Cowboy in the Kitchen

by Nunn, Mae

  “I hadn’t intended to bring this up, and please don’t take it as a threat, Gillian, but I have a backup reservation out in Vegas if the worst happens.”

  Hunt’s gut twisted, but he was certain it was nothing compared to what Gillian must be experiencing.

  “Please, Rachel, don’t go with another venue. We’re prepared to give you what you’ve always dreamed of and some surprises you hadn’t even imagined for yourselves.”

  “Surprises?” Rachel perked up. “Tell me more.”

  While Gillian spoke of holiday decorations and gourmet touches, Hunt grabbed her notepad, scribbled quickly and held it up where she could see. Gillian shook her head and mouthed no, but Hunt pointed again to the note, adamant that she go along with what he’d written. She closed her eyes in a sign of surrender and then spoke again.

  “And the biggest surprise of all, Rachel, is an unexpected guest or two who will give that perfect touch of envy to everyone who’s not on your guest list. I guarantee the next day you’ll be the talk of the Lone Star State, if not the darling of the national press.”

  “How exciting and clever of you, Gillian. I hope it’s some really fabulous Texan like Willie Nelson or J. R. Ewing.”

  Hunt rolled his eyes and smiled, not at all sure the Aussie beauty was aware the Ewings were fictional characters.

  “You have my word, you won’t be disappointed. Trust me to do the job you’re paying for, as well as a little mystery for your wedding day.”

  Gillian and Hunt gave one another a thumbs-up.

  “Alrighty then, my dear. You’ve convinced me that everything is in capable hands. Do take care and follow doctor’s orders. You won’t want to be limping around during the reception when I’m introducing you to royalty from London, Hollywood and New York.”

  “Rachel, should we hire additional security? Will there truly be royalty among your guests?”

  “Only in their own minds.” Rachel laughed. “And I’m quite certain they will find your amazing little hotel as charming as Buzz and I have.”

  * * *

  “I CAN’T LET you do this, Hunt.”

  The call ended, and he’d returned to sit on the sofa.

  “It’s a bit late for that, Gilly. And besides, it was brewing in my mind before this ever happened. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t believe I could pull it off.”

  “But it’s Christmas! You can’t just call celebrity friends and expect them to drop everything and come to East Texas.”

  “That’s why I’m going to do it in person.” He checked his watch. “I can’t stay any longer.”

  “But you hate to fly, especially on a holiday.”

  “A cowboy’s gotta do what a cowboy’s gotta do,” he teased.

  “You already had this planned, didn’t you? Before we even talked, before Rachel’s call, you’d made up your mind to do this.”

  He nodded.

  “But why? You were angry with me over the well, and hurt that I hadn’t trusted you about my plans. Why would you do this for me?”

  “Because that’s what you do for the person you love.”

  He hesitated for a moment, giving her time to return the confession. But she only stared wide-eyed at him, so he continued.

  “My daddy worked long hours, but he always managed to bring home flowers for Mama. And even when she was upset with him for putting his duty to the hospital before his family, she always made sure his needs were met, and she taught us to tell him how much we appreciated him. I lost my folks far too soon, but their quiet witness of love for one another was a seed they sowed in us very early.”

  “That’s the way it should be between married people because they’re committed to the relationship, Hunt. They’re obligated to support each other. But it’s not your responsibility to get me out of a tight spot, and I don’t want you to feel bound in any way to take advantage of your personal contacts to help me out.”

  “Did you understand what I just said? Did you hear the part about duty and turn a deaf ear to the part about love?”

  He sounded frustrated, and she feared she’d screwed up any chance they had for a future together.

  Gillian held out her hand, her eyes pleading with words she wasn’t sure how to say. He didn’t hesitate. Hunt got on one knee beside her again, but this time there was no humor in his voice when he spoke.

  “What do you want, Gillian? If it’s not me, I can deal with that, but I need to know if I’m even on your short list.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “MY SHORT LIST?” A spurt of laughter erupted. “As if there’s a gaggle of suitors lined up for my attention.”

  “There might as well be with Moore House as my competition.”

  “Hunt, why does a relationship have to become a competition?”

  “It doesn’t! That’s what I’m trying to tell you, darlin’. You don’t have to choose, but you do have to ease back on the intensity of your focus. It just so happens that in this case you can have your cake and eat it, too, but you’ve got to find the time to take a bite.”

  “And I intend to do just that as soon as I—”

  “As soon as you what?” he snapped. “Complete every detail of the hotel? Work so many hours that it threatens your health? Get the rug yanked out from under you so you’re forced to stop and smell the honeysuckle?”

  She could hear his exasperation growing.

  “Talk to your parents, for crying out loud. I bet they’ll say they wish they’d been forced out years ago, because now they’re doing the things in life that are important to them.”

  “But I am doing what’s important,” she insisted.

  “Okay, do whatever you want. You will anyway.” Hunt stood but hesitated to move toward the door.

  “Are you on your way to the airport right now?”

