His Firecracker (A Her Choice Story)

by Megan McCoy

  “Like a good meal,” she agreed. “People say wow, when they get it, and don’t realize the level of skill and all the hard work and preparation that went into it.”

  “Nothing good is ever easy,” he said. “That was one of Rose’s sayings.”

  “And if something’s worth doing, it's worth doing well,” she added.

  “Yeah, Jeb says, ‘might as well do it right.’ He’s not one for a lot of words.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” she said, then admitted, “He scares me a little.”

  “He scares a lot of us a little,” Cole laughed. “If he ever asks you for a board meeting, watch out.”

  “Why? Does that mean you’re in trouble?” She asked, curiously.

  “Yeah, growing up, it was the one thing you didn’t want, was a board meeting. Jeb would take you out on the boat, tell you what you were in trouble for and if you didn’t have a good explanation, the board might meet your butt when we got back to shore,” he laughed, and she felt shocked.

  “You don’t think he does that to employees, do you?”

  “Oh, no. Don’t you worry. If anyone is going to spank your cute butt, it will be me.” He let go of her hand, and lightly smacked it, as if to prove his point.

  Jumping, she looked at him warily, “I don’t think that’s legal,” she warned him.

  Shrugging, he grinned at her. “It's not politically correct either, but doesn’t mean you don’t need it sometimes.”

  Heart racing, she tossed her hair, and put her hands on her hips. “I am not someone to be trifled with like that.” Feeling feisty, she warned him.

  “Oh, I don’t trifle, darling. You’ll find out,” he grabbed her hand again, and weirdly, she let him. They walked a while more in silence then he said, “You ready to head back and eat?”

  Nodding, she looked out over the lake. Oddly enough, his words brought her comfort. She wasn’t a shallow kind of person. She never gave her heart. She worked too much, and men always let you down. It was easier to fall in love with a beautifully decorated cake, or luscious fruit pie, a perfectly cooked steak, or a well themed casserole, than a man. Food was just better. You could plan for it, create it, use it for its intended purpose, to enjoy, and then recreate it if you wanted to. Men, they didn’t follow a plan. They were unpredictable and she didn’t like unpredictable. She needed the stability and security in her life of knowing she was working her plan. Men were the furthest thing from secure and stable.

  Cole headed down to the lake three hours later, the taste of Rayne’s lips still on his mouth. He liked the way she tasted, and he loved the way she melted against him when they kissed, as if he were the first one kissing her, ever. He’d cupped her butt in his hand and thought, size seven. Maybe an eight. He was a pretty good guesser on things like that. She’d pushed against him, not away from him. Yeah, he was going to see her again. Whether she realized it or not.

  Shaking his head, he focused on what he was going to tell Jeb tonight.

  Did he want to stay here? Was this just a stopping spot? He didn’t think so, hoped not, but wasn’t sure yet. He had nowhere else to go in the world, nowhere else to be. He wanted to be here, but he needed to know this was the right fit for him.

  He did know he needed a board meeting with the man who had been his only real father figure. They needed to talk.

  “Hey, Dad.” He slipped between calling him Dad like Matt did and like he had when he lived here, and Uncle Jeb. Neither felt exactly right, but he needed to make a decision and stick to it.

  Jeb fell in step beside him and they headed toward the old rowboat.

  “Want me to row?” Cole offered.

  “Hell, no. How else am I going to keep in shape?” Jeb motioned him in and then stepped in beside him, shoving off and stepping in with a practiced move. Rowing them to the middle of the lake, he looked up at the moon. “Nice here, tonight.”

  “Nice here every night,” Cole said, looking around, trying to tell if he could see the little gazebo he and Rayne had sat and ate and snuggled on from here. If they went back, he didn’t want anyone being able to see them.

  “So. Glad you’re home. Missed you. Wasn’t my choice to let you go, you know,” Jeb said, gruffly.

  “Glad to be home,” Cole said. “And I realized that, after a few years. You didn’t have a choice.” He planned to let Jeb lead this conversation.

