Cowboy in the Kitchen

by Nunn, Mae

  “What makes you so confident?”

  “Things weren’t so different between your father and me at your age. We played cat and mouse but we knew what we wanted. And you know, too. Just give your heart time and wait for Hunt to declare himself. Trust your mother in this. It’ll be a piece of cake for him to speak his heart when the right moment comes.”

  * * *

  “MISS GILLIAN, ARE YOU absolutely sure these are the plans you want to follow for phase two? What you’re tearing down and covering over has pretty significant value to some people. Hunt’s gonna have a runaway when he finds out.”

  “It can’t be helped, Karl,” Gillian explained.

  Karl’s crew had done such a great job that she’d contracted Hunt’s old friend again to enclose the courtyard of the mansion and install a luxurious spa.

  “I’m not going to have a dry-water well in the middle of my hotel just because it’s supposed to have mystical value. That thing is dangerous, and it stinks.”

  “But if you’ll let me get an architect on it, there might be a creative way to save it, if you know what I mean.”

  “Karl, I appreciate your concern. But I’m the property owner and that gives me the final word on the land, including that hole in the ground.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s correct. You have the last say. But there’s folklore tied to that old well, and Pap Temple intentionally built around it because he respected those tales, though they were a bit tall even by Texas standards.”

  “Exactly. There’s no shortage of tall tales and big fish stories around here. One less pinpoint on the map for speculation won’t hurt anything.”

  “But still, when certain people find out...”

  “Are you going to be the one to break the news to certain people that I plan to build over that eyesore, Karl?”

  “No, ma’am.” He shook his head emphatically. “When I took this job, I made a commitment to you and the men on my payroll. If you want those rocks torn down and that old hole in the ground filled with cement, that’s what we’ll do. I just want to make sure you’re aware it will wipe away sentimental as well as hocus-pocus attachments. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Hunt about this first?”

  “Thanks, but no.” She closed the subject with a shake of her head. Her mind was made up. “I appreciate being able to count on you, Karl. The work you’ve done so far has been first-rate, and that’s exactly what I expect for the spa and salon. Those amenities will bring even more jobs and commerce into town. Within fifteen minutes of opening those doors, nobody will remember that well ever existed.”

  “Have it your way, Miss Gillian.”

  “Have you heard from the city on the new permits?”

  “Not yet, but we put them in plenty early this go-around so we should be approved to start extending the roof by mid-January. Your new spa should be open by the end of February.”

  “That sounds perfect, Karl. We have a private party planned for the weekend just before New Year’s, and general reservations open up on January first. You should be able to get the work done on the new space without too much inconvenience to our guests.”

  “We’ll keep the construction to daylight hours on weekdays, just as you and I discussed.” He glanced at his wristwatch and settled his Stetson on his head. “If there’s nothing else, I should be on my way.”

  “Karl, there is one thing.” She put a hand on his forearm. “As soon as the permit is issued, I expect you to get a couple of men over here to take care of that well. Let’s keep it quiet, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You want that well gone before anybody hears about your plans and tries to throw a monkey wrench in your works.”

  “That’s one way to interpret it.”

  “I guarantee you that’s how my buddy Hunt’s gonna interpret it, but we’ve already been down that road.” Karl touched the brim of his hat to show his respect and headed for his pickup.

  * * *

  “I’M ITCHING TO get a full crew in here so we can service a packed dining room,” Hunt enthused. Gillian stood beside him at the kitchen countertop as they admired the hanging pot rack he’d just installed.

  Even though there were no meals to prepare, he’d come over daily to arrange his supplies in just the proper place, tweaking his setup as he became familiar with the storage bins in the prep stations. He also preferred to interview and meet with the staff in close quarters to get a feel for how they’d interact in his kitchen.

  His kitchen. There it was again. He had to keep reminding himself it wasn’t his kitchen.

  “Isn’t it driving you nuts to see your suites upstairs sitting empty?” He focused on Gillian to get his mind off selfish thoughts.

  “It sure is, but that was part of the contract we signed with Rachel and Buzz. It’s important to them to be the first to rent the entire estate so there’s absolutely no chance they’ll be accused of ripping off what someone else has already done.”

  “Isn’t it amazing and sorta sad how people with that kind of money have to plot and scheme their every move?”

  “Oh, it is, Hunt. It truly is.” Gillian’s voice was flooded with exaggerated compassion. “It depresses me so much I can hardly sleep at night. I toss and turn over my concern that poor Rachel can easily afford to rent my place for weeks just to one-up her neighbors.”

  Hunt examined Gillian closely to see if she was making fun of him. But when she spewed out laughter, he couldn’t help but join her. It was a silly moment they both needed, and they fell against one another, elbows on the granite counter, laughing until their sides hurt. Gillian stopped to catch her breath and rub the tears from the outer corners of her eyes. Her silky blond hair was caught up in a stretchy thing, and her ponytail bobbed above the round neck of a chocolate-colored sweater. He brushed two fingers across her forehead where her bangs had settled on damp, dark lashes.

