Cowboy to the Rescue

by Trish Milburn

  “I shouldn’t have assumed I was just cooking for two,” she said.

  “Mom didn’t tell you how many to cook for?” That was odd.

  “She got a phone call she had to take when we were talking, and then headed over to the office. I guess she just forgot when she got busy, and I assumed when she said ‘just the family,’ she meant her and your father.”

  Ryan stared into the fridge, not seeing any 7-Up. He grabbed an orange soda instead and closed the door. When he turned around, she—whatever her name was—was eyeing the chicken and chewing on her lip.

  “Seven adults, one six-year-old boy.”

  Her gaze met his, and for some reason he got the feeling that part of her was somewhere else. “Huh?”

  “That’s how many you’re cooking for.”

  She exhaled as though she’d been holding her breath. “Oh, thanks. That helps.”

  They stared at each other until it grew awkward. She broke eye contact first, picking up a pen and pad from a basket on the island.

  “Well, good luck,” he said, then headed toward the back door that led outside.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded then hurried outside, overcome with the need for fresh air, to not be trapped in the kitchen with a nameless woman who’d caused his system to jump off its normal, everyday rails with one look of her big, brown eyes. Doe eyes.

  After he stalked several yards away, he stopped and looked back at the house.

  What had caused him to react to her that way? It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen a beautiful woman. He couldn’t remember ever fleeing from one before as if she was a giant spider on the verge of capturing him in a web.

  Choco nuzzled his hand, looking for more affection. Ryan gave the dog what he wanted without even looking. The longer he stood in the middle of the driveway, the more realization sank in.

  He was attracted to the mystery woman in his mother’s kitchen. Really attracted. Other than panic and fear from his nightmares, he hadn’t felt anything that strongly since he’d come home. And that frightened him more than facing armed insurgents.

  BROOKE KEPT LISTING possible dishes to make for dinner, then crossing them off—too fancy, too country, too exotic, always too something. It didn’t help that she kept glancing at the back door, wondering if Ryan Teague might reappear.

  She shook her head and pressed her palm against her forehead. Daydreaming about a tall Texan with blue-green eyes so striking she’d momentarily forgotten how to speak wasn’t going to help her get this job. Focusing on him instead of her task would probably ensure she didn’t.

  Another look at her list gave her an entirely new idea. Two menus. Two different menus to show her versatility.

  Twice as much work.

  But twice the opportunity to showcase her skills, and worth it if she secured the position.

  She located and mixed ingredients for spiced pork chops with butternut squash, filet mignon with twice-baked potatoes, orange-juice cake and caramel brioche. And to cater to the child Ryan had mentioned, she whipped up some fancy cupcakes that, she had to admit, were almost too pretty to eat. As she arranged them on a serving tower, she wondered if the little boy was his.

  Not important.

  The minutes ticked ever closer to six o’clock, but she squeezed them for all they were worth. By the time she was done, she had enough food to feed a platoon of hungry stomachs.

  Only when she stopped to take a breath did she realize no one had entered the kitchen since Ryan had left. And she felt she knew the Teagues’ kitchen as well as the one she’d cooked in for the past year.

  Now that the food was prepared and the table set, she had to make herself as presentable as she could in, oh, three minutes. She hurried to the bathroom located down the hall, smoothed her hair, dusted the flour off her red blouse, washed the sheen of exertion from her face and reapplied a touch of blusher.

  When she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t think she showed any of the desperation rumbling inside her like a different type of hunger.

  “Stop worrying,” she told her reflection. “You can do this.” With a deep, fortifying breath, she retraced her steps to the kitchen, arriving just as a little boy barreled through the back door.

  The miniature cowboy skidded to a halt and stared up at her. “Are you Brooke?” he asked as several more people arrived for dinner.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He smiled. “You’re pretty.”

  A few laughs bubbled up from a couple of guys who appeared to be a few years older than her.

  “I thought you didn’t like girls yet,” one of them said, teasing evident in his words to the boy.

  “But my nephew is right,” the other man said as he looked at Brooke.

  She couldn’t meet the man’s eyes, so she focused on the little boy. “Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself.”

  He blushed and scuffed his booted toe against the floor. What an adorable kid.

  The boy’s uncle scooped up the boy. “You gotta wait your turn with the pretty ladies, Evan.” The guy tipped his hat and winked at her. “Simon Teague, ma’am.”

  She managed a smile, though she feared it wavered. “Brooke Vincent. Nice to meet you.” Simon topped her by several inches, and he had an air of command and authority about him that had her edging away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  That’s when her gaze found Ryan stepping into the room alongside his mom and an older man who must be his father. The elder man was the spitting image of a lifelong cowboy—tanned, lines next to his eyes from squinting into the bright sun, gray hair but still handsome. Like the Marlboro Man when he became a grandfather.

  Ryan was just as tall as the rest of the men, but his presence didn’t overwhelm her like Simon’s had. She couldn’t pinpoint why his appearance calmed her blazing nerves, especially when earlier he’d made her all kinds of nervous, but it did. She smiled at him in unconscious gratitude.

