by Sienna Ciles
In New York, it’d had been all work and no play, not even with Bryan, who’d been too busy for anything fun.
“Ah, it’s a habit I got into when I stayed in New York.”
“You’re kidding,” I said. “When?”
“Back when I was studying about six years ago.”
Six years ago, I’d been on my way into college, set to meet Bryan and elope.
We entered the kitchen and my eyes went round. There’s an old saying that goes ‘there’s one way to a man’s heart, and that’s through his stomach.’ If I amended the saying, it could apply to me – the way to my heart was through an amazing kitchen where I could create wonders, and that was exactly what Joshua had here.
Gas burners, a massive steel fridge, plenty of counters, a center island complete with a sink, a dishwasher, and an industrial standard mixer. My eyes practically glazed over at the sight of it all.
“You okay?” Joshua asked, waving a hand at me.
“Sorry, I – it’s just a really nice kitchen.”
The corner of his mouth twisted upward in that trademark half-smile, and my insides fluttered. “Right,” he said, “you’re a chef. Yeah, I’ve been trying my hand at cooking. I thought it’s never too late to learn. Maybe you can give me some advice.”
I’d worked in a Michelin-star restaurant but the thought of that made me nervous. Food was effortless. Delicious. Feelings weren’t, and the fluttering made me want to sprint out of here all over again. “Sure, that would be… fine.”
“You don’t have to,” he said and walked over to the fridge. He opened it and brought out a beer. “Want one?”
“Yeah, why not?”
He popped the cap, then handed the bottle over and got one for himself.
“So, you studied in New York,” I said. “Anywhere I’d be familiar with?”
It was his turn to blush, apparently. He ran his thumb down the side of the bottle, glugged some back, then put it down and turned to the fridge again. “What do you feel like eating?” He asked. “I make a mean BLT. Kidding, what about spaghetti carbonara?”
“That sounds great,” I said. He’d totally just avoided the question. “And I did ask you a question. Would you like to answer it or just pretend to be mute?”
Joshua jerked around, cream butter and bacon in his hands. “Yeah, sorry. I usually avoid that topic. Folks around here looked at me different if I mention it.”
“Why?”
“I went to Harvard,” he said. “I got my MBA. No one expected me to come back to Hope Creek, I guess.”
“I see.” Though, I didn’t see at all.
“I don’t mean to be short; it’s just something that I – look, I wouldn’t be here and in this house if it wasn’t for Harvard but it’s not something I like to discuss with anyone. There’s some stuff that happened.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “Sorry, I was just curious. I get pushy when I’m curious.”
“It’s no big deal,” he said, and set about making the food. Soon the smell of sizzling bacon filled the air. He flipped the slices and avoided my eye.
Shit, I’d really put him off with my hard line of questioning. How could I make this right? Why did I want to? “I didn’t study anywhere Ivy League,” I said. “Just the Culinary Institute.”
“That is fancy,” he said and frowned at the cream. “At least, it is to me. Say, would you mind helping me with the sauce? I screwed it up the last time.”
“Sure, no problem.” I moseyed on around to his side of the work station and stopped beside him. Our arms touched for the briefest moment and electricity zipped through me. I sucked in a breath and covered it by coughing. “So, I hope you don’t mind me asking but why did you come back?”
“I wanted to be a farmer,” he replied, grabbing an apron from a hook on the wall. He helped me into it, too close for any form of comfort, his fingers fumbling to tie the strings at my back. “I’ve always loved it out here. Sometimes, I figure it’s in my blood.”
He finally stepped away, then leaned forward and peered up at my face. “A ranch hotel, huh? I hadn’t heard that one before.” Another heartache-inducing smile.
“Just what popped into my head. It definitely stands out,” I said, moving the bacon off the heat and turning the knob on the burner. “I don’t want to pry but—”
“I created a system that allows water out on the farmland to be recycled. It helps farmers keep their crops watered during the harshest times. It was something my father was passionate about. I ended up building a system and getting a patent on it. I wanted to give back to the farmers, people like my dad.”
“Wow,” I said. That was seriously admirable. “That’s… good for you.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged. “No big deal. Now, back to this carbonara.” He shifted his gaze from me to the burners, conversation over.
Was he this closed off about everything? Ugh, it didn’t matter if he was. This was just one night. Just one night of relaxed chatter and food with a friend. No, a person I barely knew who I’d helped out.
