-circuited, and her body mutinied. She’d felt an attraction to the cowboy since the moment she’d spotted him in the café, and she’d worked to control it. But the moment his lips had touched hers tonight, her hard-fought-for control had disappeared into a poof of lust.
She didn’t need a man in her life. Her time with Ken proved she had lousy taste in men, and she wasn’t sure she could survive another heartbreak. But that was the least of her worries.
She was sure she couldn’t survive the fear she’d lived with after Ken left her to face Mad Dog alone. A shiver of dread raced across her skin, raising goose bumps all along her arms. Cary jumped to her feet. She drew in a long breath and held it until her heart rate slowed. There were no bad guys here. The calves weren’t worried. They were curled into black balls in the straw.
Get your act together, Crockett. Mad Dog wouldn’t find her here. Not yet. Patsy had promised to call if she noticed anything unusual.
A few more weeks here, just until she’d saved enough to make her escape, and she’d disappear again. Everyone would be happy.
Walking back to the house, Cary sucked in a calming breath with each step. She hesitated outside the front door then sank onto a porch chair. The setting sun cast a golden glow. Daffodils along the walk had just begun to bloom, and the buds on the lilac bushes were swollen to bursting. She relaxed and let her thoughts turn to Micah. She didn’t know him very well, but she was sure he wouldn’t force himself on her. All she had to do was make it clear she wasn’t interested in him, or sex.
The thought of Micah naked and in her bed sent a scorching charge through her cells. The man was not at all what she usually went for, but someone had forgotten to tell her brain. Micah West was exactly what her body wanted.
In desperation, she turned her thoughts to Willa Wild.
Where was the little girl’s mother, and who was she? Did Micah still have feelings for her? Willa would probably tell her if she asked, but it was better for everyone if she didn’t get involved. As soon as she had enough money to leave the state, she’d be on her way to New York and the rest of her life.
With a glorious burst of color, the sun sank below the horizon, coloring the very air a magical pink. Shadows from the giant pine striped the grass and flowers. With one last wistful glance around the yard, she went inside.
Closing the door, she turned j
ust as Micah descended the stairs. Heat covered her throat and settled on her cheeks. Maybe he was as embarrassed as she was. If she ignored him…
“Have a nice visit with the calves?” Micah followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. His nonchalance in the face of her overreaction to the kiss caused irritation to flash through her body. His smile made her grit her teeth.
Apparently he wasn’t as affected as she was by their kiss. Maybe he was used to kissing strange women. With his blue eyes, tantalizing smile and powerful shoulders, he must have women falling all over him. She was just a fool who got sucked into his sphere. “The calves are sleeping. Did you get Willa Wild tucked in?” She reached into the cupboard. The yellow mixing bowl she found had to be from the forties.
“Tucked in tight.” He rose and filled a cup with cold coffee from the pot and stuck it in the microwave. “What are you making?”
Cary measured out flour, baking powder, sugar and salt and mixed it with the whisk she’d found beneath the hand towels in the bottom drawer. The red painted handle was chipped and one of the wires was bent, but the thought of Micah’s grandmother using this to bake for her grandson warmed her heart.
“Apple cake.” The butter she’d set out earlier in the day was softened. She pulled several Gala apples from the refrigerator. The well-used Sunbeam Mixmaster she’d found in the pantry still worked, and she used it to build the sweet, rich cake.
Cary spent a good part of her childhood learning everything she could about baking at the Hot Cakes Bakery. Her mother had gone from one charity to another all through Cary’s childhood, always busy saving everyone but her daughter.
Helen, the owner of Hot Cakes, had taken the little girl in and kept her from being lonely. This apple cake was the first dessert Helen had taught her how to bake.
“You look like you know what you’re doing.”
Gimme Some Sugar Page 4