Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8

by Meg Benjamin

  Gray shook his head. “You’re wrong, Harris. You think she doesn’t care about you, but she does.”

  Harris shrugged. “She cares. I guess. But we’ve got different ideas about what I should be doing with my life.”

  Gray looked like he had more to say on that topic himself, but he sighed again instead. “Take care of yourself.”

  “Oh, I always do.” Harris gave him his sunniest smile. “I’m in the best shape of my life right now. Hauling logs and fifteen-pound cuts of meat around will do that for you.”

  Gray narrowed his eyes but said nothing. After a moment, he turned and headed back toward the bridge where he’d parked his car.

  Harris watched him go, blowing out a long breath. Every muscle in his body felt tight. Family. Can’t live with them. Can’t…well, actually you could live without them. He’d been doing it for a couple of years now.

  He heard the door of the trailer open and watched Darcy amble his way. She’d put on a bra, unfortunately. He liked the previous view her tank provided.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He nodded. “Hey. Did you hear any of that?”

  “Most of it. Your brother doesn’t believe in keeping his voice down, does he?”

  “Nope.” He leaned back against the bench again, rubbing his eyes. “Any questions?”

  “A few.” She sat down beside him, stretching her long legs in front of her as Porky emerged to have his ears scratched. He found that he liked that view too. “So you were a lawyer?”

  “For a while.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t very good at it.”

  “But they kept you on anyway?”

  “It’s my family firm. My grandfather and my great uncle founded it. My dad and my uncles kept it going. Now Gray and the cousins have taken over.”

  “But not you?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “I gather that wasn’t a popular decision.”

  “Definitely not. I’d say it was probably the most unpopular decision I’ve ever made.”

  Somewhere overhead the mourning doves were cooing. They sat in silence for a moment, listening.

  “So what happened?” Darcy said finally. “You just woke up one day and told them you weren’t a lawyer anymore?”

  “Not exactly.” He pushed his hat back so that he could see her better. “My grandma died and left me some money. Not a whole lot from the family’s point of view, but enough to get me started.”

  Darcy’s eyebrow arched up. “This was the grandma who made potato salad?”

  He nodded. “That’s her. She was the only one who understood how much I hated being in that office.”

  “And your family hasn’t forgiven you for it?”

  He shrugged. “My mom’s the one who’s really pissed. My dad died a while ago, although I don’t think he would have been all that happy either if he were still around. I think Gray’s just sort of confused. He loves what he does, and he can’t see why I wouldn’t.”

  Darcy stared off at the river, rolling lazily over the rocks below the trailer. Porky flopped down on the ground, closing his eyes for a quick snooze. “My mom and I fight a lot of the time. We always have.”

  “Did she mind that you wanted to be a cook?”

  Darcy shook her head. “She was more upset about the tattoos than about my cooking. And the earrings. And the hair. Of course, we fight about how to make stuff too. Half the time she’ll tell me my food’s all wrong. It’s like a game, I think.”

  “But you still talk to her.”

  “Oh yeah, all the time.” She sighed. “To tell you the truth, that’s her potato salad and coleslaw you’re selling. I figured in a pinch she’d have something she made for church suppers. Nebraska’s big on barbecue—different from Texas stuff, though.”

  Harris leaned back against the cypress, grinning. “Score one for Mom. Those are great sides. Only I liked the slaw you did for the thing at the Faro better.”

  “Right. I’m thinking that’s the one I’ll do for the cook-off.”

  “I’m thinking that’s a good idea.” He let the grin fade slightly. “Are you weirded out by this?”

  She frowned. “You mean that you used to be a lawyer?”

  He nodded. That and the whole trust fund thing, but maybe they could skip that for now.

  She shook her head. “You run into all kinds of strange people in kitchens. I knew a guy who used to be a college professor and chucked it all to make pizza. Really good pizza, too. I also knew a guy who dropped out of high school and can now make a hell of a beurre blanc. Kitchens are great equalizers.”

