by Erika Kelly
“He was but, honestly, I think he bought it because it holds so many memories for us. My brothers and I used to play here. We’d use sticks as guns and have shoot-outs. I always played Butch Cassidy.” He smiled at the recollection. “We’d hide out in the old saloon, lock each other up in jail.” Good times. “I doubt he ever imagined it turned into a living museum.” They crossed the dusty street to the next, more crowded, boardwalk.
“Oh.” Touching his arm, she gave him a sweet but sad smile. “I bet he’d love it.”
“He would.” Loss ballooned inside his chest, making it hard to take a full breath, but he wouldn’t go there. Not now. “We did a lot of camping growing up, and we’d sit around the fire listening to my dad and Uncle Lachlan tell stories about the rustlers who’d lead their stolen cattle or horses into Jackson Hole.”
“Tell me one.”
He cast her a quick glance, getting that kick of awareness from the interest sparking in her hazel eyes, the swell of her breasts in the pretty lavender sundress.
He looked away. “I’ll tell you why we decided to call the town Owl Hoot. This area was pretty uninhabitable. The Native Americans came into the valley for the bison, the traders came for the beavers, but the land and weather weren’t hospitable enough for anyone to make a home here. It’s also shaped like a bowl with only a few passages in, which made it a perfect place for people who didn’t want to be found. Rustlers would steal Montana horses, hide out in the valley—Jackson Hole—long enough to change their brands, and then sell them to cowboys in Utah or Idaho.”
“So this whole area was founded by outlaws?”
He smiled. “Badasses, yeah.”
She squeezed his bicep. “I guess that explains the streak of independence in your family.”
A pulse of electricity shot through his limbs. It wasn’t just the touch, he realized. It was the way she seemed to like him. Admire him. “Yeah, so, like I said there weren’t many ways to get in, and since they were rustling and trying to avoid the law, they had to take the most treacherous routes. They called the passage Owl Hoot because they ran the horses and cattle in at night.”
“Oh, I love that. What a great story.” They’d neared the center of town, and she smiled at the costumed actors tying up their horses to iron hitching posts. “It’s funny because I’ve traveled a lot, but I’ve never seen anything like Wyoming. From the plane, the land looked brown and…desolate. I thought it’d be sad here, but it’s gorgeous and so different from anywhere I’ve ever been.”
“Wait’ll you hit the trails.” He stopped himself from offering to take her out on the ATVs. You’ve shown her around. That’s enough. When they reached a crowd surrounding a street scene, they stopped to watch.
She smiled like she’d never seen anything so delightful as a jailor hauling a drunk by the back of his neck. Her complexion was so smooth and creamy, and she had the cutest dimple.
He wanted to punch himself in the face. Why am I giving my houseguest a tour of this town instead of taking care of business at home? “Let’s go.” He continued on, ushering his thoughts towards his sister.
Funny thing, he actually missed the little girl. After his shower that morning, he’d come downstairs ready to get her, only to find his mom had taken her into town. His disappointment had surprised him.
When they reached the saloon, he said, “Okay, we’re here.”
“What’s going on?” She pointed to the people waiting to get in.
“We’re doing family meals this week.”
“I thought the town doesn’t open until Friday?”
“It doesn’t. But, to iron out the kinks before we officially open, we’re doing a trial run, so it’s open to friends, family, and town employees. Everything’s free.”
“That’s such a great idea. Your brother thought of everything.”
“Yeah, so…enjoy. Lachlan will pick you up whenever you want.”
“Or I can just take the train. Now that I know where it is.” Her eyebrows lifted, and she gave him a smile.
She was so pretty. He’d seen plenty of beautiful women in his life, but they didn’t make him feel like this. Like hitting the rails at slightly the wrong angle and not knowing whether you’d correct in time or crash. Turn the channel. “See you.”
“Will?”
They were right in the middle of pedestrian traffic, so he took a step back towards the saloon wall.
“I know you don’t need a houseguest on top of everything else you’ve got going on, so thank you. For taking me out today and just…being so nice. All I wanted was to take my mind off the stuff going on at home, and I sure got it.”
“Is my suspension and finding out my dad got someone pregnant right before he died doing the trick?”
“Oh, man. No offense, but I think I’ll keep my own problems.”
“No offense taken.”
“I have to say, you’re handling the suspension incredibly well.” She gave him a knowing look. “But I suspect you’re a still waters kind of guy.”
“I can’t get worked up over things I can’t control.” Really? Is that why you didn’t sleep last night? Every time he’d start to drift off he’d remember the suspension, and it would send a shockwave through him.
“The injustice of it, though.” Delilah shook her head.
You got that right. “Yeah. I won’t lie, it’s grinding through me. People have always made fun of us for our discipline. We don’t party much or get trashed, don’t crash cars or sleep with local girls.”
Clearly, that last detail got her attention, but she didn’t press him on it. “So it sucks that we’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much, only to have some jerk tear it all down.”
She gave him a compassionate smile. “What’re you going to do about it?”