  “You were stunning in that red satin at Mac’s, but today you are even more beautiful.”

  The amusement that had been on her face slipped away, a serious expression replacing the smile. “That’s a very kind thing for you to say, Hunt.”

  He slid his hand across the smooth skin at her nape, lightly cupped her neck and pulled her face close to his own.

  “It wasn’t meant to be kind.”

  “Then what was it meant to be?” she asked, her full lips so very close.

  “A compliment for...” The words stuck in his throat.

  “...for the boss lady?” Gillian tried to spoil the moment, but he wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “For the woman who has captured my heart.”

  He realized with a start that capture was exactly the right word. So that’s what Hunt did to Gillian’s mouth before she had the chance to get logical on him and pull away.

  He held one hand at her neck and smoothed the other down her spine to settle at her waist, then he pulled her close to his chest. Hunt couldn’t get enough of the softness of her skin and the sound of her sighs matching his own. This nearness, this oneness with a woman he loved was a sensation he’d never dared to imagine. He was getting a glimpse into what his married friends meant when they talked about wanting to be with one person for the rest of their lives.

  The rest of their lives?

  Hunt dragged his lips from Gillian’s, settled a soft kiss at her temple and held her quietly while he waited for the thumping of his heart to slow.

  The rest of their lives?

  It was a sobering consideration for the Cowboy Chef who enjoyed his gallivanting lifestyle and unsettled ways. He’d always been decisive about his career, and where he wanted to hone and practice his skills.

  But how could he give up his freedom and his future for the sake of a dream that was Gillian’s? How could he not?

  “Hunt, I don’t believe
we’re ready to have this conversation,” she whispered against his chest.

  Not letting either of them dwell on the emotional moment, he broke the silence. “You’re right, and I have an idea.”

  It was up to him to to get them both out of this very private environment before they said and did things they might regret.

  “Your folks were smart to take advantage of this beautiful day and an empty hotel to get out and have some fun. Let’s drive over to Longview and shop for Christmas gifts. There are only a few days left, and there’s not a single real gift beneath your tree.”

  They’d decorated a huge spruce in the entry for the press event but the colorfully wrapped boxes were empty, all for show.

  “I’d love to do some shopping! I want to get something special for my folks to thank them for their help. Do you exchange gifts with your brothers?”

  “We do, but our presents for each other always seem to have stupid jokes associated with them. Not so with our gifts for Alma and Felix, though. There’s a pretty stiff competition in that category.”

  “Well, since your brothers don’t have the help of a lifelong female shopper, I can safely say you’ll win the gift wars this year. Let me grab my coat.”

  He watched Gillian leave the room, and as she put even that brief distance between the two of them, he began to ache for her return.

  Yes siree, Bob. The Cowboy Chef’s unattached status is in a heap of trouble.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE MALL WAS packed with holiday shoppers, so Hunt opted for a string of independently owned boutiques instead. He offered to drop Gillian at the sidewalk, but she insisted on traipsing through the maze of parked cars with him. He took her hand and tugged her close as they crossed a busy street. She returned the tight squeeze of his hand and gave him a wink, leaving Hunt to wonder whether it was his touch or Christmas bargains that had her grinning with excitement.

  “I hear these shops carry merchandise so trendy that you can’t even find them at the big retail stores. We should be able to get something great for Alma and maybe even some one-of-a-kind gift items for our spa shop.”

  “But why would you buy merchandise now when you’re not going to start the construction on your spa for months?”

  For some reason, Gillian was caught off guard by the question, and she stumbled.

  She pitched forward and landed hard on one knee. Hunt was glad he’d had a firm hold on her left hand or else she might have gone down face-first into the brick pavers. He squatted close to check her for injuries while she glanced about.

  “Please tell me nobody saw that,” she begged.

  “No such luck,” he teased to cover his concern. “But you were smart to fall among the Audis and Jags, so only a few extremely wealthy shoppers would spot your fall. Way to minimize your embarrassment.”

  “Help me up.” She swatted away his hands as he tried to straighten her leg. “I must look like a fool down here.”

  “Why don’t you sit still for a minute and let me call an ambulance?”

  “An ambulance?” Gillian squeaked. “You can’t be serious. I just want to get up and walk it off.”

  But when she tried to push to her feet, the injured knee collapsed beneath her. He was sure she’d have bit through her lip before she cried, but Gillian’s grimace assured him the pain was severe.

  “You’re obviously not going to simply walk this off. If you won’t let me call an ambulance, will you at least let me carry you back to the Jeep?”

  As he wrapped her in his arms, her lovely eyes flew wide and alarm creased the smooth skin between her brows.

  “What? Are you opposed to somebody mistaking me carrying you in my arms for a public display of affection?”

  “No, I’m opposed to missing our shopping trip.” She pouted, and Hunt sunk more deeply in love with her.

