Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8

by Meg Benjamin

  “Nature,” she murmured. “That was nature. Ain’t it grand?”

  He managed a weak chuckle, dropping his head to her shoulder. “Grand. Yeah. That sounds about right.”

  I’m falling in love with her. The thought wasn’t even that much of a shock. He’d already known it on some level. Sooner or later he’d have to figure out what to do about it, about her, about them.

  But not just now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Andy glanced at the sky as she unlocked her front door. There was one week left before the cook-off, and her gut told her they were in for a gully-washer. For the past week she and Chico had been splitting their time between town and the King’s barbecue ranch. Sometimes they just cooked at Chico’s place—or once at hers. Sometimes they fed samples to diners at the Faro, assuming they could find some who hadn’t had too many beers to be objective.

  Consensus of opinion was that they rocked, and she didn’t necessarily disagree. But there was a lot to be said for getting as much feedback as possible.

  Still, a rainstorm would slow them down since it might keep them inside for a change. The weather service said rain but they didn’t say how much. Given that the state had been in a drought now for several years, a gully-washer would be a mixed blessing.

  For her water samplers, the blessing wouldn’t be mixed at all. It would be a bitch on wheels, increasing the difficulty of getting to the rivers and streams they had to sample. And if they had any flooding, the office would be working around the clock, testing to make sure the drinking water hadn’t been contaminated by flood waters.

  Which would leave precious little time to make borracho beans and potato salad or to sit around at the King’s place waiting for the latest iteration of Platonic brisket while explaining to Darcy why they couldn’t worry about plating their entry or, heaven forbid, adding any garnish.

  It would also leave her precious little time for sex with Chico, which was a lot more annoying than any of the other problems.

  She’d started dropping by the Faro two or three evenings a week. Those nights they went to his place. At his request, she’d even started keeping a minimal set of clothes in his closet since that meant she could stay fifteen minutes longer in the mornings. On the nights she didn’t go to the Faro, Chico usually came to her place after he got off. At her request, he had a few shirts folded in her dresser now. Not that he needed them since he didn’t usually go to work until noon, but she liked seeing them there when she picked out her clothes.

  She liked a lot of things about Chico.

  Of course, Eddie was still acting like a pain in the ass, but that had been true almost from the moment of his birth. Andy had long ago ceased to take him seriously, and she wasn’t interested in doing it now. Lorraine, at least, was somewhere between an annoyance and an amusement.

  “So,” she said over coffee one day, “is he, like, proportional all the way down?”

  Andy threw back her head and laughed, then declined to answer. Because, of course, he was “proportional all the way down.” And she had no intention of passing on those details to the citizens of Konigsburg, many of whom were still staring at them whenever they walked down the street together.

  Now she sat at her kitchen table, finishing up what passed for dinner, a pulled pork sandwich and a glass of iced tea. That was one thing she’d be glad of when this contest was over—she’d be able to cut back on eating pork for a while.

  Her cell phone chirped and she checked the screen, hoping it was Chico telling her he’d gotten off early for once. When she saw the number, she sighed. Lew.

  She was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but he’d already called twice, and, knowing Lew, he wouldn’t give up any time soon. Best to get it over with.

  “Hello, Lew,” she said, keeping her voice flat. “What do you want?”

  “Finally,” he snapped. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for two days.”

  “What do you want?” she repeated. With any luck she could keep this conversation brief.

  “I’m going to be in Konigsburg with the team for that competition on the Fourth. Thought we could have dinner, maybe on the third.”

  “That’s a busy time for me. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, come on, Andy, don’t be that way.” He sounded mildly irritated, as if this was a minor bump in the road that was taking up too much of his valuable time.

  Andy unfolded her hand, which she’d gripped into a fist as she spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m busy over the Fourth. Was there anything else?”

  “Busy with what?” Mildly irritated was rapidly shifting to Lew’s other primary mood, seriously irritated. “Dinner with Eddie and Lorraine? Come on, Andy.”

  “I’m busy,” she repeated firmly. If she kept saying it long enough, he’d eventually accept it, although he might not believe it was true. Of course, she didn’t exactly care whether he believed it or not. She just wanted him to stop calling.

  Lew’s irritated sigh told her he’d given up. For the moment. “All right, then. I’ll call you when I get into town.”

  Why? But she kept the reins tight on her temper. She didn’t want to prolong this conversation, after all. “If you want. I’ve got another call, Lew. Bye.”

  She checked her call waiting, hoping that maybe Chico had actually called her, but of course he hadn’t. He’d be seeing her in a little while anyway. She sighed. She should probably tell him about Lew, at least about his being in the cook-off. It wouldn’t be any big surprise, but even a small surprise could throw things off in a barbecue contest.

  Why exactly did Lew think it was okay to cause problems even when they were no longer married? Even though she’d pushed him out of her life permanently, he kept trying to push back in, sort of like fire ants or kudzu.

  Outside, she heard the quick rattle of wind through the pecan tree, followed by a distant rumbling of thunder. Great. At least if it rained now, the storms might be over by the time the cook-off started.

