by Liz Isaacson
His phone rang as he loaded up his tools in the back of his truck, and he swiped on the call from Carter Quinn, an organic farmer he worked with from time to time.
“Hey, Carter,” he said.
“So it’s Cooper again….”
Knox chuckled. “All right.”
“I’m not sure where you are or when you can come.”
“I’m finishing up at Fern Hollow,” he said, closing the tail gate. “I can be out to you in just a few.”
“Thank you, Knox.” The man sounded so relieved, and Knox understood. Carter loved his horses, and they were almost like members of the family. Cooper was a special one too, and Knox got behind the wheel and turned on the heater before texting Betsy.
Heading out to your cousin’s place. Are we still on for a quick dinner? He’d made it down the dirt roads on the dude ranch to the highway before she answered.
I’m so sorry, her text said. I can’t do dinner tonight. I’m up to my elbows in frosting and it’s poker night.
Knox’s gut twisted. Poker night. Of course.
“Text Betsy Quinn,” he said to his truck.
“Ready to text Betsy Quinn,” the truck said back.
“Oh, right, poker night,” he said slowly, in a clear voice. “Well, I’ll see you later then.” He reached over and tapped the send button on the screen in his dashboard and settled in for the drive to Quinn Organics.
He’d never considered himself a jealous man before. Well, maybe a little as a teenager growing up in Logan’s perpetual shadow. His brother had never made him feel less than he was, but Knox knew he wasn’t as charismatic as his twin.
But something boiled and bubbled in his blood now. He didn’t like the fact that Betsy would be spending her evening with four other men, and he wondered what that said about his own feelings for the pretty redheaded Quinn.
Was he in love with her?
He had no idea, and luckily he had a horse to focus on to drive his confusing questions away.
Chapter 9
By the time Betsy cleaned up the kitchen, played poker, and returned to the homestead, she’d been up for nineteen hours straight. Exhaustion made her sag into bed still fully clothed, and she decided she didn’t care.
She’d been getting up early to go into the pub to use their kitchen for a couple of hours before Maggie and Bethany kicked her out. There were definite perks to being a Quinn, and the access to a bigger kitchen with ovens that could bake three times as many cupcakes in half the time was one of them.
But wow, four a.m. came really quickly, and Betsy wasn’t sure anything should be awake in so much darkness and such chilly conditions.
Her dedication to her new catering business took every spare moment she had, what with designing a logo, a website, and making a price list of dishes she could produce. She’s spent hours online looking at other caterers from around the country, and she’d learned that some only did birthday parties. Some did full-course meals. Some cooked in people’s homes, and some had industrial kitchens.
It had taken her about a week—and a lot of prayer—before she’d decided she wanted to do something that emulated the ranch that had been in her family for decades. Idaho was full of people doing chuckwagon dinners—heck, there was a dude ranch right here in the valley offering such an experience.
She’d gravitated more toward the Dutch oven dishes she was famous for in the summer. Her peach and cherry cobblers were always a big hit, and she had barbecue chicken recipes and beef short rib pots and even a pork loin she could do in a Dutch oven.
And thus, Cast Iron Catering had been born. It wasn’t really in line with the cake pops and sugar cookies she labored over in the mornings, but she decided that didn’t matter. She’d have business cards and her website completely ready for booking by the Valentine’s Festival, and then people could book her for their family events, weddings, and more.
Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she remembered she’d wanted to invite Knox to church with her this weekend. So she quickly grabbed her phone and sent him a text. Their texting sessions would sometimes go this close to midnight, and sometimes not, so she wasn’t sure if he’d be awake right now or not.
But a text came back from him with one word—Sure—and Betsy smiled up at the ceiling as she clasped her phone to her chest. She finally fell asleep with Knox’s handsome face in her mind.
Sunday dawned bright and early, but at least it wasn’t four a.m. The pub didn’t open until later on Sundays, and it would’ve been a great day to get a few extra hours of practice in. But Betsy reasoned that the Good Lord had taken a day off each week, and she could too.
She put three racks of baby back pork ribs in the Crock pot before church, and then stood in the bathroom with Jessie and Georgia, worrying over her hair.
“Why are you so fidgety?” Jessie finally asked when Betsy had elbowed her for a third time.
“Knox is coming to church today,” she said, flat ironing another lock of hair that refused to curl as much as the pieces around it. “Why is my hair doing this today?” Frustration seeped through her, and she let Jessie take the iron from her.
“So you like him,” she said.
Betsy’s eyes met Georgia’s in the mirror, and Georgia wore an intense look in hers. “I mean, yes,” Betsy said, her voice smaller than she’d like. She was older than Georgia and the other sisters, but sometimes she felt so insignificant compared to them.
Georgia smiled at her and finished her mascara. “That’s because those Locke men are amazing.” She giggled and left the bathroom as Jessie called after her.
“Don’t they have another brother?”
Georgia didn’t answer, but Betsy said, “Yes, his name is Alan. He’s taking over the potato farm.”
“Hmm,” Jessie said, finally getting the errant curl to work. “There you go, sis.”