  “I have a choice now, and that’s to tell you this is your home for as long as you want it. I just want to know what you want to do.”

  “Do I have to decide right now?” Cole asked, softly.

  “Nope. But I’m just asking you to tell me if you decide to take off. You leaving with no notice once is all I can take,” Jeb picked the oars back up, and headed to shore again.

  “I promise, Dad,” Cole said softly. “Planning to stay in the bunkhouse for now, but might be getting a place in town, come winter.”

  “Up to you. We always have a spare cabin or two, if you decide you want something here.”

  Well, that seemed to be that. Apparently, Jeb wanted him there. He needed to be wanted.

  Jeb stroked steadily. “So you and that spitfire had a board meeting yet?”

  “Rayne?” he asked, startled. “I thought she’d been behaving since I had her apologize to Liz.”

  “You don’t know everything that goes on around here,” he said. “I do, and what I don’t know, Candy does. Just letting you know. She has some issues and needs this place as much as we need her. But I really need that temper under control. She’s not in a fancy fine dining place with a bunch of cooks who’ve been to school. Half her staff is teenagers who cry when they get yelled at. I don’t like dealing with tears, and neither does Blaze, and he’s been the one dealing with most of them.”

  “I’ve noticed the teenagers like Blaze a lot,” Cole said, absently, his mind racing. He thought he’d handled things. Apparently not.

  “You need me to handle her? I know it's not your job, so I can put the fear of God in her, or Candy can. Like I said, though, we’ve been looking for a chef for over a year now. She’s the first one we really think has potential. Plus, she needs us as bad as we need her. Seems you two have a connection.” Jeb stroked steadily back to shore. “And you’ve worked with her more than we have.”

  “Yeah, she has potential. You know anything about her backstory?” Cole asked.

  “Not my place to tell. Just know about six months is as long as she’s lasted anywhere since school.”

  “But don’t know why?”

  “Do know. You find out.” Jeb reached the shore. “And handle it. Show me you’re a Lyon male. Handle her. If you want to.”

  “I do. Will do, Dad,” he said, mind still racing at this new information.

  Chapter 9

  Twenty-four hours later, Cole lounged outside the back door of the mess hall, waiting for Rayne to come out. He’d been around off and on all day, mostly lurking in the pantry, or dining room. He’d finally heard what he hadn’t seen. He’d talked to Blaze earlier in the day, too, asking him about the tearful teenagers.

  Blaze had rolled his eyes. “Getting tired of dealing with them, to be honest. I know it's part of the job, but I’ve had too many females soaking my shirt lately.”

  “What’s their biggest complaint?” Cole asked him.

  “The new chef,” he said simply.

  Alright then. He saw with his own eyes and ears what was going on in the kitchen. Rayne apparently behaved when he was around, but when she didn’t know he was there, her true self came out.

  He’d come out of the back room a few times, and she’d stop in mid rant to smile at him. No one said a word to him. He didn’t want teenagers crying on him, but hoped they knew they could come to him if they needed to. He wasn’t a boss, technically, but he’d worked with all them a few weeks as their substitute chef before Rayne came.

  He had no clue what Rayne’s issues were, but he knew she needed to learn some self-control. He could help with that. He’d do
ne it before. For whatever reason, he preferred not to think about, he couldn’t wait to help Rayne learn some self-control and a few other things.

  Rayne shook her hair out from the bun she’d put it up in earlier and looked around the kitchen once more. It looked good. Clean and ready for tomorrow. Luckily, she didn’t have to be in till almost eleven tomorrow. It was an easy day, lunch was two kinds of soup, and several different sandwiches. She’d put on the supper brisket when she came in. Her morning staff would handle breakfast.

  Turning out the lights, she stepped out in the night air and locked the door behind her. Turning, she let out a shriek as she saw a man standing in the shadows. Recognizing him, she said, “Damn, Cole. You scared me.”

  “Sorry, Rayne, didn’t mean to scare you.” he was looking at her oddly, she thought. Why?

