Rescuing Harmony Ranch

by Jennie Marts

  “Yeah. Buster Kegan was on the judging panel for those, and he was bragging about how there wasn’t a chili hot enough for him, so he was taking huge bites of each sample. But I guess one of the contestants used a ghost pepper in their “Burn Down the Barn Chili” entry, and he took several bites before it really kicked in. Sweat was pouring off his face, and he was swearing and hollering for somebody to get him some milk. He was fine a couple of minutes later. But it was awful and hilarious at the same time.”

  Mack chuckled. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

  “You also missed the Molly Stone “Dodge and Duck Show” as Gram tried to watch the cook-off while evading Loretta. Every time I looked up, the two of them had changed places in the room as your grandma chased mine around trying to catch her—no doubt to try to convince her to rest.”

  “I can imagine they’ll both need a lie-down after that game.”

  Mack’s grandpa stepped out of the back room and held up his hand for attention. He tapped the top of the microphone he was holding and patted the air with his hand in an effort to quiet the room.

  “The results are in. It’s been a whopper of a contest, and you all are in for a culinary adventure with this array of chili masterpieces.”

  “Wow. Grandpa’s laying it on a little thick,” Mack whispered to Jocelyn. “But the audience seems to be eating it up.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Seems he’s not the only Talbot with a skill for corny jokes.”

  Mack shrugged with modesty. “We’re a pretty talented bunch.”

  To much applause and some lighthearted booing, his grandfather announced the winners of each individual category, then gave a dramatic drum roll as he motioned for Loretta to hold up the cook-off grand prize “trophies,” which were mounted wooden spoons that had been dipped in gold glitter. “And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for—the grand prize winners. In third place, for a trophy and a gift card for a free haircut at the Harmony Creek House of Hair, the award goes to Frank Ferguson’s ‘Four Alarm Firehouse Chili’ from Woodland Hills.”

  Mack’s grandmother passed Frank his prize as Hank announced the next winner. “In second place, for a trophy and a fifty-dollar gift card to the Hole-In-the-Wall Café, the award goes to ‘Lonnie’s Legal Lip Remover’ from Harmony Creek.”

  The audience went wild, clapping and cheering as Lonnie Schultz sprang from her seat, shrieking and whooping like she’d won the lottery.

  “That makes one winner from Harmony Creek and one from Woodland Hills.” Mack leaned toward Jocelyn to be heard over the chaos in the room. “Cross your fingers we get the next one. Otherwise, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  His grandfather held up his hands to calm the room again. “And the grand prize, for a trophy, a hundred dollars cash, and bragging rights until the next cook-off, the winner of this year’s Harmony Creek Hoopla Chili Cook-off is….” He paused for dramatic effect. “‘Chili, Chili, Bang, Bang’ by Daryl Pitts from Woodland Hills.”

  Mack dropped his chin to his chest. Dang it. He shook his head at Jocelyn, who looked as disappointed as he felt. He leaned closer to whisper, “I’m real glad we’re making a bunch of cash on this cook-off, but my competitive streak was still hoping Harmony Creek would win.”

  “Mine too,” Jocelyn whispered back.

  Meanwhile, Daryl was going crazy as he ran to the front of the room and snatched his trophy from Loretta. He hooted in victory as he held the glittery spoon over his head.

  “Wait!” a woman called as she came running out of the kitchen, several tin cans clutched in her hands. “I think Daryl should be disqualified! I found these in a trash bag in the bed of his truck. Six cans of Hormel Angus Beef Sweet and Spicy Chili. And nothing else. So it sure looks to me like he just poured cans of premade chili into his crockpot. So, who’s the real winner, Daryl or Hormel?” She punctuated the air with a jab of one of the cans.

  “Who’s that?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Glenda Summers,” Mack told her. “She thinks the contest should be more natural and canned goods shouldn’t even be allowed as an ingredient.”