It killed him to say it, but… “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“It’ll fix itself. Anyone who knows the sport, my friends and family, the people that matter, gets what’s going on. And, since the investigation can’t turn anything up, I’ll be exonerated.” But a truth flickered somewhere in his brain. Being exonerated wasn’t the same thing as restoring his reputation.
“There must be something you can do, right?”
“Jumping up and down and waving my arms will only make it worse. Like I said, my friends and family know the truth.”
“Well, I didn’t mean anything aerobic, but I get your point.”
She was cute, and he wanted more. More touching, more of her humor. He wanted to feed her fresh-picked strawberries from Marcella’s garden, watch her eyes go wide from the juicy sweetness. He wanted her alone in his truck. In his bedroom. Under the covers. More…
Go. “You ready to meet some chefs?”
“Totally. Hey, maybe I’ll even hit it off with one of them and get a job out of it. But, even if I don’t, I’m bound to learn something, right? Chefs of this caliber wouldn’t come out here unless there was something special about the place.”
“A hundred thousand special things.”
She eyed him curiously.
“One of them’s taking home a hundred grand.”
“That’s the prize?”
He nodded.
Her eyes went wide. “A hundred thousand dollars?”
“How else would we get them out here?”
She gestured to the Tetons, the town, and then her hand swept from his head to his boots, making him laugh.
“They might come out for a visit, but the whole summer?” he said. “We had to make it worth their while.”
“I thought they got a shot at running the spa restaurant?”
“Some of them don’t want that. I know Chef Mathilda doesn’t.” She wouldn’t walk away from her Michelin-starred restaurant. “Two of them are looking for a change, so they might be interested. Chef Alonso came to work on his cookbook. But the search for an executive chef is separate from the competition. That’s something the board will decide, and it’ll be based on more than the food
they prepare. The chefs came for the event itself, the exposure, the change from their routine…and the hundred grand.”
“That’s a lot of money.” She looked lost in thought, and he liked watching her mind work. “If I applied for a small business loan, I’d have two hundred grand.” A switch flipped, and thoughtfulness turned to excitement. “I could open the franchise myself.” She touched his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Something deep inside him stirred. He’d felt attraction and interest plenty of times before, but never this craving, this thrumming…imperative to be with a woman, and it shocked the hell out of him.
“I know the first event starts at the end of the week,” she said. “And I know you’ve already got your five chefs, but is there room for one more?”
Before he could answer, she said, “You’re outlaws. What do you care how many chefs are in the competition, right?”
He got that she was excited, but he wasn’t sure she had all the information. “There are six events total, one a week.” Except they had two weeks to complete the final event. “You’d have to stay the whole summer.”
“I can do that.” But then excitement flattened to worry. “I’d have to get a job, though, and find a place to live. That can’t be too hard, right?”
“You’re not going to find either in the middle of the summer tourist season. But if you’re in the competition, you’d get lodging and a stipend like the others.”
Her hands covered her mouth, her eyes glittering with happiness. “Will you let me in?”
“I’m not involved with the competition in any way. I can’t imagine Brodie having a problem adding a sixth chef, but you’d have to meet the same criteria as the others.”
“Which means?”
“The board wanted chefs with visibility, accomplishments, something that makes them stand out.”
“I won the American Culinary Federation Student Chef of the year, and I run one of the most famous restaurants in New York City. Plus, I’ve apprenticed with—”
He raised a hand to stop her. “I have nothing to do with it. I’ll put you in touch with Chris. He’s running the show.”
She reached into her giant leather tote and pulled out a tablet. “What’s his email address?”
Will cracked a smile. He liked her style.
“What? The first event is Friday night, right?”
He nodded.
“Then, I’ve got to get cracking. I can at least introduce myself and send my resume.”
The moment he gave her Chris’s email address, her fingers went flying over the keypad.
He had no idea whether they’d let her enter this late in the game, but he couldn’t help wondering what it’d mean for him. Lodging meant she’d likely live with him, since all the other houses on the property were taken. If she’d proved such a distraction in a few days, imagine an entire summer with her. More of her smooth legs curled under her as she read to Ruby on the couch, of her rocking out to some song on the radio in his truck, of watching her animated expressions as she chatted with the butcher in the grocery store.
Christ.
“Okay. Done.” She slipped her tablet back into her tote. “One of my brother’s reasons for not giving me a franchise is because the start-up costs come out of the estate which, obviously, impacts everybody. But if I come up with the money myself, he won’t be able to stop me.” Hope shone in her eyes. “I’d have to learn high altitude cooking, but do you know how fun this would be for me? I’d get to check out all the local farms and ranches and Farmers Market. You must have sustainable farms out here, right?”
“We do. But, before you get carried away, it might be too late. Like you said, the first event is at the end of this week.”
What about Ruby? He didn’t want her getting too close to their houseguest, and it would be impossible not to get attached to her. Delilah had a way about her—warm, lively—she sucked everyone into her orbit with her warmth and curiosity, her genuine interest.
