A Cowboy in the Kitchen

by Meg Maxwell

  Annabel smiled at Raina, then scooped up Lucy in her arms, balancing her on her hip. “Well, I guess we’d better sit down and let the cooking start.”

  Mayor Hickham poked his head out of the kitchen. “Okay. Essie and Clyde. The cook-off will commence in one minute. Please enter the kitchen.” The mayor had used his beloved bullhorn to announce the rules ten minutes earlier on the porch. The ground beef had been delivered wrapped in one package that the mayor would split into two. Essie and Clyde would inspect the beef and make sure it was to their satisfaction. Then the mayor would announce that it was time to begin.

  All in all, in about thirty minutes, a barbecued burger would end up changing Annabel’s life.

  Gram and her adversary shook hands at the kitchen door, then headed in. From their table, Annabel could hear the mayor say, “Three, two, one, start cooking!”

  Annabel glanced at West, sitting on the far side of the table. He seemed preoccupied as he stared out the window, Lucy playing a card game with her grandparents. I’m going to miss you both so much, she thought.

  The time passed so slowly. They’d only need around twenty minutes total to cook the burgers and make their sauce. Twenty minutes that moved like molasses.

  Finally Mayor Hickham came out of the kitchen, Gram and Clyde behind him. The mayor held two plates, one in each hand. Under each plate was a name tag noting whose burger was whose, but Annabel would recognize Gram’s brioche bun anywhere. The mayor set down the burgers at a stand in front of the dining room. Gram moved to the left, on her plate’s side of the table, Clyde to the right.

  The windows were all wide-open, people on the porch and in the backyard pressed close to hear.

  “Okay, folks,” the mayor began. “It’s time for me to judge. You know I love Essie Hurley like a sister and you know I love Clyde Heff like a brother, but I love burgers even more than both of them, so you know I’ll be honest.” That got a big laugh from the crowd. “The best burger will win!” He took a bite of Clyde’s burger, the expression on his face clear that it was good, as expected. Then he took a bite of Gram’s and his face scrunched and he not too delicately spit out his bite into a napkin.

  The crowd gasped.

  What the heck—

  “I’m sorry, Essie,” the mayor said, quickly downing a gulp of water, “but someone must have sabotaged your burger because I’d say it’s more salt than burger. There must be a tablespoon of salt in that one bite.”

  What? How could that be possible when both parties had inspected the beef?

  The mayor took another sip of water, still grimacing from the bite of Essie’s burger. “Either way, because of the rules, I’m very sorry to say that Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen is hereby disqualified and the winner is Clyde Heff!”

  Francie Heff started jumping up and down and squealing and the huge Heff family started blowing party horns as if it were New Year’s.

  Annabel glared at Francie jumping in her kitten heels. Francie must have poured a heap of salt on the meat. But how? It was impossible for Clyde’s beef to be fine and Gram’s to be full of salt. And anyway, Francie couldn’t have sabotaged the burger; she hadn’t been in the kitchen. The only people in the kitchen the entire time was Clyde Heff way on his side, Mayor Hickham in the center, keeping guard and watch, and Gram—

  Gram?

  Annabel whirled around, watching her grandmother shaking hands with Clyde Heff.

  “I don’t know what happened with your burger, Essie,” Clyde said, “but rest assured it wasn’t me or my daughter who had anything to do with it. I promise you that.”

  “I know that,” Essie said. “I guess it’s just one of those mysteries.”

  Not much of a mystery except for the why, Annabel thought.

  As Stanton Heff made a big show of handing Clyde a check for the ten thousand dollars, mock-wiping his brow, Annabel stared at her grandmother, waiting for a moment to get her attention.

  Finally Annabel took her grandmother’s hand and led her over into the office and closed the door. “Gram. You sabotaged your own burger. Why? You gave up ten thousand dollars!”

  “Okay, I did sabotage my burger with quite a bit of salt. I did it because you made a deal with West. That you’d stay for a few more months if we lost.”

  Annabel was even more confused. “Okay...?”

  Essie took Annabel’s hands. “And I know how much you love that man and his daughter. And I know that West loves you. I saw it in his face that day I told him he had my blessing. He only had my blessing because I know he loves you and always has. And I saw that love on his face today when he wished me luck. He’d rather do right by you and let you go than keep you at the ranch where he thinks you don’t want to be, Annabel. He has no idea how much you love him.”

  “Maybe not,” Annabel said. “I’ve tried not to show it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure West has tried not to show it too. But that man loves you like crazy.”

  Well, Annabel didn’t believe that.

  “A deal is a deal,” Gram said, holding both Annabel’s hands. “So off you go, back home to the ranch. Shoo, girl.”

  Oh, Gram.