“Who would you invite to church?” she asked, remembering how Jessie, who usually didn’t care if her hair was in a perpetual ponytail, had curled her hair a few weeks ago.
Her face colored slightly, making her freckles more prominent. “Oh, no one.”
“Mm hm,” Betsy said, glancing out the door and then pushing it closed with her foot. “You can tell me, you know. I mean, I had to talk to Georgia about dating her boyfriend’s twin. That was hard.”
“He works for us,” Jessie said in a whisper.
“So did Logan and Knox,” Betsy stage-whispered back.
“Logan did not work for us,” Jessie argued. “Georgia fake-hired him. And Knox, well, I guess he does work for us, but it’s not full-time, and it just feels different.”
“And look at all of us now.” Betsy gave her sister a so there look. Not that she and Knox were as serious as Georgia and Logan. They’d started talking about buying a ranch together and Georgia even went to a counselor now to deal with some of her past feelings from an ex-boyfriend. She wanted to be with Logan, and everyone in the family was expecting a proposal in the future.
“He has a girlfriend.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m not saying.”
“All right,” Betsy said, mentally going through each man who worked on the ranch. After all, she knew them all, fed them all. “But you can tell me, and then maybe I can help you get a date with him.”
“He has a girlfriend,” Jessie repeated, opening the door and exiting the bathroom. She paused and stuck her head back in. “But thanks, Bets.”
She stayed in the bathroom for another moment, still trying to find the right man that Jessie would have a crush on.
“Flynn,” she said. He had a new girlfriend every time they met to play poker, though. Surely Jessie knew that. Betsy would just tell her, let her know that Flynn Hollister would definitely go out with her if she asked.
The conversation had stilled her nerves for a few minutes, but with every turn of the wheels that took them closer to the little white church on the outskirts of town pushed her closer to throwing up.
She’d never
invited a man to church before, and Knox would have to be paraded in front of the whole Quinn family. Well, at least hers. And Granny and Gramps, and all of Granny’s friends…oh, yes. Several of them would say something, and Betsy was sure she’d be the topic of conversation at Granny’s mid-week luncheon with her white-haired friends.
I’m here, Knox’s text came in as Jessie turned the truck carrying her and all the sisters into the church parking lot.
Just parking, she sent back, wondering if she’d worn the wrong thing. It was winter, so it was normal to wear all black like you were attending a funeral. Right?
She walked toward the building with her sisters, all three of them chattering like they didn’t have a care in the world. Betsy felt removed from them, behind that glass window again. And then she saw Knox standing on the sidewalk, waiting for her.
He wore a pair of black slacks, those cowboy boots that she suspected were permanently glued to his feet, a black leather jacket with a white shirt peeking out, and his gray cowboy hat.
Everything inside Betsy settled into its normal rhythm, and when Knox smiled at her, fireworks popped through her system. “Ladies,” he said to her sisters with a quick nod of his hat. They twittered at him and walked on by. “And wow,” he said, scanning her from her curls to her heels. “Don’t you look beautiful?”
He swept her into his arms, making her feel cherished and safe, and kissed her temple. He adjusted his hat, took her hand, and faced the church. “I haven’t been to church in a while,” he admitted, and she heard the undercurrent of nerves in his voice.
“Well, it’s not too hard,” she said. “You just sit there. Come on.” Might as well get it over with. Show him off to everyone in town. After all, their relationship wasn’t a secret anymore.
“Yes, Maude,” Betsy said after church, her grandmother’s Wednesday brunch club all gathered around. She swept them with a single gaze. “Knox is my boyfriend.”
All the old ladies looked at him now, and he had the decency to blush. His hand in hers tightened, a silent signal for her to get him out of there.
“We have to go,” she said. “Sorry. I’m in charge of lunch at the homestead today.” Every Sabbath, but surely Granny’s friends knew that.
“And Georgia’s dating your brother, right?” Betty practically yelled, and sure enough, when Betsy checked, she didn’t see any hearing aids in Betty’s ears.
“That’s right,” Knox said, squirming a little beside her.
“Well, what do you know,” Ruby said, her voice full of surprise. “A set of twins dating a set of sisters. You don’t see that every day.”
“Oh, you see it all the time,” Granny said, shooing the other women toward the exit. “Come on, girls. I can’t stand on this incline in my heels.”
“Oh, you and your heels, Gertie,” Nellie said as she inched away from Knox and Betsy. “Why don’t you just wear flats like the rest of us?”
“My great-granddaughter dated one brother, broke up with him, and then went out with another,” Betty screeched.
“Is that so?” Ruby asked. “Well, I’ll be. I guess I should’ve looked at Darrel’s brothers before I settled for him.” That got the women laughing, but Betsy knew Ruby loved her husband.
They moved out of the chapel ahead of Betsy and Knox, who seemed rooted to the spot.
“So,” she said, gently tugging him to get him moving up the inclined aisle to the back of the chapel too. “Besides that little attack there, what did you think of church?”
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s a lot of sitting.”
She giggled, and she’d been slightly more keyed up than normal, which made listening to the sermon a bit hard. Fine, she’d barely heard a word. But she had always liked coming to church. At the very least, it was an hour away from the ranch.
