by JoAnn Ross
“Johnny didn’t serve dessert?” Rachel asked.
“Well, not that anyone would want to eat,” Jenna said.
“Or would dare to,” Layla said. “When I first came back to town and went into practice, I used to wonder why people didn’t show up at my office with food poisoning. I finally decided that no one could eat enough of his meals to get sick.”
“Austin even offered him her cranberry apple pie, which you’ll discover is to die for,” Jenna said. “He turned her down flat. Same as he did her amazing, almost better than sex chocolate marble cheesecake. Which was lucky for me.” She smiled at Austin as she took a sip of wine. “You should hire her.”
“Now, Jenna,” Austin protested. “You don’t have to push.”
“I’m not pushing,” Jenna said. “Merely making a suggestion. It can’t be that easy for Rachel to do all the cooking and baking while managing the New Chance.”
“I don’t have much choice at this point,” Rachel said. “Though I did manage to hire Johnny’s prep cook, dishwasher, and a few of his servers.”
“They’re good people,” Jenna said after Rachel had named them. “They’re probably thrilled to have a chance to work for someone who knows what she’s doing.”
“There are a lot of days I wonder if I know anything.”
The bookseller laughed. “Join the club. I always say the problem with having your own business is that if you hate your boss, you have only yourself to blame. But unless you’re seriously passionate about baking, why not get your desserts from the best baker in Southern Oregon? Probably the entire state?”
It wasn’t a bad idea. Granted, Rachel wasn’t swimming in financial resources. But neither was Austin, apparently. And if the rancher/baker’s pie tasted half as good as it looked and smelled, her desserts could draw in even more business.
Also, not only would it be one less thing Rachel would have to worry about, going with the “time is money” maxim, it would give her more time to focus on other things. Perhaps she’d even have more of a life away from work.
“I wouldn’t want to take away from your business,” she told Jenna.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the bookstore owner said. “I close at five, so I’m not serving the dinner crowd. And as I said, we’re talking small item desserts, so we wouldn’t be in any competition.”
“Maybe we can talk later,” Rachel said to Austin. “After dinner.”
Sky blue eyes echoed the first real smile Rachel had seen since she’d arrived. “I’d like that.”
When Cooper suggested a horseback ride before dinner, Scott, unsurprisingly, jumped at the offer, which is why, after being assured her presence wasn’t needed in the kitchen, Rachel was walking with Cooper and Scott toward the barn when a forest green SUV pulled into the circular stone driveway already filled with cars.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Cooper called out as the newcomer climbed out of the driver’s seat and headed toward them.
“Lori Prescott called me at home because her toddler wouldn’t stop crying. Since she’s already got two kids, knows the teething drill and isn’t one to exaggerate, I couldn’t ignore her suspicion that the little girl had an ear infection. Which turned out to be the case when I stopped by their ranch on the way here.”
“You make house calls?” Rachel asked, remembering the day Scott had come down with a fever and blazing red throat. Unable to fit her son in, the pediatrician had referred them to the Walk-In Care office where they’d had to wait three hours to get antibiotics for a strep throat.
“Occasionally,” he said. “Lori’s stuck hosting the family dinner this year, and one thing she didn’t need was a screaming toddler on her hands.”
“Especially given that Dorothy Prescott is one of those mother-in-laws who doesn’t believe any woman’s ever good enough for her son. Which totally ignores the fact that John and Lori have been happily married for twelve years,” Cooper said.
“That would be true on both counts,” the man who had to be Cooper’s brother said. Although he was taller and lankier than Cooper, there was no mistaking the family resemblance.
“You must be Rachel Hathaway,” he said. “The woman who’s come to save us all from starving.”
“That might be an overstatement, but I’m Rachel. This is my son, Scott.” She put her hand atop the crown of his Stetson. “And you’d be Dr. Ryan Murphy.”
“That’s me. But you can skip the doctor part. Hey, Scott, great to meet you.” He held out his hand. “I like the hat.”
“Cooper got it for me,” her son said, practically bursting with pride.
“I figured that might be the case.” Ryan Cooper flashed a grin every bit as devastating as his brother’s, making Rachel think the Murphy men should come with a warning label. “If I didn’t know you were new to River’s Bend, I’d have bet you’d grown up on one of the local ranches.”
Scott beamed. “We’re going to go horseback riding.”
“It’s a great day for it,” Ryan said.
“I’ve been meaning to call your office,” Rachel said.
“Are you okay?” Cooper asked, shooting her a sharp look.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s just that everything was so hectic when we were getting ready to leave Connecticut, then after we arrived here, we haven’t gotten around to getting flu shots.”
Just getting flu would be bad enough. Coming down with it, or having Scott sick, while she was trying to re-open the New Chance would be even worse.
“No problem,” Ryan said easily. “Just call and tell Layla to get you in whenever it fits into your schedule.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He shrugged in a way she recognized all too well. “It’s my job.”
Oh, yes, Rachel thought. River’s Bend’s doctor was definitely Cooper Murphy’s brother.
“Have a nice ride,” he said before continuing toward the ranch house.