  “They are at that.” He brushed his fingertips along her cheekbone. “You’re good to have around, Ms. Cunningham.”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a dry smile. “I…cook.”

  “You do at that.” He pulled her into his arms, rubbing his face against her hair. “You definitely do.”

  If it had been up to Andy, she would have spent the day with Chico. But it wasn’t. Both of them had to go to work.

  She watched him pull on his shirt, already missing the sight of his bare chest. He had a tattoo on his left pectoral muscle, a coin with an elaborate design.

  “What does it mean?” she’d asked, running her finger over the curves.

  “It means I was once dumb enough to let somebody stick a needle in my chest.” But he’d grinned as he said it.

  “Come to the club tonight?” He cocked an eyebrow in her direction.

  She grimaced. “I have to go to dinner at my brother’s. I probably won’t get away until eight or so.”

  “Eight’s fine. That’s when the action usually starts. We’ve got a band tonight.”

  “Oh.” She felt absurdly pleased all of a sudden. He wanted her to be there. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He leaned down, cupping her cheek with one hand. “Bring a toothbrush.”

  The glow from that last sentence kept a spring in her step for the rest of the day.

  She picked up an apple pie at HEB on her way home from work. Eddie and Lorraine always said she didn’t need to bring anything, but she knew better. If she didn’t, they’d talk about it after she left. Of course, they’d also talk about the fact that she’d brought a store-bought pie instead of making one, but she couldn’t help that.

  Lorraine greeted her at the door. Her smile seemed extra bright for some reason. Andy liked Lorraine usually—in small doses. She kept Eddie from being a total pain in the wazoo. But Lorraine could be a pain in her own right too.

  “So you’re dating that big guy who works as a bouncer at the Faro?” Lorraine grabbed both the pie and Andy’s arm, dragging her into the kitchen. “What’s he like? I heard he went berserk once and broke up the place. Aren’t you worried about that?”

  Patience. Andy gritted her teeth. “He’s a perfectly nice guy. He doesn’t go berserk. Why would I be worried?”

  “Well, honey, I mean, he’s huge!” Lorraine’s cheeks flushed suddenly and she bit her lip. “I mean…well, you know what I mean.” Her eyes still looked bright, almost as if she expected Andy to provide details of Chico’s size from biceps to penis.

  Of course, Andy reflected, she was now in a position to do that. Although she had no intention of passing on those details to Lorraine.

  “He’s a big man, but he’s not a bully. He’s perfectly normal.” And I don’t want to talk about this. Except, of course, she knew they would. Her shoulders clenched tight.

  “Who’s normal?” Eddie closed the back door behind him as he came in from the garage. “You talking about Burnside?”

  Lorraine nodded quickly. “Andy was just giving me the details about him.”

  Andy was doing no such thing, but she kept her peace. It wouldn’t make any difference in the long run.

  “Heard he was one of those crazy Iraq vets.” Eddie picked up an olive from the relish tray, ignoring his wife’s glare. “Heard Ames hired him because nobody else in town would take him on ’cause of his flashbacks. Ca
n’t trust somebody like that. Liable to blow up any minute.”

  So much horseshit, so little time. Andy narrowed her eyes. “Chico’s an Iraq War vet, but he’s no crazier than you are, Ed. You shouldn’t go around spreading stories about people you don’t know. It’s not right.”

  “Well, he’s sure a change from Lew, I’ll say that for him,” Lorraine cut in, smiling that bright smile again.

  “Yes, he is.” Andy picked up an olive of her own. “A definite change.”

  “I liked Lew. Never understood what problems you had with him.” Eddie narrowed his eyes right back. “Always seemed like a nice guy.”

  “He did a good job of being a nice guy in public,” Andy said. “Unfortunately, he had a hard time doing it in private too.”

  “Just talked to him last week. He made an appointment to get his teeth cleaned.” Eddie gave her a flat smile.

  Andy gave him a tight-lipped smile of her own. Probably too much to ask for Lew to find a dentist who wasn’t related to her. “Good for him.”