Her sisters loitered in the lobby, and Betsy realized with a flash that she should’ve sent them on home without her. “Oh, you guys could’ve gone. I think I’ll ride out with Knox.” She turned and looked up at him. “You are coming to lunch this afternoon, right?”
“Is lunch part of church?”
“Of course.”
“Then, sure. I agreed to come to church.”
“Betsy made ribs,” Jessie said. “You definitely want to come.”
“And maybe you should stop by and get Logan, then,” Georgia said. “He won’t have left yet, and I invited him too.”
Betsy looked at Cami and Jessie, a wicked thought forming in her mind. “Who else wants to invite someone?” she asked.
Cami rolled her eyes and headed for the door. “I’m driving home,” she said.
Jessie gave Betsy a pointed look and said, “Look who’s acting like Granny now,” before she followed Cami.
Georgia just laughed on her way out the door. When Betsy turned back to Knox, he wore a confused look on his face.
“Granny?”
“Oh, my grandmother and her friends have a knack for setting people up,” she said. “It’s nothing.”
“Did they set us up?”
“No,” Betsy said slowly. “But it was Granny who suggested that it was okay to keep some things secret for a while. She caught me when I went out to wish you Merry Christmas.”
Knox chuckled and ducked his head against the wind as they moved into the Idaho winter. “So you’ve had a crush on me for a long time.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Like you didn’t like me for my cooking.”
“Hey,” he said a bit defensively. “Can I help it if those were the best ham sandwiches I’ve ever put in my mouth?”
She laughed, her joy fuller today than it had been in…well, ever. She rode right beside Knox as he drove over to his house, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled into the driveway that she realized she was at his house.
“You wanna come in?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
Chapter 10
Knox tried not to feel nervous about having Betsy—domestic goddess Betsy, who ran the homestead on the ranch—walking toward his house. But the two-story home hadn’t had a female touch in years, and he was sure it would be noticeable to a woman like Betsy.
They entered through the front door to find Logan asleep on the couch in the living room, a dog sprawled out on either side of him. Knox practically slammed the door, which caused Mortie to lift his head and sigh. Ruta didn’t even move, and Logan snored on.
“He’s been really busy with the addition on the library,” Knox said. “Apparently, they have to have it done by April first, or they lose some sort of grant.” He nudged his brother’s shoulder. “Logan. Wake up, bro.”
Logan snorted and shifted, his eyes coming open one millimeter at a time. “Oh, hey,” he said when he was awake enough to see Knox. “Betsy.” He scrambled up, dislodging the dogs, one of which gave another big sigh.
“You’re riding out with us to the ranch,” Knox said. “Georgia said she invited you, and it makes no sense for us both to drive out there.”
“Sounds great.” He yawned and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I suppose I should shower first. Do I have time for that?”
Knox looked at Betsy, who looked half horrified and half nonchalant. When she didn’t say anything, Knox said, “Sure. Make it fast. I think Betsy is in charge of lunch.”
“I mean, kind of,” she said, but Knox didn’t buy it.
“You put in ribs, right?”
“Yeah, but I just have to slather barbecue sauce on them and stick them under the broiler. It takes five minutes.” She wandered further into the house, almost entering the kitchen. “Jessie will make the mashed potatoes, and Georgia can slice a roll. I’ll text them.”
She pulled out her phone while Knox stepped past her and into the kitchen. At least there were no pawprints, no remnants of something the dogs had shredded, and no dirty dishes. So Logan had done something besides lie on the couch and sleep.
“You want something to drink?” he asked, nervous for a reason he couldn’t name.
“I’m okay.” She glanced up from her phone. “This is a nice place.”
“Yeah? There’s a den behind the stairs there. A bathroom. Logan and I have bedrooms upstairs.”
She trailed her fingers along the countertop and turned to beam at him. “I like it.”
“I’d think you’d be accustomed to something much bigger.”
“Sometimes the homestead is a little too big, you know?”
No, Knox did not know. But he nodded as if he did. “Are you going to do the baking for the dance at the pub? Or did you decide that the two kitchens at the homestead would work?”
“I’m going to do the cupcakes at the homestead that morning and afternoon,” she said, and Knox thought of the sheets and sheets of plans she’d shown him last week. He’d teased her and threatened to throw them in the fire in his shop, but that was only to get her to step into his arms so he could kiss her.
“And I’m going to do the sugar cookies at the pub early-early in the morning on the day of the dance.”
“I told you I’d come help.”
“I’m okay.” She smiled at him and moved over to look at the slips of paper he and Logan kept tacked to their corkboard. For some reason, it felt really personal to have her looking at his things, but he didn’t move from in front of the fridge.
“How’s the stage coming?”
“Oh, I left it to Logan. He thinks I’m good with a hammer, but only if I’m looking at a hoof.” He smiled and got a soda out of the fridge, noticing that the shower upstairs had turned off. So Logan would be ready soon. For some reason, Knox wanted to leave. He felt more comfortable with Betsy when they were out on the ranch, and he wondered what that meant. Why he felt like that. And if he’d get over it.
“What about the dance floor?” Betsy asked, coming closer to him.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Knox, you’re on the committee.”