  Several people in the front of the room booed and called for Daryl’s disqualification. Mack’s grandfather motioned for them to hush. “Now Daryl, these are some mighty big allegations Glenda is accusing you of,” he said. “What do you have to say for yourself? Does your entry have any other ingredients besides cans of prepared Hormel?”

  Daryl raised his chin and puffed out his chest. “Yeah. Of course it does. It has four other ingredients.”

  Glenda slammed the cans down on the table. “Salt and pepper don’t count. I demand Daryl and his bogus chili recipe be disqualified and eliminated from the contest.”

  Daryl squinted his eyes, scanning the room as if judging how much support he was going to get from the crowd. Guessing from the number of boos and taunts, it didn’t sound like much. “Fine. Whatever. I withdraw my entry. This contest is stupid, anyway.” He stomped out of the building.

  Glenda crossed her arms and stared triumphantly after him. “There’s no place for that kind of attitude in this contest,” she called after him.

  “All right, Glenda. Simmer down. You’ve had your say,” Mack’s grandfather told her as he picked up the spoon trophy. He dusted it off and held it up. “I guess now that Daryl is out, ‘Lonnie’s Legal Lip Remover’ will take the grand prize, ‘Frank’s Four Alarm Firehouse Chili’ will take second place, and Troy Deever’s ‘Big Troy’s Toe-Curling Chili’ will move into third. Congratulations to all the winners. Now if you all want to form an orderly line against the south wall, Loretta can take your money, and we’ll start serving you up some of this delicious chili.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes sparkled, and she held up her hand as she turned back to Mack. “Yes. Harmony Creek won. Another victory for the Hoopla.”

  Mack slapped her hand in a high five. “Now let’s just hope we sell every bite of the stuff.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jocelyn stepped out onto the porch as Mack approached the house an hour later, and his heart practically stopped in his chest. She was so beautiful.

  More beautiful than ever. Older, a little curvier than she’d been as a teenager, with the same gorgeous smile, the same hair color, the same spark of mischief in her eyes.

  Another thing which hadn’t changed was the way she made him feel. Just looking at her still had his heart racing and his palms sweating. She might have the curves and grace of a woman, but he still felt like a gawky teenager who had a crush on the pretty girl next door.

  Was that what he was feeling now? Those old sparks from his teenage crush?

  He only wished that were the case. A crush he could get over. What he felt for Jocelyn Stone was so much more. She was the first girl he’d ever fallen in love with, the first girl he’d truly given his heart to. And it still belonged to her. Even after all these years.

  For just a second, he remembered how she’d looked a couple of days ago, standing by the railing, gazing out over the ranch, a pensive expression on her face, as if so many decisions rested on her shoulders. He wondered what she was thinking now. What thoughts lay behind that wistful look? The health of her grandmother? Her job in the city? Him?

  He hoped it was him. Then he wouldn’t be the only one whose brain was stuck in overdrive thinking about the two of them being together again.

  She was probably thinking more about how much money the festival was generating and if they had a chance to save her grandmother’s beloved ranch. Those thoughts had been on his mind today, too.

  What would he do if the bank took the ranch? Would someone else buy it and let him stay on as caretaker? Or would someone just want the land and get rid of the living history museum altogether?

  He shook his head. He couldn’t go there. Not tonight. Tonight was for the festival, and he just wanted to focus on walking this gorgeous woman to the dance
.

  There had been a bit of a lull between the time when the chili cook-off ended and the dance began, so Jocelyn had convinced Molly to go back to the house with her to freshen up and change. Or at least that was the excuse she’d used. It probably had more to do with getting Molly to rest for a few minutes.

  He and Jocelyn had said they’d meet later at the dance, but somehow he found himself outside her house, hoping he’d catch her so they could walk over to the barn together.

  He raised a hand in greeting. “Hey there.”