  “Maybe we should eat.” Lorraine picked up a platter from the stove. “I thought we’d use the dining room tonight.”

  Eddie didn’t seem to be listening. “You know everybody’s going to be talking, don’t you? Hell, they’re already talking. My receptionist asked me if it was true you were dating the bouncer at the Faro. Everybody’s going to think it’s weird—somebody like you going out with somebody like him.”

  Somebody like you… Andy considered just how insulted she should be. She wasn’t entirely sure if Eddie was saying she was too ugly to get a man to go out with her or if he was saying she was too good for Chico. Probably a bit of both.

  She picked up a bowl of mashed potatoes Lorraine had placed on the counter. “People have way too much time on their hands if they’re spending it talking about me,” she said flatly. “I’d expect more from you, Eddie. You’re my brother and you should know better.”

  Behind her Lorraine snorted as if she was swallowing a chuckle. Eddie’s face turned bright pink. Andy started toward the dining room, turning back briefly in the doorway. “I don’t really want to talk about Chico and what people think of him. I thought you were more fair than that.”

  Eddie’s complexion was still red, but at least now it looked a little more like embarrassment than rage. “Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll drop the subject for now. Your choice, I guess.”

  “Yes, it is. And I’m happy with it.” Very happy, in fact.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chico managed to relax slightly before the main act came on. It was a roots rock band he was a little uncertain about. Sometimes they were good, but sometimes they were crappy. Not unlike life.

  When the Faro had a group playing in the beer garden, he was stage manager as well as bouncer, which meant he had to keep an eye on both the musicians and any potential troublemakers in the bar. And tonight he also had to keep an eye on Andy Wells.

  Well, he didn’t have to watch Andy. It was more a voluntary thing. Not that he wasn’t happy to volunteer for this particular duty.

  She sat at the table next to the stool he had propped in the corner so that he could see most of the beer garden. She smiled up at him as she took a sip of her beer. He figured most people wouldn’t have noticed how that smile made her face glow. He wasn’t most people, fortunately.

  He nodded toward the band. “What do you think?”

  “They’re good, I guess. I don’t know much about their kind of music, but I like them.”

  He caught a brief movement a couple of tables over, a quick turn of somebody’s head. He knew the people at the table had been staring at them—he’d seen it earlier in the evening.

  He wasn’t all that happy about it, mainly for Andy’s sake. They’d been getting stares from several different tables around the garden. They were already a subject of conversation around town. He hadn’t talked to his folks lately, but he was willing to bet they’d heard the news that he was seeing somebody.

  His mother would want him to bring Andy over for dinner. Then she could be stared at by a whole new group of people.

  Andy seemed to be deliberately ignoring the gawkers. But from time to time he caught her nibbling on her lower lip. He leaned back against the fence behind him, wondering how long it would take before seeing them together was considered too routine for second glances. He was going to do his best to make the whole idea commonplace by the end of the month. He figured being with Andy every night would do that.

  Clemencia dropped down at the table beside Andy, shoving a plate of onion rings to the center so that Chico could reach them. “Somebody ordered them and then changed their mind. Go ahead and eat them, or I’ll have to throw them out.”

  He snagged a couple then leaned back against the fence again. “Dinner service over?”

  She nodded. “Just about.”

  Another head swiveled at a table across the garden. Chico couldn’t decide if the woman was checking out their table or if she was just checking out the room. Probably by now he was getting paranoid.

  “You know everybody in here is watching you, right?” Clem dipped an onion ring in ketchup.

  He closed his eyes. Thank you, Clemencia. “They’ll get over it,” he snapped.

  “Sure they will. But right now, you’re up there with the weather and the construction on Highway 16 in terms of being a topic of discussion.” She grinned at Andy. “Different from your usual line of work, I’d guess.”

  Andy gave her a tight smile. “I can handle it.”

  Chico gritted his teeth. “Did you just come to bring us rings, Clem?”