  The knock on her door startled her and she glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. She peeked through her peephole and saw Chico.

  Already the evening was looking up. “Come on in,” she said. “Have you had dinner?”

  He shrugged. “I’m okay. Clem fixed me a burger.”

  Good thing Clem wasn’t interested in members of the male gender, given how much time she spent with Chico on a daily basis. “Just as well. All I’ve got is pulled pork anyway.”

  Chico followed her down the hall, shaking his head. “I’m going to start dividing it between the King’s food truck and my folks to parcel out among the relatives. Otherwise, we’ll all be sick of it by the Fourth.”

  He hadn’t yet offered to introduce her to his folks. Then again, she hadn’t taken him to Eddie and Lorraine’s for dinner yet either. She wasn’t quite ready to inflict that on him. Maybe he felt the same way.

  She poured him a glass of iced tea, then sat opposite him at the kitchen table. Might as well get it over with. “My ex-husband’s going to be at the cook-off. He called me tonight and told me.”

  Chico nodded slowly. “Yeah, I figured as much. Does that bother you?”

  “No, not really.” It took her a moment to catch up. “Wait—how did you figure on that?”

  He shrugged. “He’s a big-time competitor for one thing. And Bobbie Sue said he’d probably show up.”

  Andy frowned. “Bobby Sue?”

  “She’s the waitress at noon. Leon’s mom.”

  “Oh.” She tried to picture Leon’s mom and realized she couldn’t even picture Leon. “And she knows Lew?”

  “Apparently. Her ex-husband was into the barbecue thing too.”

  “Does Lew worry you at all?”

  “The fact that he’s going to be there?” Chico shook his head. “Any reason he should?”

  “Nope. None.”

  “All right, then.” He gave her a quick smile as another blast of wind rattled the trees. His smile dimmed slightly. “I’m more worried about that.”r />
  “The rain?”

  He nodded. “That could cause some problems. Especially if we get too much too fast.”

  Andy wasn’t sure what the potential problem was since the county fairgrounds where the cook-off was being held were well above the flood plain. Still, the mud could be a nuisance.

  She smiled. “Are you staying?”

  He grinned back. “Are you asking?”

  She rounded the table to him, sliding into his lap as he set down his glass. “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Wouldn’t want to get wet.”

  She smiled again, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Definitely not.”

  Darcy woke to the sound of rain hitting the trailer sometime after midnight. Outside she could hear Porky barking. Maybe his dog house leaked.

  Harris was pulling on his pants beside the bed.

  “What’s up?”

  “Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “I’m just going to find out what the problem is with the dog. And check the river.”

  “The river?” She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, trying to wake up enough to understand what was going on. “What about it?”

  “It’s raining pretty hard, and the ground’s too hard to absorb it easily. I want to make sure the water level hasn’t risen too much.”

  Suddenly, she was very much awake. The trailer was on a rise above the river, probably up high enough to be safe from any flooding. But the kitchen was out in the open in the meadow. So was the lean-to with the smokers.

  Harris disappeared into the darkness outside, and she scrambled out of bed after him, pulling on her shorts and T-shirt. At the door to the trailer, she paused. The rain fell in sheets. What she could see of the ground in front of the trailer was a sea of mud, water running down the bank to the river in twisted streams. Harris was nowhere in sight.

  A moment later he reappeared, carrying a very wet Porky in his arms. The dog’s fur was matted across his back, his ears sopping.

  “There’s an inch of water in his doghouse. I’m going to have to put him in the trailer until it stops so he doesn’t drown.”

  He stepped around her, reaching for a towel from under the sink in the kitchen. Porky beat him to it, shaking himself so energetically he managed to soak the rag rug in the living room.

  Harris grimaced, dropping to his knees to dry the dog off. “Thanks, Pork. I really wanted to be even more wet.”

  He pushed himself to his feet, heading back toward the door.

  Darcy frowned. “You’re going back outside?”

  “Got to. The river’s rising fast. We don’t have much time.” He stepped out before she could ask him what he meant, but she figured it would be obvious soon enough.

  She glanced around the living room, looking for something to put on her feet. Flip-flops clearly weren’t going to do it, and going barefoot didn’t strike her as a great idea. After a couple of minutes rooting through the closet, she found a pair of rubber boots Harris used when he cleaned the smokers. They were too big, but she figured they’d do for now.

  When she stepped outside, the rain hit her like a punch, the wind blowing water into her face and hair. Somewhere nearby she heard the sound of a motor and turned to see Harris guiding his food truck up what was left of the road. The river seemed dangerously close to the bottom of the bridge he’d just crossed. He braked beside her.

  “What the hell are you doing out here in the rain? Get back inside.”

  She ignored him, pulling open the passenger door. “Are we heading for the kitchen? How much can we load in this thing?”

  Harris grimaced as he took off the brake and began rolling forward again. “Not as much as I’d like. I’ll pack it full of as much of the meat as I can carry—hopefully, that’ll be all of it.”

  She licked her lips. “You think the river’s going to flood?”