  “Hey yourself,” she said, offering him a smile. She’d changed into a different period dress, this one a deep cranberry color with a high waist and a bit of an open neckline. A dark velvet ribbon strung with a cameo brooch was tied around her neck. She no longer wore the hat, but had instead pulled most of her hair up into some kind of knot at the back of her head.

  Stopping at the bottom step of the porch, he leaned his arm on the railing as he gazed up at her. “You look really pretty.”

  She ducked her head, and he loved the way the slight tinge of pink colored her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said as she walked down the steps. “You look pretty good yourself. But not as handsome as this guy.” Oblivious to the dust settling on the hem of her dress, she crouched down to ruffle the floppy skin around Savage’s neck.

  Mack peered down at the mutt. “I hadn’t realized he followed me from the cottage. And now I’m thinking I should have told him to stay there if I’d known he was gonna upstage me in the handsome department. Thanks, pal.”

  The dog tilted his head, looking up at him with sad eyes as if to say he was sorry. Except that’s what his eyes always looked like, even if he was overcome with happiness, so Mack wasn’t falling for it.

  Something caught the dog’s attention, and Savage jerked his head to the side to watch Pepper, one of the ranch’s cats, walk across Molly’s porch and perch on the top step. She peered down at Savage with disdain as she slowly licked her paw.

  “Uh oh,” Mack said. “You’d better stand back. These two have a history. You’re about to see just why Savage earned his name.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes widened, but before she had a chance to reply, the cat sauntered down the stairs, flicked her tail at the dog, then took off across the yard.

  Savage gave chase, loping after the cat, his big jowls rising and lowering with each step. His giant ears flopped, intermittently whacking him across the eyes and flying out to the side like he was about to ascend in flight. He let out a low woof as his short legs carried him across the grass—for about twelve feet. Then he stopped and flopped down on his stomach, his legs splayed out as if he’d just run a marathon and couldn’t make it another step.

  The cat meandered back toward the dog, circling around him once, then settling next to his head and bending to lick his ears.

  “Poor Savage,” Jocelyn said, laughing, as they watched the dog roll over to his back and stretch out his neck to let the cat rub her head against it. “That’s quite a name to try to live up to.”

  “You can see he’s a lover, not a fighter.”

  “Not much of a runner, either.”

  Mack shrugged. “Really, why run, when you can lie down instead?”

  She let out another laugh. The sound filled an empty spot in his chest—a spot that had been waiting for her for the last decade.

  He said, “I think I’ll let him stay here while we head to the dance. If you’re ready.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’m good to go.”

  “Did you ever convince Molly to take a nap?”

  “No. But I talked her into lying down and then heard her snoring when I checked on her a few minutes later. I left her a note to tell her I was heading to the dance and delicately suggested she take it easy and stay in tonight.”

  He grinned. “I’ve got five dollars that says she shows up anyway.”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “That’s too easy a bet. How about that she shows up within thirty minutes of the band starting to play?”

  “I’ll bet fifteen.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Bonus five if she gets out on the dance floor with the knee scooter.”

  Jocelyn laughed. “I’m taking that bet because I can’t refuse a wager with you. But I have a feeling I should just hand over my twenty dollars now.”

  They laughed as they walked toward the barn. Mack was conscious of every time the backs of their hands brushed. They stopped to let a mother duck and her four ducklings waddle across the path in front of them on their way to the pond.

  “They’re so sweet,” Jocelyn said, her shoulder touching his as they waited. He twisted his pinkie around hers…and then she interlocked her fingers with his.

  He couldn’t believe they were holding hands as they walked to the dance together. If there had been a longer route to the barn, he would’ve suggested taking it. Instead, they too quickly arrived at the dance, and within seconds their hands dropped as they were swallowed into the excitement of the crowd and carried into the barn.

  “I’ll find you later,” Jocelyn called as one of the volunteers pounced on her with a problem with one of the credit card machines.

  “Mack, I’m glad you’re here,” his grandfather said as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to give me a hand with the amplifier.”