  “No, I’m headed out to Mac’s house for dinner. I have a nine o’clock flight tomorrow morning for New York to visit one of my friends who’s made it big on TV. He’s invited me to have Christmas Eve dinner with his family. Then I’ll spend Christmas Day flying cross-country to spend some time with a chef I met on the show, who’s got several restaurants in L.A.”

  “Do you really believe they’ll do this for you?”

  He smiled.

  “I’ve known them to do crazier things for an expensive bottle of wine. They’re both great chefs, but mostly they’re cool guys who love a challenge, and this is just the sort of opportunity that gives their lives the unpredictability they love.”

  “You’ll have to tell them about Rachel and Buzz, won’t you?”

  “Yes, but they can be trusted. And they can come to town with a full staff and camera crew. They’re accustomed to being stealth, so nobody will even notice until the challenge is thrown down. I’m excited to see them again. It’s been a while.”

  “But you’ll miss the holiday, Hunt. What about your brothers?”

  “It won’t be the first Christmas we’ve spent apart. Alma’s agreed to take over in the kitchen and one less fork in the battle for the turkey’s tail means a lower risk of injury.”

  Gillian closed her eyes and leaned her head against the chaise. The throbbing in her knee intensified, made worse by the fact that the injury was her own stupid fault. And instead of a holiday with his family, Hunt was going to spend the days before and after Christmas doing the one thing he dreaded: flying from Texas to New York to California and back again. If she’d left that blasted Caddo well alone for a few days longer, she’d be having the unforgettable Christmas Eve she’d envisioned. With the man she loved. But she’d gone full speed ahead, doing whatever she wanted, just as Hunt had accused her of doing. So lousing up Christmas was all her fault, too.

  She should seize this very moment to tell Hunt what was in her heart. But then what? He’d race away, d
etermined to save the day for her, even though she didn’t deserve his help, much less his love.

  No, sending him off with a halfhearted declaration of love was unfair to both of them. What she had to say concerned their forever. It had waited this long, and it would wait a few more days.

  “Hunt, before you leave, would you mind helping me to my feet? This brace strapped to my knee is about as accommodating as a two-by-four.”

  “Sure. All you had to do was ask.”

  When had this man become so agreeable? What had happened to the know-it-all cook she’d hired to give her guests that touch of arrogance and sophistication they craved? How was it that the Cowboy Chef had climbed down off his high horse to cater to the woman who’d come between him and the legacy of his grandfather?

  As she posed these silent conundrums to herself, Hunt gently helped her to a standing position, placed a crutch beneath each arm and stepped back to give her room to navigate. She wobbled, dropped a crutch and risked pitching forward into his arms. He caught her easily, as she’d been certain he would, and then she shamelessly tipped her face to his.

  “Kiss me, Hunt.” She was desperate. “Pretty please?”

  “In that case...” His words trailed away as his mouth covered hers.

  His kiss was an extension of the puzzle she’d been mulling over in her mind. One moment Hunt’s lips were light and tender against hers, the next demanding and possessive. Gillian pulled her body as close as she dared and reveled in the joy of Hunt’s embrace. She returned his kiss, matching the hungry emotion that grew as the moments passed with the two of them at the center of the universe. She was at home in his arms, and she never wanted the feeling to end.

  * * *

  HUNT BROKE THE SPELL. He raised his head from the lips he hoped to kiss for the rest of his life. Instead of indulging again, he settled feather-soft kisses along her stubborn jaw, across the bridge of her perfect nose and beside the lids of Gillian’s stunning violet eyes.

  He leaned his head back and took in the vision of his beloved. Her cheeks were flushed pink from their intimacy, but the nearly translucent skin beneath her eyes was dark with fatigue. Even after several days of rest she was still physically and mentally worn out. And he’d added to her worry by showing up and demanding answers he already knew.

  She was a woman with a plan and she would not be deterred. Well, now he had a plan of his own and it was time to make tracks.

  He traced the apple of her cheek lightly with a knuckle. She opened her eyes, an intensity in their depths he’d never before noticed there.

  “I’m leaving town just in time.”

  “How can you say that when tomorrow is Christmas Eve?”

  “If I stayed, you wouldn’t get the rest you should have, and right now that’s critical to your knee mending, especially if you expect to wear some fancy high heels with your crutches for the wedding.”

  “Hmm, that’s a good way to show off my Louboutin pumps. One red sole turned upward, begging to be admired. There’s merit in that idea.”

  “Just promise me you’ll stick with the pain meds, let your mama take care of you and let your daddy take care of Moore House.”

  When she didn’t nod in agreement, he gave her body a little shake. “Promise me, Gillian,” Hunt demanded.

  “I promise. I suppose the least I can do is agree with you when you’re leaving town on my account just at the moment when everyone else is heading home for the holidays.”

  “Let me ask you a question, and tell me the truth.”

  She nodded but her forehead scrunched in doubt.

  “Was that a pity kiss?”

  Her head fell back, and she went nearly limp in his arms with laughter. He supported the weight of her body while she enjoyed his question.

  “Well?” He waited with a smile on his face while she halfheartedly composed herself.

  “If that was a pity kiss, then I’m the governor of Texas.”