The day had dawned a perfect one with a crisp autumn tang in the air. Flaming red willows along the water provided a bright contrast to white-trunked aspen and in the distance the tree-covered Cascades were already wearing their winter coats. Rising above them all, the volcanic peak of Modoc Mountain gleamed like an ice palace.
When everyone else had come up with pitifully flimsy reasons to remain behind, it had been all too obvious that she and Cooper were targets of a matchmaking conspiracy. But on this perfect day Rachel couldn’t be upset by the other’s heavy handed maneuvering. She was, after all, an intelligent, grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. If she did decide to have an affair with Cooper, it didn’t mean that she’d immediately begin planning a wedding menu.
Eighteen months ago she might have been more vulnerable to manipulation. But she’d successfully faced down lawyers, accountants, bankers, and a slug of a therapist with the morals of an alley cat.
“Something funny?” Cooper asked as they rode along the river trail, Scott out in front of them.
“Excuse me?”
“You laughed.”
“I did?”
“You did. And you really should do it more often.” He was wearing aviator shades against the brilliant fall sun, but Rachel knew, from the warmth of his voice, that his eyes were smiling.
“I was thinking back over the past eighteen months.”
“That’s good you’ve gotten so you can laugh about it. It shows progress.”
“It does,” she agreed. “I’m not where I want to be quite yet. But I’m getting there.” She smiled at him. “I’m also having a wonderful day. I’m glad I came.”
“I’m glad, too.” He tilted his hat back with his thumb, a sign, she’d noticed, he tended to do when he was thinking. But before he could share whatever thoughts with her, Scott called out.
“Cooper! Are those eagles?”
Rachel lifted her gaze to the magnificent bald eagles circling overhead in a wide blue western sky.
“Sure are,” Cooper answered. “They’re riding the
air currents. We’re on the Pacific flyway, so you’ll see lots of migrating birds this time of year. But these are probably part of our resident population.”
“They’re really cool.” Scott’s gaze tracked the white-headed birds while his horse, obviously familiar with the trail, walked along, mindless of the fact that his rider had let the reins go slack.
“They are that. And I, for one, am glad Ben Franklin didn’t get his way when he lobbied for the turkey to be named the national bird.”
“Is that true?” Scott turned around in the saddle. Rachel held her breath, waiting for him to slide off as they came around the bend just ahead, but his horse, sensing a now total lack of control, simply stopped and waited for the situation to change.
“Sure is. Though he was talking about wild turkeys, which aren’t anything like the one roasting away in the oven back at the house. But they’re still not as cool as eagles.”
“That’s for sure. I’d also feel real bad about eating an eagle.”
“Me, too, sport,” Cooper agreed. “Now, why don’t you pick those reins up again, settle yourself in the saddle and we’d better get back before Gram grounds me for keeping you and your mom past dinner time.”
“You couldn’t get grounded,” Scott scoffed. “You’re a grownup. And the sheriff.”
Cooper’s rich, baritone laugh caused an all-too-familiar jittering in Rachel’s stomach.
“Wait until you get to know my grandmother better,” he said. “You’ll discover she’s a powerful force to be reckoned with.”
“She likes me,” Scott said. “She let me lick the spoon after she mixed up a spice cake.”
“Of course she likes you. She may be a formidable woman, but she’s also smart enough to recognize what a great kid you are.”
Scott beamed as if Christmas had arrived a month early, and Santa had been generous. It was obvious that to his nine-year-old mind, Cooper could do no wrong. Just as it was readily apparent that he soaked up compliments from the sheriff like a too-dry sponge.
Which could become a problem. But as they rode back toward the ranch, the sound of the icy river tumbling over rocks nearly drowned out by the loud honking of long-necked geese flying overhead, Rachel decided to put that possible complication aside for now and enjoy the first perfect day she could remember in a very long time.
Even with whatever was bothering Austin and Jake’s ongoing government problem, conversation flowed easily both during and after dinner, and by the time they drove home with the leftovers Betty had boxed up and Scott dozing in the back seat, Rachel knew that an entire week at Disney’s Magic Kingdom would have paled in comparison to this single day at the Murphy’s Bar M ranch.
28
After Scott crashed into bed, Rachel had just put the leftovers away in the fridge when Cooper put his hands on her hips, drawing her close.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Every female part of her body was shouting out Yes!
“Oh?”
“What would you say to going away together?”
“Where? When?”
“There’s an Oregon Law Enforcement banquet and dance next Friday night. Although I usually try to avoid any event that has me putting on a tie, I have to attend this one and was thinking you might like a night off from the New Chance.”
Maybe it was how much she’d enjoyed spending the day with his family and friends. Or how Cooper being in her kitchen felt so right. Maybe it was the way the smoldering sensuality in his gaze warmed her body, but a night away from all her responsibilities sounded like nirvana.
A night off with Cooper Murphy sounded deliciously decadent. Like the molten red velvet lava cake Austin had proposed adding to the New Chance’s dessert menu. But better.
Remembering back to the horse ride, when Cooper had seemed about to say something, she wondered if he’d been wanting to ask her then. Putting that together with a few words she’d caught between Dan and Ryan while she’d been refilling the chip bowl during the football game, Rachel had her answer. “You’re getting an award.”