  “Come on, change your clothes and let's take a walk.”

  It was a nice night. She could use a walk with a cute cowboy in the night air. Her heart hadn’t settled down from his unexpected appearance. It never really settled down around him. He was better than doing cardio, she thought, half smiling. “Okay. You want to come in?” she offered.

  “Sure,” he said.

  Taciturn tonight, he was, she thought, and unlocked her door, hands trembling a bit. She didn’t want to let him see how he affected her. Only physically, she reminded herself, and that wasn’t really something she could help. Her mind, however, was calm and cool, and who the hell was she kidding?

  They entered her apartment, and she went to her dresser, grabbing a pair of jeans, and a long comfortable tunic shirt, and headed to the bathroom to change. He sat down in the recliner, still not saying anything. She started to feel nervous, as well as the usual anticipatory feeling she got around him. She didn’t like his quietness. It didn’t feel comfortable.

  Washing up quickly, she pulled on her jeans and shirt, wishing that she could take her bra off. Unfortunately, being well endowed also meant, she didn’t want them swinging free while they were walking. Oh well, within the hour she’d be back here, bra off, feet up and a big glass of wine in her hand. Somehow that didn’t seem as wonderful as it did most nights after work. Right now, she really wanted a long walk with Cole.

  Coming out of the bathroom, she grabbed her sneakers from under the bed, and turned around, sitting down to put them on.

  “Nice of you to ask me for a walk,” she’d said. He’d been in and out of the kitchen all day, but she’d been focused on working, and while she’d reacted to him, when he came in, she hadn’t paid much attention to him.

  “Doing double duty,” he smiled at her and she relaxed just a little.

  “Double duty? What does that mean?” she asked, standing up and ready to go.

  “It means I get a walk with a pretty girl, but I need to talk business with her,” he said, opening the door for her. Stepping under his arm, she walked back out into the night air, heart pounding even harder. Business? Okay.

  Taking her hand, she smiled back at him, in the darkness. “Want to walk to the lake?” he asked.

  “That’s fine. Did you have a good day? I saw you around off and on most of the day. Sorry, I was busy, though,” she tried to fill the empty space.

  “Yeah, that’s sort of what I want to talk to you about.”

  “That you can’t stand to be away from me?” she teased, but with a dry mouth. She didn’t like where this was going at all.

  Cole laughed, and squeezed her hand. “There is something about you,” he said.

  “Something good or bad?” Rayne started to get impatient. He needed to come out with this.

  “We’ve been having some personnel issues in the kitchen,” he started slowly, not letting her remove her hand from his, though she immediately tried to tug it away. She knew where this was going.

  “And am I the issue?” she asked. “If so, why are you talking to me instead of oh, say, one of my real bosses?” Now she was beyond irritated. She tugged harder on his hand, trying to remove hers, but he wasn’t allowing her. He just kept walking and holding it as if she weren’t tugging on it at all.

  Whatever. She quit pulling on his hand but opened her mouth. “I don’t know what people are telling you and honestly, it pisses me off they are going behind my back to talk about me. If someone has an issue, they need to talk to me like adult.”

  “Most of the people working in the kitchen, aren’t adults, though,” he pointed out. “They took a class at the local college, some of them are dual credit classes and they are still in high school. While they have a job, they’re still teenagers and most of them don’t even have a food handler license yet. You can’t treat teenagers as if they were seasoned professionals.”

  “I don’t,” she snapped and gave her arm one hard pull again. She didn’t want to be holding hands with him while they had this conversation. It didn’t seem professional. “I just need them to do their job. The one you are paying them to do.”

  “I understand that,” he said, calmly, finally letting go of her hand. She crossed her arms across her chest defensively, yet still kept walking in step with him.

  “So what’s the issue?” She tried to be patient, but this entire situation was just making her upset. The one thing she did well was to cook. No one had better say she didn’t know how to run a kitchen.

  “I saw you save that dog,” he said, mildly.