  Merline Teague clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone, I see you’ve noticed we’ve got a new face in the kitchen. Brooke has applied to fill the cook’s post, and she’s giving us a sampling of her culinary skills tonight.”

  “Looks like she’s planning to feed all of Blue Falls,” said the man who had teased little Evan about liking girls. By the way he stood close behind the other woman in the room, she’d guess they were a couple and maybe Evan’s parents.

  “You do know this isn’t fair, Mom,” Simon said. “You never had Trudy cook on family night.”

  “Trudy would have told me to go jump in the lake. I figure I have a narrow window of opportunity here.”

  Everyone laughed, and Brooke felt she was the one person not in on the joke. Did Merline mean she was leaning toward giving her the job and she figured Brooke would soon set limits on her work? She resisted the urge to tell Merline that she’d cook every meal every day if the agony of not knowing could just end.

  As the laughter died down, Merline caught Brooke’s eye. “Now, let’s quit the silliness and let Brooke tell us about what she’s made.”

  Brooke took a breath and dived in. “I’ve prepared two types of menus—one simple and comforting, the other a bit fancier. You could use the latter for special occasions, like if you were hosting an anniversary party or wedding.” She proceeded to tell them about each of the dishes, drawing nods and sounds of appreciation. She hoped they liked everything as much after they tasted it.

  “Let’s eat. I’m starving.” This came from the elder Mr. Teague.

  As everyone filed through, filling their plates, Merline stationed herself next to Brooke and introduced her to everyone as they passed by.

  “Simon’s already introduced himself,” she said when the flirty cowboy paused in front of them to
nab a piping-hot yeast roll.

  “What, you’re not going to tell her how wonderful I am?” He smiled as he wrapped his free arm around his mom’s shoulders.

  Merline looked at Brooke. “This one doesn’t have a problem with self-confidence.”

  “Hmm. I think I’ve just been insulted,” he said.

  Merline patted his cheek. “Not at all, dear. Now quit holding up the line.”

  Simon shot Brooke another smile and winked a blue-gray eye at her before heading for the table.

  Next, she met Nathan and Grace, Evan’s parents, who were newlyweds despite Evan’s age.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Grace said. “It’ll be good to have another woman around here. We’re a bit overrun with testosterone.”

  “And you love it,” Nathan said as he bumped the side of her hip with his own, causing Grace to smile up at him.

  A pang hit Brooke at how in love these two obviously were. Once upon a time, she’d dreamed of that kind of love for herself.

  “And this here is our youngest, Ryan,” Merline said as Nathan followed Grace to the dining room and Ryan took their place in front of Brooke.

  She had trouble maintaining eye contact with him. Again, she wondered how a man could calm her and make her nervous at the same time.

  “We’ve met,” she said.

  She noticed the slight widening of Merline’s eyes. “You have?”

  Ryan glanced from Brooke to his mother. “Yeah. I ran out of drinks, came up here to get one.”

  Merline shifted her attention to Brooke. There was something seeking in her expression, making it difficult to not squirm. With a slight nod to Brooke, Ryan made his way toward the dining room, as well, to be replaced by his father.

  “This is my husband, Hank.”

  Brooke looked up into the face that was an older version of his three sons. He extended his hand, which Brooke accepted and shook.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Merline has been working too hard lately.”

  Everyone was acting as if she already had the job. Did they know something she didn’t?

  Merline waved away her husband’s worry and shoved him gently toward the dining room before filling her own plate.

  Brooke eyed the people sitting around the table, noticed that two empty seats remained.

  “Are you expecting someone else?” she asked Merline.

  “No, everyone’s here.”

  “Oh, I could have sworn Ryan said there’d be seven adults.”

  Merline glanced at the table. “He was counting you too, honey.”

  A jolt hit Brooke. Honey. She could still hear her mother calling her the same thing, and missed it terribly.

  The idea that the Teagues expected her to eat with them hadn’t even entered her mind. She was the potential help and had planned to nibble on leftovers after they were finished.

  “I don’t want to intrude on your family night.”

  “It’s not an intrusion if we invite you.” Merline caught Brooke’s gaze again. “Seems you and Ryan talked about several things.”

  Something about the way Merline spoke had Brooke’s instinct for caution firing. “Just about the number for dinner since I forgot to ask you.”

  “He should have also made clear that we don’t expect you to cook and not eat.”

  Now that Merline had put the idea of eating in her head, Brooke realized how hungry she was. As if to put an exclamation point on that thought, her stomach growled.

  Merline laughed. “Go on and fill a plate.”

  As Brooke did exactly that, she wondered if the now-retired Trudy had ever eaten with the family. And if not, why was Merline suddenly changing things? Or maybe Trudy had just had a family of her own to get home to, something very much absent from Brooke’s life.

  When she finished filling her plate, she turned toward the dining room. Awkwardness cut through her like a chilly wind off the Potomac River.