After today, I probably wouldn’t see him again. I doubted we ran in the same circles – mine being more of a dot and consisting of myself alone – and he certainly hadn’t come into Hope Creek in the last month or I’d have heard the resulting ripples of gossip in the diner.
“So, what about you?” he asked. “What brings you to Hope Creek?”
“Me?” I reached for the cream. “I’m just here for the food.”
Joshua wasn’t the only one who liked his privacy.
Chapter 4
Joshua
Last night had been amazing. I’d probably scared her with all my silences and stares but I couldn’t help it. Eve was a classic beauty, intelligent, and amazing in the kitchen. The carbonara had turned out mouth-wateringly good. I’d eaten three-quarters of the damn pot by myself.
Now, my truck rattled down the dirt road toward Hope Creek, right on the tail of Eve’s. She’d reappeared from her guestroom this morning in the same dress as yesterday but showered, her hair tousled and wet.
I couldn’t stop myself from picturing it caught between my fingers, and how good she’d smell with my lips pressed against her skin. God damn, it’d been a long time since I’d thought about a woman this way.
We hit the paved road and headed toward the town’s main inlet – a single road that ran right down the center, connecting the Welcome to Hope Creek signs. Everything in between was good folk and stores, houses, quaint yards, the church, and a park.
Eve pulled up in front of the Cowboys n’ Cuts Restaurant and got out of her truck.
I parked right beside her, then rolled down my window. “Thanks for yesterday,” I said.
She nodded and scuffed the sole of her boot on the sidewalk. “No problem. I’m sure you would’ve done the same thing given the circumstance.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have driven over you first.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I’m kidding,” I said and cut the engine. I got out of the truck. “Think I’ll grab a coffee to go in there, while I’m at it.” The noon day sun had reached its zenith, and I broiled under the rim of my cowboy hat.
“Sure,” she said, and shrugged those tanned shoulders. She headed for the front of the diner and I followed her, watching her walk, the gentle swish of her summer dress at the backs of her knees.
She pushed open the diner’s glass door and the OPEN sign clacked against the door.
The scent of cooking burgers, coffee, and waffles slapped me in the face, taunting me for skipping out on breakfast this morning.
“About time you got here!” a man yelled from the kitchen window, eyes narrowed at Eve.
“Relax, Bob, my shift doesn’t technically start for another five minutes,” Eve called out. She smiled at one of the waitresses – a young woman with bright red hair and freckles – then gave me a nod. “Thanks for everything,” she said.
“Any time,” I replied. I had more to say but
Eve had already dismissed me. She swept around the counter and toward the open archway that led into the kitchen. I watched her go, mouth still open.
“You okay there, Mr. Jackson?” The redhead, Cassidy, stopped beside the counter and put down a tray with an empty milkshake glass wobbling atop it. “Can I get you anything?”
“Yeah, actually. I’d love a coffee to go,” I said.
“And in this heat? You’re brave. Guess that’s what you high-powered business types need, ain’t it?” Cassidy rushed around to the coffee pot behind the counter, then whipped out a to-go cup and poured. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Just some sugar, thanks,” I said. “And I wouldn’t call it high-powered. I’m just a regular farmer.”
“A farmer, maybe.” Cassidy’s green eyes twinkled with unspoken secrets. “But you’re probably what most folks consider irregular.”
“Now, that’s how I love to start my day. Coffee and a compliment.” I took the cup from her and dug around in my pocket for change.
“I didn’t mean any offense,” Cass replied. “But listen, it’s on the house.”
“No way.” I felt for a couple bills and drew them out.
“I’m serious.” Cassidy tapped the side of her nose and cast a glance over her shoulder at the kitchen window, now empty of both Bob and Eve. “You can pay me another way.”
“Uh?”
“Yeah, you can pay me by taking Eve out on a date,” she said. “Unless, that was what you two were doing before you came in. I hear you broke down yesterday and she saved your butt.”
“News sure travels fast,” I said, and this when I hadn’t been in town for months, unless it was to stop off at the General Store and grab a couple must-have items. I’d figured all the rumors and musings about the recluse billionaire would’ve died down by now. A vain hope, apparently.
“Well?” Cassidy wriggled her nose from side-to-side.
“What?”
“Was it a date?”