  “What?” Rayne stopped walking and turned to look at him. “What dog?”

  Had she even seen a dog in the last couple weeks? She didn’t think so. Maybe one or two in the pasture?

  “I was driving here a couple months ago, and stopped at this truck stop in northern Indiana.” he said. “There was the fiery redhead in the parking lot with a golf club….” His voice trailed off.

  “Oh.” she said, shocked. “Well.” That was just a real good come back, she thought, and turned away, arms still defensively crossed and started walking to the lake again.

  “Yeah, I thought at the time, I’d love to meet her. Someone that passionate and that fearless,” he said, picking up his stride to match hers.

  “I’m not fearless,” she said, stubbornly. “It just needed done. What kind of clueless idiot leaves their dog in a hot car?”

  “People who don’t know any better,” he said. “Why were you there?”

  “That was my job before this, working in the kitchen there,” she admitted, slowing her pace. “Apparently, I was supposed to call 911 and wait for them while the dog cooked to death. I’ve never cooked dog and I won’t stand by while someone else cooks one.”

  “I figured that out,” Cole said, and she gave a little shiver. She’d done nothing wrong. Why was she nervous? She needed to pro act, instead of react. Opening her mouth to do just that, he beat her to the punch.

  “How did you get here?” he asked.

  “Saw an ad on line. My goal is New Orleans. I’m working my way south. Luckily for me,” she said very sarcastically, “kitchens always need help and no one wants me around very long. I’ll be there in a year or so.”

  “No big hurry, huh?” he asked.

  “Nope. Might as well enjoy the journey. Gonna be there for the rest of my life, why hurry? Barring another Katrina, it's going to be there when I get there.” She moved a little faster. What did this have to do with the teenagers in the kitchen? Rayne felt confused about this entire conversation.

  “Why New Orleans?” He asked. “Why not a place like here? You got family there?”

  “Nope. Just like the accents down there. I think I’ll be a good fit.” She glared at him. “With all the drinking and noise around no one will hear me scream, now will they?”

  “I think it's space where no one hears you scream, and you know Mardi Gras is only once a year.”

  Cole took her hand again, and this time she let him, but wasn’t sure why. “I’m not stupid,” she said.

  “You really have a chip on your shoulder, don’t you,” he said in a way she knew he wasn’t asking.

 
“No. I don’t.” She didn’t care if he was going to tell her the grass was green or the sky was blue. She wasn’t going to agree with him.

  “So. You telling me I’m fired?” There. She put it out there. “If so, that’s fine. I can be moved out in the morning.”

  “Oh, you aren’t getting off that easy,” Cole laughed and she glared at him.

  “Easy? You think anything about my life is easy?” She tried not to let her voice rise, but by golly, sometimes it just did it on its own.

  “Yup. I think anytime things get hard, you cut and run. Like you’re thinking of doing now,” he told her and slowed his step. Rayne didn’t want to slow down. She wanted to walk faster. Her nerves zinged in a no good very bad way, and she didn’t want to talk to him anymore. She had no choice though, because his fingers interlaced in hers were not loosening.

  “Am not,” she said, childishly.

  “Are too,” he said, and laughed.

  “I can’t think of a thing funny about this conversation,” she stopped again, to glare at him, but he just kept walking, and pulled almost off her feet, she stumbled after him.

  “You’re cute,” he said and reached over to stroke her hair. “That was all. I’m not laughing at you.”

  Jerking her head away, she really felt like stomping her feet and screaming in frustration. “I don’t know what you want.” she spat out.

  “Oh, I’m going to tell you,” he assured her. “See that bench up there? That’s where we’re heading.”

  “Okay,” she said, softly, trying to swallow her anger and irritation. Men did not know how frustrating they were. How just incapable of a decent conversation like people should be. Men and most kitchen workers. You just wanted to be able to tell them what to do. You just needed them to do it. If they didn’t, what choice did you have but to raise your voice and tell them again? Till the words soaked into their thick skulls. It wasn’t that hard.