by Judy Angelo
When she got back she handed him broom and dustpan then got him a mop and a bucket filled with soapy water. “Knock yourself out,” she told him.
He took the cleaning supplies, looked around then let out a soft sigh. It was obvious he was tired but Blake had already set the fine for his failure to pay his bill. She wasn’t going to back down and look like a wimp just because she was feeling sorry for him. If there was one thing she’d learned, running a business in this tiny town of Pequoia, it was to stick to your guns and play tough. It was either that or become someone else’s lunch.
So she watched from behind the bar as Ryder’s muscles flexed when he pushed the mop over the floor. He’d shed his jacket and his shirt and was wearing a sleeveless undershirt that put his muscular arms and strong shoulders on display. And with that sexy distraction in plain sight there was no way Blake would be watching much T.V for the rest of the night. She was pretending to watch but she wasn’t absorbing a thing. Ryder Kent was just too hot to ignore.
Ted slept through the whole thing and it was only when Ryder’s mop bumped his chair that he jerked awake. “Yeah? What?” He blinked then straightened up and looked around, taking in the fact that the floor all around him was gleaming and wet. “Well, I’ll be a horse’s rear end. You really did come through, didn’t you, fella?” Then he chuckled and looked over at Blake. “He ain’t half bad. Hell, I wish he owed me some dough. He’d have my place spic and span in no time.”
Blake only shook her head. She knew Ted's place. A mess like the one he had in his house would be enough to kill Ryder. She wouldn’t wish that fate on her worst enemy.
When Ryder finished cleaning he took his tools outside. Blake even heard him out there at the outdoor sink, rinsing out the mop. Both she and Ted looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
“I think you found yourself a good one,” Ted said. “He don’t seem so bad, after all. Maybe he was telling the truth.”
She grimaced. “Yeah. Maybe.”
When Ryder came back into the restaurant he blinked then rubbed the back of his hand across his right eye. He looked like he was stifling a yawn. “Well, I’m all done,” he said then looked around for the shirt and jacket he’d left on the nearby chair.
“They’re on the rack,” she said. “Over there.” She pointed to his clothes hanging by the entrance.
“Thanks.” He strode over to the door then shrugged into his shirt and jacket, denying her the view she’d been enjoying all the while he’d been working. He turned toward them and drew in a breath then let it out in a heavy sigh. “Please accept my apologies for not paying my bill,” he said as he looked at Blake. “As soon as I get back I’ll send you the money. I promise.”
She shook her head. “No need. You’ve already paid. In full.”
“Thanks.” He nodded, looking like he was ready to go, but then he paused. “I wonder if you could tell me where to find a hotel?” He gave her a doubtful look. “If there’s a hotel in Pequoia?” Then he grimaced. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to hunt down this Marfa place in the middle of the night.”
Blake shook her head. “That would be a dumb idea. You couldn’t even find it in the daytime. What makes you think you’d find it at night?” Then she cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t have any money, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He fell silent.
“You can forget about Marfa. It’s your lucky night tonight.” Blake gave him a cheeky grin. “It just so happens that Beaumont’s isn’t just a pub and a restaurant. Sometimes it's a bed-and-breakfast, too, when it suits me.”
“Seriously?” Ryder looked like he didn’t believe it.
“Seriously.” Blake gave him a stern look. “You can get one of the rooms for the night,” she said, “but you’re going to have to work to pay your keep.”
Ryder grimaced and then he shook his head. “I’m so bushed I’ll agree to anything, just as long as I can get a bed for the night. Whatever you have in mind can’t be worse than what you’ve already made me do.”
“Fine. If you’ve got stuff in your truck, go get it. You’ve got yourself a room for the night.”
“Thanks.” Ryder nodded then turned and headed out the door and off to his truck.
Blake only smiled. Little did he know what lay in store. Poor thing.
CHAPTER THREE
“Yes,” she whispered as he slid his lips down the column of her slender neck. “Ooh, that feels so good.”
“Mmm.” It was a moan that came from deep within him. He wanted her so bad and although he held her in his arms he wanted more – to consume her, devour her, possess her wholly and fully.
Ryder lowered his lips to the curve of her collarbone, feeling himself grow hard as he felt the heat of her-
Bang, bang, bang. “Rise and shine. Time to get up and get going.”
“Huh? What?” The banging still pounding in his ears, Ryder jerked awake, dragging himself from under the shadowy blanket of his dream. He sat up in the bed and looked around, momentarily thrown by the unfamiliar scene around him.
And then he remembered. He was in the strange little town called Pequoia, in one of the guest bedrooms at Beaumont’s. In Blake Beaumont’s bed. Well, not literally, as much as he would have loved a dream like that to be true. It was the dream he’d just been having, a dream that had been all about her.
“Are you up?” There was another bang at the door and Blake’s voice came through to him, loud and clear.
Ryder cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m up,” he said. “What time is it?”
“Just after six o’clock,” she said. “Time to get moving.”
“Six o’clock? In the morning?”
“No, in the evening. What kind of dumb question is that? Of course, six o’clock in the morning. And we’d better get a move on it before the herd descends.”
