Then again, what was the rush to go home?
Nick came into her tent. “Where do you want these?”
Sam bent over to open the cooler. Looking back over her shoulder, she caught him staring at her backside and heat coursed through her. Damn, she had it bad.
“In here,” she squeaked out.
Nick raised a brow and dropped the onions inside, then tipped his hat and backed out of the booth. “Good luck today.”
“You, too.” Sam watched him walk back to his tent then turned before he could catch her watching. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sweep the raffle jar off the table and into the trash. It looked like Nick was going to honor their truce as well.
She set the ground hamburger to cooking and got out her spice canisters, organizing them on the table before she started chopping the onions. It was too early for customers, but all of the contestants cooked the chili fresh each morning and she liked to simmer hers for at least an hour. The row was quiet except for the sizzle of browned meat and the chopping of vegetables. Even Beulah was quiet down in her booth, cutting up hot peppers for the day.
Across the way, Nick was in his tent doing the same but in a less organized manner, rummaging through cans and foraging around in his booth. It took him so much longer to find his ingredients. Sam itched to go over and help him but then reminded herself that it wouldn’t be wise. Nick was her competition—though suddenly she found her competitive spirit had been dampened. She wasn’t as keen to win the contest and snatch the ten thousand dollar prize from him as she’d been yesterday.
The relative silence was shattered by the squeal of Amy. Running down the aisle in a blur of pink and purple, she careened into Nick’s tent.
“Uncle Nick! I’m going to ride Nacho today!”
Rena wasn’t far behind. She stopped in the aisle, a smile on her face as she watched the excitement bubble out of Amy. She turned to Sam. “I don’t know where she gets the energy.”
“Wish you could bottle it up. I could use some.” Sam swiped at her damp forehead.
Rena’s gaze swept past her into her booth. “Boy, you really are organized.”
“My parents are both in the military, so being organized was drilled into me since before birth. It was all military corners on the beds in clothes precisely folded in drawers.”
“Beulah mentioned that she thought getting more organized could help The Chuckwagon. Maybe you…” Rena’s voice trailed off, and Sam squirmed. Why did everyone want her to lend a hand at The Chuckwagon?
Everyone except Nick.
“Yeah, that’s what she said, but it seems like you aren’t hiring, and I’m going back to Boston and starting my own restaurant anyway.”
Rena nodded, her eyes drifting from Sam and then over to Nick’s tent where Amy was still jumping up and down gleefully. Following her gaze, Sam couldn’t help but smile. Nick seemed just as excited as his niece.
The light in Rena’s eyes faded, and her face pinched. “I sure would hate to see the restaurant go under. Nick’s tried really hard, and I don’t know what to do to help. I don’t know a thing about the restaurant business. My parents never taught me anything, and I was married young and…well, I was busy with Amy. Now my parents are gone, our family finances are a mess, and I can’t even help out.”
Sam’s heart twisted for Rena. She didn’t know what it was like to feel helpless. She’d always taken control of every situation and paved her own way. “Well, if I could help I would. Maybe I could just come over and take a look at things.”
Why had she suggested that?
The brightened look on Rena’s face squelched any regrets. “Would you? Night after tomorrow would be great. I don’t have to work so I’d be there to show you around.” She glanced back over at Nick. “I don’t know why Nick’s spending so much time at this contest when he should be looking over the restaurant books himself.”
Sam didn’t say anything. Apparently, Rena hadn’t figured out that Nick probably needed the money for the restaurant. She didn’t want to be the one to enlighten her, and she was only speculating anyway. But judging by what she’d heard, they needed money bad.
Amy ran over and saved Sam from having to comment. She clung to Rena’s leg. “Can we go now, Mommy?” She looked at Sam. Her eyes bright and sparkling. “I’m gonna ride a horse today.”
“Tessa had an opening, so she texted me and were going to go for a little ride,” Rena explained.
Sam squatted down to Amy’s level. “Well, you have a fun time.”
“I will!” Amy grabbed Rena’s hand and tugged her out of the booth. She waved to Nick and then to Sam as her daughter pulled her down the aisle.
Sam’s gaze drifted from Rena and Amy to Nick. Their eyes locked. For a second, she forgot they were in the middle of the fairgrounds and almost ran over there and jumped into his arms. Then reality crashed in. She tore her eyes from his smoldering gaze and got back to work.
Dammit. Why did she have to be attracted to someone who lived a million miles away? Could there ever be something between her and Nick if she stayed? Maybe it was worth it to start something up, just to get him out of her system so she wouldn’t be distracted by thoughts of him when she went back to Boston. She’d need to have a clear head and put all her focus into her new restaurant, not moon over some cowboy that was halfway across the country. Then again, she had a feeling that once she got a taste of Nick Bradford, there would be no getting him out of her system.
Her eyes moved over to the score board again. If she didn’t get cooking chili, she wouldn’t have any money to start a restaurant in the first place. As she focused back on her work, her thoughts turned to her conversation with Rena.