  “Now I’m sure you’re not badly hurt.” He scooped Gillian close and held her tightly as he stood. “But just to be safe we’re going to make a stop by the medical center for an X-ray of that knee. They’ll give you something for the pain.”

  “Hunt, it’s Saturday. We’ll have to wait for hours.”

  “Maybe not. Daddy was chief of surgery when our parents were killed. It was a lot of years ago, but my brothers and I still get treated like family by the medical staff. I’ll be shocked if there isn’t at least one person in there who calls me Doc Temple’s youngest boy and not the Cowboy Chef.”

  * * *

  HER KNEE WAS throbbing so badly that Gillian had lost any inclination to argue against going to the E.R. At this point she was just silently hoping there were no ligament tears or bone breaks. And to add insult to injury, the fall had been entirely her fault.

  She’d stumbled at Hunt’s mention of the time line for building the spa. At least he was none the wiser as to the reason for her clumsy reaction. Guilty reaction, to be truthful. She couldn’t help feeling that she was betraying him by keeping her plans from him. But she’d confess everything once the well was gone, and it wouldn’t be the big deal Karl expected.

  Hunt would be okay with it.

  Yeah, right.

  The woman in the E.R. admissions office greeted Hunt with a motherly hug. Gillian was wheeled toward the X-ray department within the hour. And within another hour she’d been discharged with her leg in a gosh-awful gray knee brace and a pair of crutches.

  “This is not exactly the pop of color I was hoping to pair with my secondhand Jimmy Choo pumps on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Just be thankful your knee is encased in Velcro and not plaster.” Hunt lifted Gillian, settled her into the Wrangler’s passenger’s seat and handed the safety belt across her lap.

  “Oh, I am,” she insisted as she tightened the belt. “From what the orthopedic surgeon said, it could have been much worse, so it’s minor in the big picture. Still, this is a setback I could do without. How am I ever going to manage?”

  Hunt climbed behind the wheel and waved away her melodrama. “That brace may slow you down a bit, but that’s probably a good thing.”

  “How can you say that? You know who’s about to descend on Kilgore and how much is at stake. Everything’s got to go perfectly, and I can’t imagine how that’s going to happen with me in this straitjacket.”

  There were a myriad of decorative displays and personal touches still to be added to the hotel. At least three pages in her notebook were filled with important bullet points still to be checked off, and a call with Rachel was scheduled for Monday to discuss the ceremony.

  “You’ve been reminding me all morning how much help your parents have been. They’ll stand in wherever they have to, and I’m available to do the same. Between us and the staff we’ve hired, all the details will get covered, and the wedding will go off without a hitch. As soon as we get you home, you can start making each of us a list of chores, and we’ll get right on them.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Though her brain was already foggy from pain medication, she began to churn through a mental to-do list. “There are thousands of white lights that have to be strung about the grounds and hung from the trees, the perfect project for Dad and Felix. Mom will be happy to help Alma with the petit fours we’d planned to bake and freeze.”

  She leveled a sheepish look his way.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask if you’d take over the menu discussions with Rachel. I wanted to keep my hand in it, but that’s your bailiwick. I should probably get out of the way and let a professional finish the job. Would you mind?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t mind.” He sounded relieved, as if he’d feared she’d never come to that conclusion.

  “I’ve already shared my notes with you, but she’s supposed to call on Monday, and I’m not sure how much good I’ll be once the drugs kick in.”

  “N
o problem. I’ll take the call on speakerphone so you can hear the whole thing and still be informed. You won’t have any issues directing those projects from your rooms on the second floor for a few days,” he assured her.

  “Thank goodness for the elevator or I’d have to move into the laundry room downstairs.”

  “Cullen’s also got two more guest rooms at his place. I’m sure we could relocate some boxes of books to make a comfortable spot for you, if necessary.”

  She reached across the space between them to rest her hand on his shoulder and was reminded once again that the man beneath the jacket was solid, dependable and oh-so masculine.

  “You’ve been too good to me, Hunt. How can I show my appreciation?”

  “You’ve already shown me in a dozen ways.” He put his left palm atop her hand and gave it a firm squeeze before placing it back on the steering wheel.

  “Really?” She exaggerated the one-word question. “How so?”

  He smiled, his eyes wide in amusement at her shameless request for an attagirl.

  “Not that I’m fishing for kudos,” she feigned innocence.

  “Neither of us ever would.” He returned her insistence with a shake of his head. “Well, let me see. First there’s the way you’ve brought Alma and Felix into your business, and then how you’ve treated my brothers as if they’re old friends. Next there’s the fact that you’ve given me complete control of the kitchen and my own staff.”

  She was surprised by that last comment. “Didn’t you expect that I’d do that, Hunt?”

  “Not at first, no. You were pretty adamant about calling all the shots, but then most owners are, even when they hire an accomplished chef to run the show. I figured for sure we’d knock heads a lot during the build out, but you surprised me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Hunt. But it was you who showed me I had to take a step away and let my experts do the job I’d hired them to do. Otherwise I might have been in this knee brace even sooner.”