  He nodded. “It’s already close. If it goes above the banks, it’ll probably flood the kitchen and the smokers fast. I need to get as much stuff out of there as I can and turn off the power in the kitchen.” He pulled the truck to the side of the kitchen, and she followed him inside. The sound of the rain seemed deafening under the tin roof.

  “Start grabbing meat out of the freezer,” he yelled. “Stack it anywhere you can find room in the back of the truck. Don’t forget Chico’s stuff—he’s got some pork loins in there.”

  She nodded, already heading toward the chest freezer at the end of the counter. Harris opened the nearest refrigerator, pulling briskets out of the freezer compartment and salted meat out of the refrigerator side.

  They worked for fifteen minutes or so, filling the back of the truck with meat and plastic containers of rub. Darcy threw open one of the drawers, pulling out a selection of knives and wrapping them in a dishtowel.

  Harris shook his head. “Don’t bother.”

  “They don’t take up much room, and they’re hell to replace.” She tucked the bundle under her arm, grabbing a brisket and staggering slightly under its weight.

  “Spoken like a chef.” He followed her out the door, carrying a couple of pork loins like dumbbells.

  Darcy heard the sound of another motor as they loaded the last of the meat like cordwood in the back of the truck.

  “What the hell?” Harris raised his head, trying to peer through the sheets of falling rain.

  Another truck rolled toward them, heavy duty with an extended cab. “Who is it?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Chico. What the hell is he doing out here?”

  The truck pulled up beside them, the headlights casting shadows through the rain. Chico sat in the driver’s seat with Andy beside him. He rolled the window down, leaning forward across Andy to talk. “You want to try to get some of those smokers out of here? I’ve got room in the back.”

  Harris frowned for a moment, then he shook his head. “I’d rather move the wood than the smokers. The smokers can be replaced. The wood’s been aging for three years. I can’t pick up anything that old for a price I can pay.”

  Chico nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Darcy had a quick impression of Andy’s face, white in the reflected light, and then Chico’s truck was moving across the meadow toward the lean-to where the wood was stacked. Darcy narrowed her eyes. Was there more water in flowing across the meadow now or was it just her imagination?

  “Come on.” Harris started trotting up the road toward the lean-to.

  Darcy followed him as quickly as she could, given that her boots were a size too big and the mud sucked at the soles like rubber cement. When she made it to the lean-to, she found Chico and Andy tossing the short logs into the back of the truck. Harris stood at the side of the lean-to, tossing wood up the hillside.

  For a moment, she wondered if he’d lost his mind, but knowing Harris, that seemed unlikely. “What are you doing?” she shouted above the noise of the rain.

  “Trying to save some of this wood. This is the two-year-old stack. If I can throw it far enough up the hill, it may not end up under water.”

  Darcy blinked. He was throwing the wood higher up the hillside than the roof line of the lean-to.

  “You think the water’s going to get that high?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows? But I’d rather overestimate than underestimate.”

  After a moment, she grabbed a couple of logs and began tossing them herself. She couldn’t get them as high as he could, but she could still get them farther up the hill than they were at the moment.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stood throwing logs. Her arms were aching and there was a sharp pain in one shoulder. The rain hadn’t let up. In fact, if anything, it seemed to be falling harder than it had been before.

  Chico stepped up beside them. “We got most of it into the truck. The rest of it’s up the hillside. We need to get out of here now before the bridge goes.”

  Harris turned, staring back toward the river. Darcy caught her breath. There was definitely more water across the road t
han there had been before.

  “Yeah. We do.” He grabbed her arm, turning her back down the hill toward his truck full of meat.

  She splashed through the mud after him, her pulse hammering in her ears. The sound of the river was louder now, water rushing around her feet as it ran across the meadow. Please, please, please let the bridge hold for a few more minutes. If it didn’t, they’d have to climb up the hillside and hope for the best.

  And Harris would lose everything instead of just mostly everything.

  She heard the sound of Chico’s truck pulling onto the road below them as they scrambled into the truck. In the glare of his headlights she could see the bridge was still in place, but the water was running across it now. Chico rolled slowly toward the flowing river as Harris turned the truck to follow him. Darcy grabbed the panic bar, chewing on her lower lip.

  He pulled the truck to a stop beside the trailer. “Be right back.”

  Darcy opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, then shut it when he sprinted back with Porky in his arms.

  “Sorry, you’re going to have to hold him. I can’t put him in back with the meat.”

  She nodded wordlessly, taking the shivering pup in her arms. At least Porky didn’t seem to want to bounce for once.

  Chico’s truck moved slowly forward across the bridge. The water flowed around his wheels, reaching halfway up his hubcaps. He accelerated slightly, pushing through the water to the other side, then up the slight incline to the top of the rise, turning at the gravel road so that his headlines shone back down onto the bridge again.

  “Our turn.” Harris gave her a grin he probably meant to be reassuring. She’d seldom felt less reassured in her life. She hugged Porky tight, ignoring his attempts to lick her face.

  The truck rolled forward, bumping across the rocky road toward the bridge, then moving into the swift-flowing water. Darcy wasn’t sure, but she thought there was a greater flow now than there had been a few minutes ago. She tightened her hold on the puppy.