by Liz Isaacson
The hubbub of the Sunday dinner crowd gave May the confidence she needed. She smiled at the guests as she walked toward Kurt. It felt like a fifty-mile trek though she arrived in only a few seconds.
“You must be Kurt,” she said, employing her managerial voice, the one she used when customers were upset about their meal.
He choked, set his water glass down clumsily, and slid out of the booth. He sized her up as he did, and the heated edge in his eyes said he at least liked what he saw. “I am. And you must be May.” He spoke with a definitely Texas twang, and May didn’t hate it. She’d always found Texan men sexy, even if she could do without the cowboy hat.
Her eyes dropped down his jean-clad legs to his feet. And she could definitely do without the cowboy boots.
“So I didn’t realize you managed this place,” he said, glancing around. “I’ve only been here for Heather’s wedding banquet.” He gestured toward the other side of the booth. “Should we sit?”
“Yes, we should sit.” At least she could make her body do that. Once settled, she said, “You were at Levi and Heather’s wedding banquet?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She wished he wasn’t quite so charming with the ma’am. But a flush rose through her neck and into her face. “So was I. Heather and I have been friends for several years now.” And Heather had never mentioned the silver fox. Ever. A fact which May would be texting her about later.
“Dwayne’s my boss and best friend.” Kurt smiled at her and then Ally as she arrived tableside. May catalogued that his boss was the owner of Grape Seed Ranch, which meant Kurt likely lived and worked out there. A cowboy, through and through.
“What can I get you two?”
Kurt and May’s eyes locked, and an arc of electricity coursed between them. He raised his eyebrows, a clear indication for her to order first. Such a gentleman.
“You know what I want,” May said, glancing back at Kurt. “And I need a raspberry lemonade, Ally.”
“I’ll bring you a water too. For you, sir?”
“I’ll take the Triple Play appetizer plate,” he said without consulting the menu in front of him. “I want the southwest eggrolls, the angus sliders, and the gruyere and bacon mac and cheese, please.”
“Two Triple Play appetizer plates,” Ally said, meeting May’s eyes for half a second before walking away.
May flitted her gaze around the restaurant before eventually settling it on Kurt. He didn’t seem to have looked away from her at all, and he gazed at her evenly now too. A sure sign of his maturity, which also went in May’s positive column. If she had a pro and con column, which she totally didn’t.
He adjusted his hat and asked, “What three items did you get?”
She cleared her throat. “Corn and bacon chowder.” She leaned her elbows on the table, something she hadn’t dreamed of doing during a dinner date. This wasn’t a dinner date. This was a business meeting about the Spring Jubilee cooking contest. A melding of talents of sorts.
“You should try the chowder. It’s amazing.” She hoped her attempt at flirting was working.
Kurt’s brilliant blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. “Did you make it?”
Ally arrived with her water and the lemonade, which came in a thin glass almost eight inches tall. It was frosted, with a ring of sugar around the rim, and May threw her notions into the wind. This was a dinner date with a man she’d been chatting with for two days. A cowboy she’d been chatting for two days, she corrected herself.
“Would you like something to drink besides water?” Ally asked Kurt.
He sized up her drink. “Do those come in peach?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll take one of those.” He flashed a winning smile at Ally, who left them alone again.
May slid her drink closer and stirred the straw around, waiting for him to ask something else. He was obviously well-versed with dating, because he’d asked open-ended things all weekend, all without getting too personal or asking something she didn’t want to reveal—except for her last name.
“So do you manage the restaurant or do you cook?” he asked.
“I…do both,” she said. “I’m the head pastry chef here, but we have two others who work part-time. So sometimes I run the restaurant too.”
He took a long draw of water, his eyes never leaving hers. He had a powerful gaze, and he seemed to be able to see right through her.
“Okay, so my family owns the restaurant.”
“Ah, there it is.” He leaned back in the booth. “So you’re May Sotheby.”
“Yes. Did you know?”
“No.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Pemberton.”
“How long have you been in Grape Seed Falls?”
“Fifteen years.”
“What do you do at the ranch?”
“I’m the foreman.”
May almost groaned out loud. Foreman meant career cowboy, not something he’d give up lightly. As she slid her tongue along the rim of her glass and gathered the sugar with the sour lemonade, she wondered if it mattered if he was a cowboy or not. He was light years different from the other cowboys she’d dated, and they’d only been sitting there for seven minutes.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“You must not have read my profile very well.”
“I read it.”
Ally arrived with Kurt’s peach lemonade as well as the two Triple Play appetizer plates, the only difference between them her corn chowder and his southwest eggrolls. Ally said, “Enjoy,” and walked away.
May tilted her plate a half an inch and said, “So our tastes are obviously similar.”
“I can see that.” He picked up a slider and ate half of it in one bite.
She stirred her macaroni and cheese, unable to put anything in her mouth quite yet. “So I go to the church on Freestone Avenue,” she said. “I spoke with my pastor, and he said he didn’t see a problem with us teaming up if our congregations agree to split the prize.”
Kurt chewed and swallowed, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “You think you can cook with me? You don’t even know what I can do.”
“Your pastor chose you to represent his congregation, didn’t he?” May switched to stirring her soup.