  * * *

  Annabel headed out of the office, straining to see West in the crowd, which had started dispersing since Clyde called for a two-for-one burger celebration at Heffs. Big migration across the street.

  But there on the porch swing was West and Lucy, Raina and Landon chatting on the sidewalk.

  “Sorry Miss Gram didn’t win,” Lucy said, hopping up to hug Annabel.

  “Well, sometimes you win even when you lose,” West said, and Lucy looked up at him, wrinkling her face in confusion.

  “Sweetie, come get a smoothie with Nana and Pop-Pop,” Raina said. “I’m getting chocolate-coconut tonight.”

  “Ooh, me too!” Lucy said, racing over and grabbing both their hands as they swung her up.

  West patted the seat next to him, and Annabel sat down, watching the throngs of people crowding in front of Clyde’s Burgertopia.

  “Everyone’s talking,” West said, “and wondering who sabotaged your grandmother’s burger. Francie Heff is insisting on a re-cook-off so that her father can win fair and square, not by default. I can see that—everyone knows someone sabotaged that burger—”

  “My gram did.”

  He stared at her. “What? Why?”

  “She has this funny notion in her head about our marriage not being such a sham. She knows we made a deal that if Hurley’s lost today, I’d stay at the ranch a few more months so that I wouldn’t feel like I had to give you your money back so fast.”

  “Well, that’s what I meant when I said sometimes you win when you lose. Hurley’s didn’t get the ten grand. So I get to keep you a little while longer.”

  Confused, Annabel looked into his driftwood brown eyes. Her grandmother couldn’t be right about West loving her, but when had Gram Hurley ever been wrong, now that she thought about it? “I don’t understand why, though. You’ll never have to worry about Raina. You’re a good cook. Everything is fine now. I’m the one who needs you. Hurley’s needs you. You don’t need me.”

  “Hell I don’t.” He turned toward her, taking her hands in his, his gaze intense on her. “I married you to keep Lucy from being taken away from me, yes. But I’ve always loved you, Annabel. I loved you that night in the barn. And I loved you on our wedding night when I made love to you. And I’ve loved you every day since. I just couldn’t face it because I was so damned scared of losing someone I loved again.”

  Happiness zinged through every inch of Annabel’s body. Seven years ago, he’d given her up because he’d loved her. “Oh, West. I love you too. I loved you seven years ago and I’ve loved you every day of our supposedly sham marriage.”

  He smiled and kissed her, passionately, possessively. Then he lea
ned back, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s been very real to me too.”

  She took his hand, his gold wedding band shining in the moonlight. “What would you have done if my grandmother hadn’t cost herself the win?”

  “I would have had the worst night’s sleep, then marched into Hurley’s in the morning and announced in the middle of the kitchen that I love my wife and want her to come home.”

  Annabel smiled. “Really?” Though, of course, she could see him doing just that.

  “Heck yeah.”

  “So I guess this means I’m staying at the ranch for good,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck.

  “Well, now that I can make a decent meal and comb out my daughter’s hair and Raina Dunkin is in my corner, I can take over a lot of what you were doing for Lucy. So if you want to cook for Hurley’s or manage the restaurant or both, I’ll be supportive of whatever you want to do, Annabel Hurley Montgomery.”

  She reached up her hand to touch his cheek, overwhelmed by how much she loved him. “You’re a very good man, West Montgomery. And a very good husband.”

  He kissed her again and then they headed back inside Hurley’s to thank one very wise grandmother.

  Epilogue

  A week later, at the re-cook-off on Saturday afternoon, it was standing room only again in Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen as everyone waited for the mayor, Gram, and Clyde to come out of the kitchen with the two barbecue burgers. The delicious aromas coming from the kitchen were almost unbearable, and since the restaurant would be closed for lunch for the cook-off, Annabel and Hattie had made a heap of appetizers and biscuits to keep folks satisfied.

  A ping on Annabel’s phone let her know she had a text. Detective Slater. I’m on the porch. Can you come out?

  Annabel bit her lip and got up from her table, whispering to West that she’d be back in a minute. She weaved her way through the crowd to reach the cop. Please have good news, she thought.

  Detective Slater nodded at her. “Annabel, I did see your sister Georgia this past weekend in Houston. She seems just fine.”

  So why was his expression so strained, his voice tight?

  “She seemed happy?” she asked, trying to read the handsome cop’s face.

  He looked away for a moment, his dark eyes distant. “Yeah. She did.”

  She waited for him to say something else, elaborate, but he didn’t. “Okay, then. I’m very relieved to hear that. And thanks for checking on her. I feel a lot better.”

  After a quick “you’re welcome” he headed down the porch steps. Annabel knew there was more to the story than the detective was letting on. But Georgia was okay. Happy even. And she’d come home when she could.