Had she really just committed herself to looking at The Chuckwagon’s processes? Would Nick be mad? He hadn’t seemed that keen on it yesterday, but what did it matter? She could tell Rena was terribly worried about it, and if she could help a single mom and her child, then she was going to do it. And if that made Nick mad, then so be it.
9
Nothing went right for Sam for the rest of the day. First, she dropped scrambled hamburger on the ground, then one of her crockpots stopped working, and then she spilled chili all over herself. There was only one high point in the day. Beulah stopped by to sample her chili again. Sam had gotten more ghost peppers at Dickinson’s, and Beulah gave it her seal of approval, favoring Sam with a wink before swaggering back to her own booth.
By the end of the day, she was covered in chili, dripping in sweat and desperate for a drink. Tessa had texted to say their plans for a horseback ride had to be postponed to the next night. Sam was glad. There was no telling what might go wrong if she tried to get on the back of a horse.
She cleaned up her tent and practically ran out of the fair. At Tessa’s, she showered, threw on a white tee-shirt, a denim skirt—but longer this time than the one she’d borrowed the other day—and a pair of Tessa’s red and white cowboy boots. Then she hopped back in her car and headed to The Bull Sheep Bar.
It was early, and the nightly crowd had not yet descended which was fine with Sam. The music was low. No band tonight, just the jukebox. A few couples sat at various tables and a loud, rowdy bunch of cowboys occupied a booth in the back.
She’d taken a seat at the bar far away from everyone else, preferring to be alone right now until she could drink away the stress of the day. Beer wouldn’t be enough for that. Upon finding out that her favorite liqueurs were Baileys and Kahlúa, the bartender had suggested a concoction called a screaming orgasm that was made from vodka, Baileys, and Kahlúa.
The drink had a kick to it, but it was soothed by the creaminess of the Baileys. It went down easy. By the time Sam was halfway done, the alcohol had made its way into her bloodstream and was working its magic on her mood. She’d have to slow down, or she’d be calling Tessa for a ride home.
Relaxing back in her chair, she ran her fingertips on the smooth bar top. It was one long slab of honey colored wood with the bar
k still attached to the edges, encased in a thick layer of shellac. Across from her, three tiers of booze bottles were stacked against the wall, lit from behind so as to display the colorful glass. Stained-glass panels hung down from the top of the bar, and she relaxed back into her chair, resting her cowboy boots on the brass foot rail in front of her as she eyed the mocha concoction beckoning to her from its martini glass in front of her. She picked up the cool glass and took a big sip, then signaled the bartender. Just one more drink and then she’d top it off with coffee before driving.
Her thoughts turned to the chili contest, the reason why she was in Sweetrock in the first place. Not that it wasn’t great to come and see Tessa. In fact, it had been a visit that was long overdue, but she needed to get her act together. What if she didn’t win the contest? Then what was she going to do? She supposed she would try for another job in Boston. She could always tell her parents it was a strategic move on her part—a stepping stone that would position her better for her own restaurant. Surely one of her friends back there would know someone that could help her get another job. She glanced down at the messages on her phone. One from her parents and one from her sister. None of her Boston friends had even contacted her the whole time she’d been here. Some friends they were.
She wondered if going back to Boston was even the right move. Her family was there in the suburbs of Massachusetts, and she would miss not having them close. Glancing at the phone again, her heart tugged. She’d been putting off talking to her folks because they wouldn’t understand and she was embarrassed to tell her sister the truth. Sooner or later she was going to have to call them, though. She’d sent her mother several texts assuring her she was fine, but she knew her parents would worry if they didn’t talk to her in person. What would she tell them? She was no good at lying, but she’d have to come up with a suitable story so they didn’t know the truth of how bad things were for her.
Funny thing how the only person she could really tell her troubles to—Tessa—lived so far away. They’d been as close as sisters in college, celebrating each other’s successes and crying on each other’s shoulders at their failures. In fact, Sam had been instrumental in pulling Tessa from the depths of despair when her childhood sweetheart—some jerk named Derek Masters who Sam had never met and never wanted to meet—had screwed her over.
Sam could still remember how depressed the normally bubbly Tessa had been, and she was grateful that now her friend seemed much happier and well-balanced. She hoped Tessa would find another love, even though she’d never known her to have more than a week-long fling after that.
Leaving Tessa was going to be hard after reconnecting and having spent two weeks here.
But did it have to be that way? This last week with Tessa had been a lot of fun and brought back all those old memories and feelings from college. And it turned out that even though Sweetrock was in the middle of nowhere, living here did have its advantages.
Less smog.
Less people.
Less bullshit.
But she’d only been here for a week. She was sure if she stayed here for any length of time all that would become dull and boring and she would crave the bright city lights again…despite what Beulah said. Not to mention that the opportunities out here for the type of position she needed were minimal.
“Penny for your thoughts?” The familiar husky voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she turned to see Nick slipping into the barstool beside her.
“I was just thinking about how different things are here than in Boston,” she said.
“I bet. So how was the cooking today?” Nick rested his forearms on the bar, picking at the label of his beer.
Sam blew out a breath. “Disastrous. One thing went wrong after another.”