With each of Blake’s words Ryder became more confused. He threw back the covers and got out of the four-poster bed then padded barefoot across the cold wooden floor. When he pulled the door open it was to see Blake standing there, fully dressed, looking so fresh and ready for the day it made him wonder if she’d even gone to bed at all.
“Are we going somewhere?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Down to the kitchen. This place will be full of men coming through for breakfast. We’ve got to have it ready by seven o’clock.” Then she gave him an impish smile. “Or should I say, you’ve got to have it ready? You’re the one on breakfast duty.”
"Breakfast… You mean I’m going to have to fix this breakfast you’re talking about?” Ryder stared at her, incredulous.
“Yes, sir. You promised to work off your bill for the night’s accommodation, remember? Well, this is how you’re gonna do it. You’re chef for the day.
Ryder shook his head. “But I don’t know anything about cooking breakfast for a crowd. I’ve only ever done eggs, toast and cereal.”
His declaration seemed to go in one ear and out the other. She didn’t look sympathetic at all. “Well, you’d better learn fast. If these guys don’t like your cooking you’ll hear it from them. You can trust me on that.” Then she turned to go. “Go on and clean up. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
Ryder was opening his mouth to protest but it was no use. She was already disappearing down the hallway, leaving him staring after her. He could only shake his head in disbelief. What in the world had he gotten himself into?
He didn’t have much time to ponder on his dilemma, though. From the little he already knew of Blake he could guess she would be back upstairs in exactly fifteen minutes, pounding on the door again.
How did that saying go? As you make your bed so you must lie in it. Well, he’d gone and made his bed when he’d agreed to work for his keep and he could see it was going to be a tough bed, indeed. The easy thing to do would be to back out but he’d always prided himself on his principles. He would stay and fulfill his commitment, however arduous that might be. He gritted his teeth. He was not l
ooking forward to it.
With that discouraging thought Ryder turned and went back into the bedroom, an ancient-looking place furnished with a canopied four-poster bed, a chest of drawers that looked like an antique and a low oak chest that sat at the foot of the bed. Outside of that, there were two nightstands on either side of the bed and a once colorful rug that was frayed around the edges. It looked almost as old as the town itself.
Quickly, he strode toward the chest and pulled out the supplies Blake had told him would be there and then he went back outside and down the hallway to the ‘guest’ bathroom. That was a generous way of putting it but it made him feel better to think of it in those terms. The plumbing was so ancient he was surprised it actually worked. Pulling on a chain attached to an elevated tank when you had to flush? Ice-cold water flowing through the tap? If he hadn’t been experiencing it first-hand he wouldn’t have believed it. In a developing country, maybe, but the good old U.S. of A.? Sheesh.
Blake had given him fifteen minutes but Ryder was ready in twelve and then, dressed in fresh shirt and trousers but with his denim jacket to shield him from the chilly morning air he descended, not looking forward to the task that lay ahead but not able to do a thing except face his new reality.
“Finally,” Blake said as he stepped inside the kitchen. “I was just getting ready to douse you with a bucket of water.”
“You said fifteen minutes,” Ryder said in his defense. “It’s not even that time yet.”
“You’re sure?” Blake looked at him askance. “I thought I said ten.” Then she stepped behind him and before he knew what was happening she’d tied a frilly white apron around his waist. “Anyway, you’re here now so let’s get you started.” She stepped back. “We usually have about fifteen to twenty men passing through between seven and eight o’clock. This is my busiest time of day.”
“Fifteen to twenty men? You have that many people in this town?”
Blake laughed. “Don’t you underestimate our Pequoia,” she said. “And anyway, some of them aren’t from here. They come in to help work the farms. We haven’t got that many young men who can help out as field hands so we import them from neighboring towns.” She shrugged. “They’re here working in the daytime but by nightfall they’re gone.”
“And who could blame them?” Ryder said the words under his breath, so softly only he could hear.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Blake regarded him with narrowed gaze but said nothing. Then she jerked her chin toward the stove. “Okay, let’s get moving.”
The stove was an ancient-looking contraption, a gas-powered device with monstrously large burners. A massive frying pan was on the front burner and to the back of it sat a deep pot, one you could bathe a small child in.
“That’s for the grits,” Blake said. “You’ll do that with bacon and eggs today. Since you’re new I’ll handle the pancakes.”
“Grits…” He looked around, feeling lost. He’d had grits before but had he ever made the thing? He didn’t even know where to start. “Uhm, what…do I do first?”
Blake gave him a look of impatience. “First you wash your hands and then you come here so I can show you.” When he didn’t jump at her command she gave him a slight shove toward the sink. “Move it. We haven’t got all day.”
Ryder could have given her a ready answer to that one but he let it slide. Biting his tongue, he did as he was told and was soon by her side. It wasn’t easy, filling this role of badgered employee. He had to chuckle to himself. This was a far cry from being the owner of a billion-dollar enterprise. Talk about a humbling experience.
“Something funny?” Blake was looking at him like his soft chuckle annoyed her.
His smile widened but he shook his head. “No, just remembering something.”
“Okay, then.” She turned and picked up a huge bag of grits. “Let’s get started.”
Within minutes Blake had him stirring the stuff in the massive pot of boiling water.