  “I’ve met our governor and the mental image of kissing him on the lips is quite revolting. So I’m going to interpret your response to mean you didn’t kiss me just to be nice.”

  “I kiss my uncle Buck to be nice. I kissed you because I had to take advantage of the few moments we have before you leave. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Darlin’, it would be okay if you took advantage of me like that every day for the rest of our lives.”

  “Shh.” Gillian pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Let’s talk about that when you’re not checking your watch as if you have a bus to catch.”

  He pressed her palm to his lips and then folded it close to his heart. “I’d take you with me this evening if you were up to it.”

  “But I’m not, so you can’t. Go on and be with your family tonight, and I’ll see you in a few days.”

  He reached for the crutches that had fallen to the floor and handed them to her.

  “Thank you, Hunt.” She secured her balance on her support foot. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, my darlin’.” His voice clogged with pent up emotion.

  Then he turned and slipped through the door, not daring to look back.

  * * *

  “SURPRISE!” CULLEN SINGSONGED AS Hunt walked through Mac’s front door.

  “He knew we’d be here, ya big dope.” The sofa creaked as Joiner leaned to frog Cullen’s arm with the deadly knuckle punch the brothers had perfected in their youth. “With your lack of common sense, you woulda made a good Aggie.”

  Cullen rubbed his bicep. “Are you referring to that university down in College Station that regularly beat your team like a borrowed mule when you played for Texas?”

  Joiner shook his head in disgust. “You can’t give it a rest for a single day, can you?”

  “What was that game called again? The one where you chase a ball up and down the field? Was it football? No, you wouldn’t pick the game the whole state of Texas plays.” Cullen tapped his chin and pretended to be thinking. “Was it baseball? No, you wouldn’t pick a game your little brothers excelled in ’cause we’d kick your tail. What was that game called again?”

  “Marco!” McCarthy called from the kitchen.

  “Polo! That’s it! Polo! The game that left you a penniless sucker.”

  “When are you boys going to grow up?” Alma shouted above the laughter. “The last time I checked, you were all thirtysomethings.”

  Cullen and Mac hooted for the umpteenth time over the Marco Polo pun they’d been using on poor Joiner since the day he’d first picked up a mallet.

  But Hunt understood his older brother’s passion.

  He felt the same when he tied on an apron and took hold of a knife. It may not look natural on the outside but it was a perfect fit on the inside. The big difference was he’d made cooking work as a career. Joiner had gambled on a life in the high-stakes world of polo and lost just about everything.

  Hunt made the rounds of the big lake house, hugging necks and exchanging slaps on the back. This was family. This was home. This was Christmas. And no matter how exotic the location or how high the salary he could find elsewhere in the world, he was always drawn here to these people in this small town.

  “Alma, you didn’t have to cook tonight and Christmas Day.”

  “La cocina para mis marcas familiares mí feliz,” she said, reminding him she was happiest when she was cooking for her family.

  “And we’re all grateful to be on the receiving end of your good cheer.”

  He showed his appreciation by taking the carving knife from Mac and doing what he could to hide the damage his oldest brother had done turning a perfectly roasted bird into a sacrificial turkey.

  “I would never pass up the chance to feed my boys. Someday, si el Señor bueno lo hace tan, you will have wives of your own, and you won’t ne
ed old Alma.”

  “That could happen much sooner than you think, Alma.” Cullen draped an arm around his twin.

  Hunt cut his eyes toward Cullen, a clear message to keep his mouth shut.

  “It’s no use, little bro,” Mac drawled. “We were all watching you two at my party, and even though it took a few PhDs for Cullen to catch on, we could see for ourselves how smitten you are with the lovely Miss Moore.”

  “Smitten won’t cover it. He looked at her as if he wanted to sop her up with a biscuit,” Joiner teased.

  “Will you guys give it a rest, please? I didn’t drive out here for a dose of abuse, especially since I’m about to get a healthy ration from my friends on each coast.”

  “Help Felix get the meal on the table, and while we eat, you can tell us all about your plans.” Alma gave orders, all five men did as they were told and nobody got hurt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “MERRY CHRISTMAS, BEAUTIFUL.”

  “Good morning!” Gillian’s pulse raced at the sound of Hunt’s voice on the phone. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at JKF, sitting in a coffee shop out on the concourse, waiting for my 767 to show up.”

  She glanced toward the mantel clock. Just before 9:00 a.m.

  “When does your flight leave?”

  “Half an hour ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She grimaced at the idea of Hunt being stuck in an impersonal airport on the most important family holiday of all. “What a lousy way to spend Christmas morning.”

  “It’s not so bad. Everybody’s in a pleasant mood, which is pretty unusual for an airport. There’s music and decorations, and people giving out samples of fruitcake and potato latkes. Not exactly gourmet fare, but they’re free and come with a smile, so I’ve accepted them and said, ‘Thank you very kindly,’ just like my mama taught me.”

  “You have a great attitude for a guy who’s missing out on the festivities at home.”

  “Well, I spent last evening in Manhattan with my friend Robby and his family. He was so gracious to invite me to join them for dinner. I should have realized it was a setup.”