“I do have the credentials, though.” She covered her mouth with a hand, eyes glittering. “Oh, my God, this would be the most amazing thing. On so many levels. I mean, even if I didn’t win, I’d still have so much fun learning about the local cuisine. And I’d get to be with Ruby. I don’t know what it is about that little girl, but she just grabbed my heart, you know? She’s so strong. I love her spirit. Ack, I’m getting carried away. I’ll shut up. I’m just so excited.” She took a step forward and then stopped. “Wait, just one more thing. What kind of lodging are we talking about? I’ve heard stories about your infamous bunkhouse.”
The bunkhouse. They’d had some wild times there. “You could talk to Chris, see what arrangements the board can make for you. Or…you could stay in the main house. With me and Ruby.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Her tone straddled the line between wary and thrilled.
“Not at all.”
She hurled herself into his arms, pressing that warm, soft body against his, and he knew in an instant he’d made a fatal mistake.
He stayed disciplined by shutting out distraction, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be able to resist this woman.
There’d be no channel to turn. It’d be the Delilah Show, twenty-four-seven.
And he couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more.
The roar of conversation hit him the minute he entered the saloon. Five tables, covered in white linen and loaded with serving dishes, lined up against the wall of windows that overlooked the mountains. The chefs chatted with guests and handed out white plates filled with steaming samples of their food.
Whether or not she got into the competition, she still wanted to meet the chefs, so he might as well introduce her to them. Then, he’d head home.
Cut it out. Will believed in honesty, so he should probably stop lying to himself. He wanted to hang out with her and, since he didn’t have to be home until his meeting with the trainer at four, he should just relax. He had all night to go over the resumes.
“Probably not the best time to meet them,” Delilah said. “But I’d love to see what they’ve made.” She broke out in a huge grin. “See who I’m competing against.”
“You do realize I have no pull in this whatsoever?”
“Oh, I know.” She turned serious. “I’m not trying to manipulate you, Will. If you want me to stop talking about it with you, I totally understand.”
“No.” He never wanted to shut down her enthusiasm. “As long as you know my world is completely separate from this, then you can talk about it all you want.”
“I do. I swear.”
“Hey, man.” An old friend from high school came up and clapped him on the shoulder, leaning in for a hug.
The look of concern made Will think he should’ve waited a few more days until the novelty of being a fucking cheater had faded before coming into town.
To hell with that. I’ve done nothing wrong. “Jimmy. How’s it going?”
“Good, good. I—”
Nope. Don’t want to hear it. “This is Delilah, Callie’s friend. She’s a chef from New York City.”
Jimmy and Delilah shook hands, but his friend swung right back to Will. “I’m gutted, man. I can’t believe what that little shit’s done to you.”
“Where I come from,” Delilah said in her sexy voice. “It’s called Small Dick Syndrome.”
Jimmy’s mouth gaped open, and then he burst out laughing. “That’s exactly right.” He draped an arm around Will’s shoulder. “We all know it’s bullshit. Just want you to know that. No one here buys it. Not for a second. Your dad was a good man. The best.”
“Yeah, he was. Thanks, man.”
“Everyone here knows how hard you and your brothers train. We know—”
“Oh, my gosh,” Delilah said. “I love this restaurant.” She gestured to the shiny brass bar, the burgundy leather booths and dark-stained wood paneling.
Affection for her blasted away his frustration. She’d read him well, and
he appreciated the shift in conversation.
“Your brother really held true to the architecture and décor of the period. It’s like I’ve gone back in time.” She gazed up at him. “Only with way better food. Do you smell that? I’m starving.”
“Jimmy, we’re going to grab some lunch. I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sure thing.” His friend returned to his booth.
“Hey, Will,” the hostess called from podium. “It’s all buffet, so grab a plate and get busy.”
He gave her a nod in thanks.
“You’re staying?” Delilah asked.
That was the thing about her, he realized. She didn’t hide her happiness. Didn’t play games. I like that. “Yeah. I’ll sit with you.”
“Cool.” She watched the chefs in pure awe. “Look at them. I mean, they’re all so out of my league and, yet, I think I could hold my own with them. I really do.” She reached for his hand, clasped it, and gave it a squeeze. “I want this. I really do. I mean, I looked at their bios on the plane, and there’s no question they’ve got way more experience.” She went rigid, her eyes wide, before breaking out in a smile. “Oh, my God.” She dug into her tote for the tablet and powered it up.
“What’s going on?”
“I got a review, from the top food critic in Manhattan. He thinks my food’s ‘magnificent.’” Pride and confidence made her rosy complexion glow.
Will wouldn’t get involved, but he sure as hell hoped the board let her into the competition. He wanted her beauty—her smile, her positive energy—in his house. In his life. “When you’re done with that, go grab some food. I’ll get us a table.”
She looked up from her screen. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.” He’d already had his protein shake. He wouldn’t eat again until noon. But she looked disappointed, so he said, “Bring me whatever meat looks good.” She’d learn pretty quickly that food was fuel to him.
“Spoken like a non-foodie. Protein and veggies. I got you.” She gave him a thoughtful expression. “You know, if you let me, I can give you exactly the kind of food you’re used to but with actual flavor. If I promise not to use butter or oil or anything like that, would you at least try something I make?”