“Don’t let it clump up,” she called out to him, her voice muffled as she stuck her head inside the cavernous refrigerator. When she backed out and straightened up she was holding a double-decker tray of eggs. “You do the eggs while I do the pancakes.”
“But I’m stirring grits. I’ve only got so many hands.” Ryder didn’t stop stirring.
“Well, let them work for you, darn it. Hurry up with the grits so you can scramble some eggs. The guys will be bursting through the door before you know it.” She deposited the eggs on the counter beside him and pointed to the big black frying pan. “Scramble them with milk so they’ll be nice and fluffy. And don’t you dare burn them.” The last words were spoken with her index finger pointed accusingly at his face.
And he hadn’t even done anything. Not yet, anyway.
One hand still stirring the pot of grits, Ryder reached over and turned on the front burner then grabbed the nearby stick of butter and dropped a generous chunk into the pan.
“Not too much, now.” Blake didn’t stop as she filled her pan with pancake mix. “And you’ve got to beat the milk into the eggs first.”
Ryder looked from grits to frying pan and back again. Something would have to give. It was his judgment call to make and he made it quickly, pulling the wooden spoon out of the pot of grits and dropping it onto an empty plate then grabbing the bowl Blake had left on the counter. The grits would have to fend for itself for a while. A butter-filled frying pan sitting on a hot burner was not something you kept waiting.
Quickly, he cracked a dozen of the eggs on the side of the bowl then beat furiously as he hurried to the fridge to grab some milk. Before he even got back to the counter he was pouring and whisking, beating the mixture into a frothy lather. With the butter melted and nice and hot he began to pour the mixture onto the sizzling surface then he stood back and watched with satisfaction as it coagulated before his eyes.
And that was when he smelled it. Burning grits. He’d forgotten he was supposed to be stirring, too. Darn. He’d never been good at multitasking. His eyes never leaving the eggs, he grabbed the wooden spoon and got to stirring.
Blake grimaced at him, eyes narrowed, but she never said a word.
Glad that his new ‘boss’ hadn’t chewed him out Ryder turned one hundred percent of his attention to the task at hand, alternating between grits and eggs then scooping piles of the fluffy yellow mixture into a bowl. Soon he was cracking another dozen eggs and starting the whipping process all over again. Through it all he kept stirring, grabbing his wooden spoon every other minute. From that point on he never forgot his grits again.
He was so caught up in his work that he gave a start of surprise when he turned to find Blake standing right beside him. In her eyes was a look of grudging admiration.
“Not bad,” she said with a slow nod as she stared at his mountain of soft gold.
Ryder gave her a quick grin, something akin to a smirk. “Where are your troops?” he asked. “Bring them on.”
“They’ll be here soon,” she said, turning to pour pancake mix on the griddle. “Don’t you worry about that.”
She was right. She must have left the front door open because at exactly seven o’clock he heard the tinkle of the bells indicating that someone had just stepped into the restaurant, and it wasn’t just one tinkle, either. After the first there was a second then a third and a fourth in quick succession and soon the place was abuzz with the sound of men greeting one another in the early morning breakfast hour.
Between Blake and Ryder they now had three stacks of pancakes, a huge bowl of fluffy yellow eggs and a pot full of steaming grits. Blake had taken charge of the bacon and that was ready, too, along with the coffee and tea that Ryder had prepared.
“We make a great team,” Blake told him as she gazed at their handiwork. “This is the first morning I’m actually ready for these guys.”
At her words a frisson of pride ran through him like he’d just won some kind
of award. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said. “This is a lot of work for a woman alone.”
Blake shrugged. “You do what you’ve got to do.” Like those words were a signal for her to do just that she turned and walked toward the swinging doors leading into the restaurant, leaving Ryder staring after her.
He was smiling as he shook his head. He’d passed Blake’s first test – or was this the second – and he had no doubt she had other surprises up her sleeve.
But as far as he was concerned, if she had more tests to throw his way, she could just bring them on.
***
It had been an exhausting morning with Ryder piling huge ladles of grits onto plates, with scrambled eggs and strips of bacon. The pancakes went pretty fast and Blake soon found herself back in the kitchen making another stack, then another. Before the morning was over she’d made nine stacks in all. Something weird must have happened that morning because the crowd that descended on Beaumont’s was like none she’d ever seen before. She saw faces she hadn’t seen in ages. Some of them, she’d never even seen before. Had they all heard she had a new helper and had come out of sheer curiosity? Whatever it was, she was glad for the business. And as for the crowd, she didn’t know what she would have done if she hadn’t had Ryder hustling right by her side.
As she climbed into her Ford F-150 Blake smiled to herself. Ryder had surprised her, and in a pleasant way. Who would have thought a smooth-looking dude like that would have turned out to be a reliable workhorse? And he wasn’t too bad in the kitchen, either. Maybe she should hold on to him.
But that thought made Blake’s smile falter then wither away. It was just such a situation that had made her lose her faith in men. There was one she’d known who had been just as charming, just as impressive, and she’d fallen for the act, hook, line and sinker.
Never again. Neither her business nor her heart would be able to survive another such assault.