“Yeah. I guess I am.”
“What for?”
“I don’t recall the exact wording,” he hedged. “Something about valor in the field.”
Rachel knew if she’d been receiving the award, she would have memorized every word. “Congratulations. You must be very proud.”
He shrugged, appearing uncomfortable. “I was just—”
“If you dare try to tell me that valor is merely part of your job, I’ll hit you over the head with my heaviest sauté pan, Cooper Murphy.” It was an idle threat, and they both knew it.
“Yes ma’am.” he said, not entirely repressing a grin.
“That’s better. And I’d be honored to watch you receive your award.”
Now that Cooper had cleared the first hurdle, it was time for what he feared could be a deal breaker. “The banquet’s being held at an inn on the coast. What would you say to driving up there Friday, then coming home Sunday evening?”
“So we’d be spending the entire weekend together?”
Yes, that was precisely what he wanted. It was what he’d wanted since that first day when she walked into the New Chance Café, smelling like wildflowers in the midst of all that lingering smoke.
“We’d have separate rooms.” Which wasn’t his preferred choice. But he’d promised to give her the time and distance she needed. “Say yes, Rachel.”
Unable to resist touching her, he brushed the back of his hand down the side of her face and decided to play his trump card. “Did I mention the menu’s being catered by Chef Madeline Chaffee?”
“Seriously?”
“What’s what it says on the program I was emailed.”
“I suppose I could ask Mrs. MacGregor to stay with Scott for the weekend.”
She sounded less than enthusiastic about that idea. “I was thinking he could stay at the ranch,” he said. “He seemed to enjoy himself today.”
“He had a wonderful time. I’ll be hearing about that horse ride for days. Probably months.”
“Rusty’s a patient old thing,” Cooper repeated what he’d assured her at the time. “Which is why some of the dude ranches around here hire him when they need additional stock for trail rides. You needn’t worry about Scott getting hurt if he stays there.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Surely your father has better things to do than babysit a nine-year-old boy.”
“Dad came up with the idea of Scott staying with him. He wouldn’t have made the offer if he hadn’t honestly enjoyed having Scott there.”
“You discussed this with your father before asking me?”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be comfortable with Mrs. MacGregor.” Lifting her hands, he put them around his neck. “So, how about boosting my ego by allowing me to escort the prettiest woman in Oregon to the Policeman’s Ball?”
“With a line like that,” she said, “how could any girl resist? And for the record, I’m going because I want to be alone with you. Chef Madeline’s only the cherry atop the cupcake.”
Smiling, Rachel lifted her lips to his.
29
The Monday after the Thanksgiving weekend, Cooper was finishing up his daily stroll of downtown when his phone buzzed. The caller I.D. read Murphy, Ryan, Dr.
“Hey,” he answered. “Thanks for getting Rachel and Scott in for their shots.”
“No problem. Are you doing anything right now?”
“I was going to turn the office over to Cal and go to Rachel’s for dinner. She’s making mac and cheese. With three different kinds of cheese. Who knew?”
“Sounds great. Do you have a few minutes to talk about her visit?”
Cooper’s blood went cold. “Is she all right?”
“She seemed fine. I suggested a physical, but she said—”
“She didn’t have the time right now.” And where had he heard that before?
Cooper hoped to hell that would be true. “Let me call her and let her know I’ll be late, and I’ll meet you at The Shady Lady in five.”
The Shady Lady was one of two bars in River’s Bend. It had previously been known as the No Name after a winter storm blew the sign away while Cooper had been in elementary school.
As further proof that the rest of the world hadn’t stopped spinning during Cooper’s deployment to Afghanistan, a movie company had hung up a weathered wooden sign declaring it The Shady Lady Saloon.
Typically after filming crews would return the storefronts to an even better condition than they’d found them, which had proven a good deal for local merchants over the years. This time the owners opted to keep the name. And the sign.
The interior had been created to match the theme and appeal to tourists with velvet couches, bordello red walls hung with framed paintings of dance hall girls and faded sepia photographs of more girls along with cowboys, outlaws, and miners. A player piano, lassos, antique spurs and six-shooters added to the western theme. As did a mechanical bull that might admittedly be an anachronism, but pulled in a lot of revenue. Especially on Friday and Saturday nights.
His brother had already taken a table in the far corner of the room when Cooper walked in. While waiting for their beers to arrive, by unspoken mutual agreement, they talked about easy things—the weather, which had finally turned autumn crisp, necessitating additional insulation in Ryan’s attic and how work on the New Chance was coming along.
“It’ll be good to have it open,” Ryan said as the waitress, dressed in jeans, a ruffled-front rodeo queen blouse and tasseled red boots delivered chilled mugs of Crater Lake Amber Ale. “At least you’re eating like a king while the rest of us are forced to subsist on microwave dinners, canned soup and sandwiches.”
“I’ll bring you a doggy bag.”
“That would be appreciated. You can get your flu shot when you do. While I’ve nothing against Cal Potter personally, I’d just as soon have you in charge of law and order, which you can’t do if you’re barfing your guts out because you couldn’t cowboy up enough to handle a needle prick.”