  Merline waved her toward a chair between Evan and his uncle Simon. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

  “Yeah. Shy doesn’t work around here,” Simon said.

  When she took her seat, she looked up and realized Ryan was sitting directly across from her. He averted his eyes, as if she’d caught him watching her.

  Or maybe she was just letting paranoia get the better of her, something she’d sworn not to let happen. Whether or not she got this job, she was starting a new life. And she refused to let the old one have control over her anymore.

  Despite her determination, however, she still froze when Simon grabbed her hand.

  “Oh my God, marry me.”

  The comment and look of ecstasy on his face hit her as so ridiculous that she laughed—a short burst that escaped before she could stop it.

  “What?” Simon asked. “This is the best thing I’ve tasted in…ever.”

  “Hey!” Merline said.

  “Except your food, of course,” he quickly added.

  “Well, that’s it, I’m afraid,” Merline said. “Can’t have that kind of competition.”

  Brooke’s heart sank. After all her work, she would leave this ranch as broke as she’d arrived here. More days or weeks living off of her savings.

  Simon squeezed her hand and leaned closer. “She’s just kidding.”

  Brooke turned her attention to Merline for confirmation.

  Merline grinned with mischief. “I am kidding. How can I not hire you? You’ve already got at least one of my sons proposing marriage.”

  Everyone laughed, including Brooke. She used the moment to pull her hand free of Simon’s. He seemed like a nice guy, funny, handsome, but she wasn’t going down that road again anytime soon. Maybe ever.

  “Thank you,” she said to Merline.

  “You might not be thanking me after a few more days with this bunch.”

  But as she looked around the table, at the smiling and teasing and obvious love, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. If she couldn’t have that kind of life herself, she could at least bask in the reflected glow of people who did.

  When her gaze met Ryan’s again, he offered a momentary smile before returning his attention to the food on his plate. Maybe she was crazy, but she had the oddest feeling he’d been staring at her as she was focused in other directions. Her skin warmed at the thought that, as soon as she lowered her gaze, he might do so again.

  And part of her really liked the idea that he might want to.

  Chapter Two

  It took more effort than he was used to expending, but Ryan did his best not to pay undue attention to Brooke. Or to the way his mother kept watching him, as if she knew he was attracted to the new cook. Just last week, Simon and he had lamented their mother’s increased interest in matchmaking for her two unattached sons on the heels of Nathan’s marriage to Grace.

  “She thinks she’s one of Cupid’s minions,” Simon had said as they sat on the corral fence after dinner one night.

  “Yeah. She’s been bitten by the grandma bug.”

  “And I don’t think Nathan and Grace having another baby on the way is going to be enough to satisfy her. We better keep on our toes and prepare to run fast.”

  They’d laughed at the time, but now he wondered if Simon had changed his mind. Granted, his oldest brother was the family flirt, but he sure seemed to be trying extra hard this time. That whole impromptu marriage proposal had been a bit over the top, even for Simon.

  Ryan tried to ignore the fact that it annoyed him.

  Fact was, he should encourage Simon. Brooke seemed nice, could cook like a taste bud’s dream come true, and was pretty. No, she was more than pretty. But he was afraid to put a name to how he thought she looked. He didn’t want to risk wan
ting something he couldn’t have. Shouldn’t have.

  And the last thing any woman needed in her life was him.

  “Ryan, why don’t you help Brooke with the dishes?” his mom said as they all began scooting away from the table.

  “Oh, I’ll do it,” Grace said.

  “Nonsense. You worked hard all day.”

  Ryan thought about how he’d worked nearly nonstop since daybreak, but he didn’t point out that fact, didn’t even meet his mom’s eyes. Objecting would just draw more attention to the situation and give his mom fuel for her matchmaking fire.

  “Sure.” He stood and started collecting dishes.

  When Brooke joined him in the kitchen, she started loading the dishwasher as he scraped what little was left on the plates into the trash.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “Go on and be with your family.”

  “I’d rather do this. I think Mom has a Scrabble tournament planned.”

  “I heard that,” Merline called out from the dining room. “Don’t think either one of you is getting out of it.”

  He caught the surprise on Brooke’s face that was coated with a layer of fatigue. With a lowered voice, he said, “Don’t feel you have to stay.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s good to get to know everyone I’ll be interacting with.”

  Working together, they finished the cleaning by the time his mom got the Scrabble board set up.

  “How are we doing teams this time?” Simon asked as he stepped over Nathan’s outstretched legs and took a seat in the living area.

  “Guys versus girls,” Grace said.

  “Oh, no,” Nathan said. “You all killed us last time.”

  Grace smiled wide. “That’s why I like that team structure.”

  “How do you think we should divide?” his mom asked, looking at Brooke.

  “Uh…names in a hat?”

  “Well, we got plenty of hats,” his dad said, grabbing his from the rack by the front door. He tossed it bottom up on the coffee table made from a slab of a huge tree trunk polished to a high shine.