Nick smiled. “I did notice you were covered in chili.”
Sam laughed. She could only imagine how she’d looked by the end of the day, hair frazzled and covered in red chili sauce. “How about you? How did things go for you?”
Nick shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He swung his chair so that he was looking straight at her. “Somehow, I’m not as keen to win as I used to be.”
She turned her chair, too, their knees brushing against each other. In the light of the bar, Nick’s eyes were more amber than brown, and now she noticed they had little flecks of gold. Her pulse thrummed, and her head spun slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken that last sip of the drink.
“Winning isn’t everything.” Her voice came out low and soft.
“Exactly.” He leaned in closer and she found herself leaning toward him. It was like he had some kind of magnetic pull. His eyes flicked from hers to her drink. “What are you drinking?”
“Uhh…a screaming orgasm.” She flushed. The name of the drink sounded erotic on a whole different level when she said it out loud to Nick.
His eyes dropped to her lips for a second, then came back up to rest on her eyes. “Want another?”
Yes. Yes, she did.
She held his gaze. “Maybe later.”
He leaned even closer, a few inches away, his gaze dropping to her lips again. Was he going to kiss her this time? She sure hoped so. Her eyes fluttered shut.
“Hey, lady is that your Jetta out there?”
They jerked apart, and Sam whirled toward the door. A middle-aged man was holding it open with one hand and pointing to the parking lot with the other. Outside, she could see the blinking lights of a tow truck.
Tow truck?
She bolted off her stool and ran outside, Nick following close behind.
“What are you doing!” Sam waved her hands frantically at the tow truck driver who took one look at her and stepped backward. He held his hands up as if to ward her off.
“Whoa, there, lady, back off.”
“But that’s my car.”
“Sorry, I have my orders. Please step aside.” The man looked at her warily as if he had experience with people making trouble when he towed their cars away.
“But I didn’t call anyone to have my car towed.” Sam looked around for another red VW Jetta. “You must have the wrong car.”
The man looked at her funny then flashed a clipboard in her face. Sam saw the word repossession in big block letters at the top.
Her car was getting repossessed?
“No. No. There must be some mistake my car is not getting repossessed. I pay the bills on time.”
The man started up the winch that pulled her car onto the bed of the truck. “That’s what everyone says, lady. Now step back, or I’ll have to call the cops.”
Nick put solid hands gently on her shoulders. “Maybe I can straighten this out.”
Sam wasn’t one to let anyone else fight her battles, but Nick was a lot calmer. Maybe she should let him take over. She nodded and stepped back.
Nick strode over to the man. “What’s this about?”
The man shrugged and angled the clipboard toward Nick. “Says here she didn’t make the payments.”
Nick cocked his head to read the paper then turned to Sam. ”This looks legit. Is it possible you missed some payments?”
Crap!
She’d never checked her bank accounts. She must’ve shorted herself in the checking. Whipping her phone out of her back pocket, she logged into her online banking account, her stomach crashing when she saw her mistake. Why hadn’t she checked sooner?
It was a stupid mistake. One an organized planner would never make it. What would her parents think of her now? Her eyes burned as she pleaded with the tow truck driver. “I forgot to transfer money in the account. I can pay it now and bring it current.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I have my orders. I have to impound the car. You’ll have to work it out with your loan company.”
Sam watched helplessly as the man secured her car onto the truck. Why hadn’t the loan company called her? Weren’t they supposed to do that before they repossessed a car? Heck, she’d only missed two—okay, maybe three—payments, but they hadn’t even given her any
warning. Then she remembered she’d lost her apartment, and the land-line that went with it was the one she’d given to the car loan company. The line had been disconnected. And she’d had all her mail forwarded to a post office box that she hadn’t had time to check.
“So there’s nothing you can do?” She pleaded with the driver.
“Sorry, Ma’am.”
“How’d you even find it out here. I’m from Boston.”
The man tapped the side of the car. “GPS tracker. They know where you are all the time now.”
Nick had put his arm around her, and she collapsed against him, her heart sinking. What the hell was she going to do now? She realized how sad her circumstances were—now she had no car, no home, and no job.
Nick held her in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on her back, and murmured things in her ear. It almost made things all right. Well, at least it made them a heck of a lot better.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this straightened out,” he said.
We?
Normally, the thought of anyone helping her would not have been a welcome one. She'd learned the hard way to only depend on herself after Eddie had dumped her. But Sam was in over her head. And thinking about Nick helping—even wanting to help—made her feel all warm inside.
But she didn’t want to tell Nick all her problems. He’d think she was a nutcase. She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Thanks. I feel so foolish. I had meant to check the app, and I could’ve avoided all this, and now I have no car.”
“Don’t worry. Between Tessa and me you won’t be hurting for rides. In fact, looks like you’ll be needing one home tonight and I have my truck at the ready.” Nick pointed to a black Ford F-150 sitting at the edge of the parking lot, and her heart did a little flip at the kind gesture.
Some Like It Hot (Sweetrock Cowboy Romance Book 1) Page 7