Kurt seemed to watch her every move. “Yeah, I guess. I still think we should do a trial cooking session together. I might not be able to work with you.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward and he picked up his second slider. “Are you gonna eat? I feel like an idiot stuffing my face over here.” He held his food in front of him, waiting.
She lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth, the sweetness of the corn pairing perfectly with the saltiness of the bacon. “Mm. This is so good. You should try it.” She pushed the bowl toward him. “Can I have one of your eggrolls?”
“Help yourself.” He picked up his spoon and dipped it in the soup. After eating it, he nodded. “That is fantastic. You never answered if you made this or not.”
“I don’t cook,” she said. “I’m the pastry chef.”
He lowered his spoon. “But you can cook, right?”
She giggled. “That’s my recipe, so yes, I can cook.”
“Good.” He sighed with relief. “Because we have to put up an appetizer, a main dish, and a dessert.”
She ate half of one of his eggrolls and a few more spoonfuls of her soup while he polished off his sliders and his mac and cheese. “This is seriously the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had.”
“That’s my recipe too.” She pushed the soup toward him. “You can finish this if you want.” She picked up her slider.
He drank his lemonade, and being with him felt comfortable and easy. She hadn’t been on a date like this in months. Maybe longer. He picked up his soup and said, “What are you doin’ tomorrow night?”
“Let’s see.” She tapped on her phone and opened her calendar. “I’m on pastries in the morning, so I’m free after about four-thirty.”
�
��How about you come out to my place and we see if we can make something together?” His face, though tan and covered in a sexy five o’clock shadow, colored as he waited for her to answer.
“Is that a pick-up line?” she teased.
He chuckled and ducked his head in an adorable show of his awkwardness and nerves. “Not a pick-up line. Just wondering if you really want to do this partnership.”
Oh, she did. And the dating thing too. She couldn’t believe she was willing to look past the cowboy hat and the rugged cowboy boots. But Kurt possessed more charm and charisma in his little pinky than any of the men she’d been out with lately.
“Only if you tell me how old you are.”
He shook his head, a delightful laugh filling the space between them. “Forty-six.”
May finished her mac and cheese and grinned at him. “So what should I bring to your place?”
“You’re the pastry chef. You should be in charge of dessert. Is that all right?”
May liked the way he stretched out alllll riiiight. “Sure.”
“And let’s both plan an appetizer. And I’ll pick up ingredients for a main dish.” He finished his peach drink. “How does that sound?”
“Sounds like a plan.” And May thought it was a mighty fine plan. Or maybe that was the man sitting across from her, reaching for the bill even though she owned the restaurant and never paid to eat here.
Chapter Four
Kurt drove down the dark country lane toward the ranch, his mind whirring with the great conversation he’d had with May. He’d never met a woman so soon after starting to chat with her, but it had been natural, casual, everything Kurt wanted with a woman.
So he’d given her his number and she’d texted him before he’d even left the parking lot. So she must’ve enjoyed herself too.
“Right?” he asked the empty truck. “Right.” He wasn’t going to second-guess how he felt. The fireworks between him and May had been palpable, even for the girl serving them. Heck, the whole restaurant had probably noticed.
He started mentally constructing the menu he’d try with May the following evening, and he’d have to talk to Dwayne about leaving early to get to the grocery store. That, or he’d have to get up earlier than he already did and head into town for what he needed to make his sweet and sour meatballs, his Texas mashed potatoes, and his lemon almond green beans.
And with a main dish like that—maybe it was too heavy. Maybe he should do something lighter like his white bean chicken chili, or salmon with herbed crust and rice pilaf—what would the appetizer be?
“Soup,” he muttered to himself. But who wanted a soup with meat and potatoes? No one he knew. Well, actually a lot of people he knew. Cowboys loved their meat and potatoes. And bread. And soup. And pie.
“So salad.” But Kurt found salad appetizers boring. He wanted something amazing—they’d need it if they wanted to win the contest at the Spring Jubilee. He’d prefer a savory tartlet or a crostini. Or cheese. He didn’t think anything could go wrong when cheese was consumed.
Maybe May would have a better idea. No matter what, they’d need to make sure their dishes flowed seamlessly together, that each flavor from beginning to end belonged.
He got home and searched May’s profile for her age, and found it absent. His was there, buried in his bio near the bottom. She obviously hadn’t read it, but his age had obviously been important to her. Probably wanted to make sure he hadn’t gone prematurely gray. She couldn’t be older than thirty-five, and Kurt wondered if a decade of difference would matter to her.
hey, he texted as he climbed his steps to the front porch. so is it rude if i ask you how old you are
He wondered if May disliked his lack of punctuation and capitalization, the way Kathy had.
38 came back from May, and Kurt’s face split into a smile.
i really liked meeting you. He typed the message into his phone and stared at it. Was it too forward? Did he care? No, he didn’t. He tapped SEND and hoped May found him strong and capable and not coming on too strong.
I had a great time too.
Kurt bent down and patted Patches, who wouldn’t stop smelling his jeans. “Yeah, I know. I ate meat. Go on, now.” He playfully pushed the dog away and sat on his couch, his focus already back on his phone.
so i was thinking of doing fish tomorrow night. thoughts?