  Jocelyn had to laugh when she spotted her grandmother roll through the barn doors within minutes of the band’s starting up. She knew she shouldn’t have taken that bet. But she’d never been able to resist a wager with Mack. Heck, she’d never been able to resist Mack, period. And it seemed she still couldn’t.

  She searched the crowded room and spotted him across the dance floor. He was caught in a conversation between Lonnie Schultz and Frank Ferguson, probably still bickering about the chili cook-off.

  As if he could feel the pull of her stare, he glanced up and caught her eye. His lips curved into a roguish grin, a grin meant just for her, and her heart practically fell out of her chest.

  Then Sophie scurried up to him, and he bent for her to speak closer to his ear. The room was noisy, but the intimate ease they had with each other still sent a sharp pain through Jocelyn’s heart.

  Jocelyn had to turn away as the two of them hurried off together, toward whatever crisis had made Sophie hasten to him in the first place. She fought against the hard pangs of jealousy ricocheting through her chest. She had no claim to Mack and no right to be jealous. Sophie had been here for years. She’d worked with Mack on a weekly basis. And even though Mack had said he wasn’t interested in her, that could change at any time. He’d fallen for a hometown girl before. It was obvious to anyone how suited those two were for each other.

  This thing, whatever she and Mack were doing, was temporary. Yes, it was great to be spending time with him again, to sneak in a few hugs and revel in the feel of being in his arms again. It had felt so easy, so right, to slip her hand into his as they’d walked over here.

  Although he’d dropped her hand pretty quickly when they’d gotten inside the barn. Was that because there were so many people around and he was trying to protect her from town gossip? Or was he protecting himself? Was he embarrassed for people to see them together again after she’d broken his heart before? Her heart had been broken, too. And he was the one who’d taken up with someone else.

  She’d dreamt so many times about having a second chance with Mack Talbot. But that’s all this was—a dream. A fantasy. Because if she were being honest with herself, she would have to admit that she knew this was all temporary, a short break from her actual life. She was only here for a few more days, another week at best. Then what would happen? The same thing as before? They’d lose touch and he’d find someone else?

  She wasn’t sure she could go through that again. Not after finally being with him again. But she was the one who was leaving. And Sophie was staying. Sweet, kind, pretty
Sophie. Mack could do a lot worse. And Hank and Loretta already loved her. Plus Hank loved her fried chicken, so that was something, too.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Her grandmother’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You look a million miles away.” Gram wheeled up to her, the crowd of people parting for the knee scooter to pass like the waves of the Red Sea.

  Jocelyn forced a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just wool-gathering,” she said, using one of Gram’s favorite sayings.

  “Well, come back to the present, because I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong? Does your leg hurt? Do you want to go back to the house and lie down?”

  “No, I’m not in pain. Well, at least not from my leg. But it’s killing me to not be able to dance. I think I could manage it if the dance floor weren’t so crowded.” She wheeled the knee scooter back and forth as she gave her hips a little wiggle. “I think Midge is up for it.”

  “No way. You are sittin’ this one out. And be thankful the dance floor is so crowded. Just imagine all those dancers as dollar signs. The more people boogie-ing, the more money is going into the bank.”

  “Good point. And it’s probably a blessing that I can’t dance tonight anyway.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because Emmet Scott has already asked me twice if I thought I could manage it. The man is a complete paradox—last week he acted like we’re enemies, tonight he’s asking me to dance. He changed his tone with me after I complimented his shirt this afternoon at the chili cook-off, as if I was flirting with him. All I said was that it was a good color for him, and he’s acting like that was somehow a pickup line.”

  “As if.”

  “Right? I mean, give me some credit. We were at a chili cook-off, for goodness’ sakes. The opportunities were endless, if that’s what I’d been trying to do.” She planted a hand on her hip and affected a coy tone. “‘The chili around here isn’t all that’s hot. Although your chili must be spicy, because you’re making my heart burn.’”