  Clem shrugged. “That and news. Have you turned in the paperwork for the cook-off yet? Midge Torres over at the Merchants Association says the slots are filling up.”

  “I’ll finish it this weekend. I need to firm up a few things with the King.”

  “So who’s on your team?” Clem reached for another onion ring.

  “Me, the King, Darcy Cunningham. I guess she’ll make the sides for the people who come through during the afternoon.”

  “And me.”

  Andy’s voice was so soft he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. “You want to be on the team?”

  She nodded, her chin raising resolutely. “I thought about it—and yes. Is that okay with you?” She looked like she was ready to march into battle and maybe die for the cause.

  He felt a little like sighing, but he wasn’t one to turn down a gift. “Can you make those borracho beans of yours in mass quantities?”

  Andy nodded. “Sure. They’re better if you make lots.”

  “Then you’re in.” He managed a grin. Let Clem think what she wanted. Andy gave him another of those glowing smiles. Life was good.

  “Terrific,” Clem said dryly. “You know you’re going to need to start testing everything, right?”

  He longed to ignore her, but she had a point. “Yeah. We can do it. We’ve got over a month.”

  “You’ll need over a month.” Clem shook her head. “You remember that cooking contest Joe LeBlanc and I were in last fall? I spent a solid six weeks getting that menu ready.”

  “This isn’t as complicated as that was—just meat, not a full menu. We’re mostly there. Pork and brisket. Both of them tasted pretty good at the barbecue last Sunday.”

  “Pretty good won’t do it, Chico. That brisket was a little dry, which happens with the King’s stuff about a third of the time. And your pork was awesome, but it was probably too spicy for some of the judges.”

  He frowned. “Why didn’t you say something last Sunday? I thought you were good with it at the time.”

  Clem shrugged. “I was good with it. I still am. Both of you do tasty stuff. But you’re not perfect. And you’re going up against the pros. My guess is the King’s hoping to build his business with a win here. You need to be at the top of your game if that’s going to happen.”

  He folded his arms across his chest, wishing he could say she was wrong. But she wasn’t. And,
truth be told, the King’s beef was occasionally a little dry. He turned to Andy. “What do you think?”

  “I think Clem has a point.” She gave him a rueful smile. “A lot of the guys on these teams spend months on the circuit, and they’ve spent years getting their stuff together. But…”

  He leaned forward. “But…?”

  “But it’s like football. On any given day, any given cook can have a disaster. And any given cook can have a hallelujah moment. It helps to be ready, though.”

  He nodded slowly. “All right. Maybe we could make it a kind of every Sunday event—work on the recipes during the week, then cook for a crowd and have people try it. The King doesn’t have his truck set up on Sunday, and Sundays here are pretty slow.”

  “And I’m off Sundays,” Andy added. “Usually. Unless there’s an emergency or something.”

  “Tom could host it here,” Clem mused. “But you saw the kind of problems it caused the last time around—customers who wanted in and Tom running back and forth to keep it going and look after the bar.”

  Chico nodded, remembering all those stares. Another barbecue at the Faro might make Andy a little less enthusiastic about the whole deal—and him. “It wasn’t exactly ideal.”

  “You need someplace out of the public eye. Where you can limit your guests to people who are likely to give you some good feedback. And maybe some sponsor money.”

  Andy raised an eyebrow. “You’re still looking for sponsors?”

  “Yeah. Tom’s in. And Joe LeBlanc thought he could get his bosses to let the Rose sponsor too. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a few more, particularly if we have to give ’cue away to the public.”

  The band roared to the end of a number, and Chico realized he’d managed to miss most of it. Given that he was the one in charge of booking them, he probably needed to do a better job of paying attention. Judging from the crowd’s cheer, though, they’d been all right.

  He nodded slowly. “Okay, let me check with the King and see if we can come up with a location for some Sunday parties.”

  “Good plan.” Clem shrugged. “Pull your act together, get some consistency going, and you should have a shot. How good a shot is up to you.”