  Annabel rejoined her table just as Mayor Hickham came out of the kitchen carrying two plates, each holding a scrumptious-looking burger, Gram and Clyde Heff behind him. As the mayor set the plates down on the podium, Gram moved to his left and Clyde to his right.

  Mayor Hickham took a bite of Clyde’s burger, his pleased sigh a clear sign that the burger was amazing, which made Annabel nervous. She and Clementine shared a worried glance, and West took hold of Annabel’s hand and held it tightly.

  Then the mayor bit into Gram’s burger, that same sigh escaping, his eyes closing.

  It seemed like slow motion as he took a sip of water, then bit into each burger again. Then again.

  Finally he lifted his bullhorn. And declared the winner: a tie.

  He said that both burgers were so darned good that he couldn’t in good conscience possibly say one was better than the other. Clyde Heff wrote out a check to Essie for the difference, five thousand dollars, and they shook on it. The crowd clapped and cheered, except for Francie Heff, who rolled her eyes and started talking her father’s ear off about their next big publicity event. Everyone laughed when Clyde picked up a biscuit from his family’s table, swiped some apple butter on it, handed it to Francie and told her “more eating, less talking.” Even Francie smiled.

  An hour later, the restaurant closed to the public till dinnertime, Annabel and Gram came out of the kitchen with a platter of winning barbecue burgers and a bunch of sides, from Lucy’s favorite long, skinny fries to the spicy slaw West was always trying to make to perfection at home, to the corn bread Raina could never resist. They sat down at the big table by the window, the view of the Sweet Briar Mountains in the distance, West and Landon talking about the therapeutic riding program, Raina excitedly mentioning that she would be working with a young woman tomorrow afternoon at the ranch. Clementine made a smiley face out of ketchup for Lucy to dip her fries through, and Gram happily bit into her barbecue burger, cleared by her doctor to enjoy every last bite of it.

  Annabel looked around the table, her heart soaring to be with her family—the Hurleys, the Montgomerys, the Dunkins—talking, laughing, eating, sharing. No matter where she was, with these people she’d be home.

  * * * * *

  Look for Georgia’s story,

  THE DETECTIVE’S 8 LB, 10 OZ SURPRISE and Clementine’s story coming soon!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from FROM DARE TO DUE DATE by Christy Jeffries.

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  From Dare to Due Date

  by Christy Jeffries

  Chapter One

  The melting ice cubes in Mia Palinski’s vodka and tonic were symbolic of the way her future was dissolving before her eyes.

  She’d just turned thirty, yet no matter how many times she’d told herself that it was time to come to terms with her new life, she still couldn’t shake the lingering wish that tonight it should’ve been her up on the stage of the Egyptian Theatre, pirouetting across the dance floor.

  Watching the piano player on the opposite end of the bar, she wondered if the balding man once had bigger aspirations than playing old standards in the lounge of some swanky hotel in downtown Boise. Most performers did. At least she could take comfort in the thought that she wasn’t the onl
y one not living her dream.

  And while she didn’t begrudge her darling students their chance to shine in their roles as the fairy-tale wedding guests in the Idaho Youth Performing Arts’ rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty, Mia would have been more comfortable if she hadn’t been stuck backstage with Mrs. Rosellino, who thought her six-year-old daughter was going to be the next Martha Graham.

  Along with most of the other dance instructors who had students performing in tonight’s ballet, Mia referred to the delusional stage moms as idealists. Because unless sweet Madison Rosellino miraculously developed a decent amount of rhythm and learned to keep her finger out of her nose during performances, the sweet and quiet girl would probably never make it to Juilliard.

  Her eye gave an involuntary twitch at the memory of her own mother, who was so similar to the Mrs. Rosellinos of the world. Mia took a sip of her now diluted drink, trying to wash away the reminder of the well-meaning but overbearing woman who had pushed her only child into competitive cheer rather than classical dance. Rhonda Palinski had wanted all eyes on Mia and had forcefully maneuvered her daughter onto the football fields, where the stages were bigger, the lights were brighter and the crowds were rowdier.

  Her phone vibrated on the smooth-finished walnut bar beside her glass. She saw a group text message from her friends Maxine Cooper and Kylie Gregson. She loved them and knew they wanted an update on how the Labor Day performance had gone, but she couldn’t bear to put on the brave face and pretend she wasn’t hosting a pity party for one in an empty hotel bar. She grabbed a handful of fancy nuts out of a silver bowl. At least she gave in to her self-commiserations only in first-class establishments.

  Mia loved and hated nights like tonight. She loved the music and she loved the dancing and she loved watching her young students and their contemporaries get to display the talents that they had worked so hard on during summer rehearsals. She truly didn’t even mind the overbearing parents who expected their first-graders to be ballet prodigies and became annoyed when Mia didn’t push the kids harder.