It’s always risky to have fish in the middle of Texas.
He chuckled, his thumbs flying over the virtual keyboard. you have fish on your menu
Only when we can get it fresh that morning.
They continued to chat for a few more minutes, and Kurt kept yawning. He finally signed off with gotta go sweetheart talk tomorrow
He’d learned through the months he’d been using TexasFaithful.com that he needed to power off his phone or he’d keep coming back to it. So he did, the seven-note chime it made as it went dark almost a relief.
Patches woke him with a high-pitched whine, and Kurt knew immediately that it wasn’t time to get up yet. Still, lingering images of Scotch eggs and onion rings floated in his head as he tried to figure out what was going on.
His first thought was coyotes, as they sometimes encroached on the western edge of the ranch. But the Cowboy Commons were located in the middle of the ranch, east of the homestead, and he found it hard to believe that Dwayne hadn’t called him yet if there were coyotes.
Then he smelled the smoke.
Scrambling now in the dark, Kurt lunged for his phone. He waited the precious seconds while it powered on before he called 911. Then he’d call Dwayne, because though it was January, a fire meant major trouble.
“Nine-one-one, state your emergency.”
“Kurt Pemberton out at Grape Seed Ranch,” he said, shoving his feet into his boots while he held his cell between his shoulder and his cheek. “I smell smoke, so there’s fire somewhere.”
“Can you see the fire?”
“No, ma’am. I’m about to head out now.” His steps were rushed but not frantic as he left the bedroom and pulled open the front door. As foreman, his cabin sat right in front of the flag pole, with the ranch buildings to the west. None of the cabins were on fire. The stables and barns and sheds and coops looked fine too.
But the scent of ash and the acrid smell of fire definitely filled the air. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from,” he said, moving down the stairs as his phone started buzzing with another call. He checked it and found Dwayne’s face on the screen. “My boss is callin’ me.”
“Help me find the fire first, sir,” the operator said, and Kurt gritted his teeth as he turned toward the backyard. He noted that Patches had not come with him, so there was definitely something wrong.
“It’s to the east,” he said, his eyes drinking in the orange glow that bled up from the ground and into the black sky. “Uh, ma’am, southeast, between the ranch and the town.”
“I’ve alerted the authorities.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kurt hung up and immediately called Dwayne back. “Fire,” he said by way of hello.
“I’m heading down my back steps. Where is it?” he asked.
“Southeast of the cabins.” Kurt paused at the corner of his house. “I already called it in to emergency services. I’m on my back porch. Should I get the ATV?”
“I’ll grab it and come pick you up.”
“Roger that.” To his left, Shane emerged from the back door of his cabin.
“Fire?”
“Not sure if it’s on the ranch or not,” Kurt said, his gut roiling like the flames were meters from consuming his cabin. “Dwayne’s coming with the ATV. We’ll check it out.”
Shane sat on the top step, joined by his brother Austin only a minute later. Dwayne arrived, and he barked, “Keep your phones on and nearby. We’ll let you know what’s goin’ on,” while Kurt climbed on the ATV behind him.
Flying through the darkness, that eerie orange glow increasing the closer th
ey got, and Kurt murmured, “It’s kind of beautiful.”
Dwayne grunted and brought the vehicle to a stop. “We go on foot from here.”
The temperature had definitely increased, and the chill that had kissed Kurt’s skin when he’d first burst into the night was completely gone. A dull roar met his ears, along with the distant barking of a dog.
“It’s not on the ranch, boss,” he whispered. They met the fence line and went over it.
“It’s Old Man Hanson’s barn,” Dwayne said with definite horror in his tone.
Kurt pulled out his phone and called the operator again. “It’s LeRoy Hanson’s barn, ma’am. Send the fire trucks there.”
A faint cry reached Kurt’s ears, raising all the hair on his arms, shoulders, and neck. “Someone’s in there.” He hadn’t meant for his words to come out so hushed, but they did.
He met Dwayne’s eyes, and he knew they were thinking the same thing. We have to help him.
LeRoy Hanson had been a good neighbor to the ranch, and he owned the bar and grill where Kurt liked to get the onion rings he’d been dreaming about. He decorated the restaurant for every holiday, and it had become a landmark in Grape Seed Falls. Right now, he had light-up snowmen in all the windows, and garlands of snowflakes along his awning.
Kurt shook the decorations from his mind. “Send an ambulance too,” he said before hanging up and shoving his phone in his back pocket. “All right, Dwayne.” They both stepped forward and to the right, the ground beneath their feet already collecting ashes as they gave the burning barn a large berth.
It seemed like only moments later that they’d bypassed the barn to find baby flames licking the back deck. LeRoy yelled, “Help!” just before appearing in the doorway with a bucket of water. He slopped most of it over the sides as he rushed forward to douse the biggest flames on the steps closest to the barn.
“LeRoy!” Kurt called. “Where’s the hose?”
His panicked eyes searched in the darkness, finally finding Dwayne and Kurt.
“I’m goin’ around front,” Dwayne said. “I’ll get something hooked up to the sink.”