“No,” I said. Last night had been amazing but it wouldn’t be what I’d have done for Eve on a first date.
“Then take her on one,” Cassie said. “She’s been through a lot, and she hasn’t got many friends. Shoot, I think I’m her only one, kind of. We’re getting there.”
“And you’re taking it upon yourself to set her up?” I asked.
“There aren’t that many eligible men in Hope Creek. Unless you want me to ask Luke, and that jackass ain’t worth my trouble, let alone hers.”
I shoved the dollars back into my pocket and stared the waitress down. “You’re serious about this.”
“I am,” Cassidy said. “At least, think about it.”
Eve appeared in the window, outfitted in chef’s whites now. She knocked the bell on the counter. “Order up,” she called.
“Coming,” Cassie said, then lowered her voice again. “Consider it.” She rushed off before I could give her an answer, and a good thing, too, since I didn’t have one that wouldn’t embarrass the hell outta me.
Yes, Eve was stunning but she was also… removed. I sensed rejection on the air when I pictured asking her out. Not that I was afraid of striking out before I played the game. I just didn’t want to make her feel pressured.
I’d felt it every day in my life, and the last thing I’d do was put that type of pressure on anyone else.
I sipped my coffee, spared a final glance for Eve, who didn’t meet my eye, then headed for the door and out into the Texas sunshine. Without the hat, my damn face surely would’ve melted off.
I dragged my car keys out of my pocket and pressed the button on the remote. The truck’s lights flashed.
“Still driving around in that fancy Ford, I see.” A man spoke behind me.
I turned and grinned at Old Harry, the town’s favorite grumpy farmer. He was Hope Creek’s answer to a granddad to everyone, the one who lovingly disapproved of everything you might even think of doing wrong.
“Harry,” I said, and drew him into a one-armed hug. “How are you, you old coot.”
“Who are you calling old, boy?” Harry pulled back and whacked me on the back of the head with his peak cap. “You’re not too far off my age.”
He was fifty years my senior, clocking in at eighty and still breathing. Still thriving. “How have you been?” I repeated.
“Oh, good, fine. Doctor says I’ve got to back off the eggs and bacon on account of my high cholesterol, and I told him if I die because of eggs and bacon that’s fine by me.”
“What?”
“Well, you see, it all comes down to the fact that I’d rather not live if I’ve got to do it without eggs and bacon in the morning,” Harry said. “It’s why I’m here.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the Cowboys n’ Cuts. “I figure I’ve only got a couple years left in me anyway. Why the hell I want to spend ‘em eating nothing but carrots and bird food is beyond me.”
“Sheesh, Harry, just how many eggs do you eat a day?”
“Don’t matter,” he said. “Now, was that the chef I saw you speaking to before? The new pretty one?”
A car door slammed behind us but neither of us turned. “Eve,” I said, and her name made my brain bubble. “Yeah, she helped me out yesterday. I got trapped on the road to Heather’s Forge.”
Harry sucked his teeth. “Oh, yeah, that’ll happen. Well, she’s lovely, isn’t she? Pretty girl. And she’s amazing cook. You ever think of settling down, Joshua? I know most of the girls around here would lose their minds if you put the word out that you’re looking.”
“I –” What could I say? I was technically on the lookout for the future Mrs. Jackson but I certainly wasn’t about to induce a mass influx of women bearing lasagnas and baked goods to my ranch. That still happened on occasion.
I was tired of people trying to set me up. I wanted to find the woman I needed on my own. Shoot, even Cassidy’s play in the diner had made me feel awkward and I actually liked Eve.
Harry punched me on the shoulder. “Still sowing those wild oats, I see.”
I opened my mouth to protest but choked on the effusive scent of rose petals instead. The musk perfume I associated with blind panic made my eyes tear up.
Faith Stone stepped up beside me. “Wild oats?” she asked, and flicked her platinum blond hair. Skinny as a rake, no curves to speak of but toned as if she spent each day with a personal fitness trainer. She made my balls curl up and crawl back inside my body.
When I’d first arrived in Hope Creek, she was the woman who’d put me off the proverbial search for a good two months. She’d actually come knocking during the early hours of the morning and… propositioned me. She also happened to be my ex – college had been a long time ago but she hadn’t forgotten it.
I’d shut the door in her face and received a nasty message from Lee-Roy Stone, the second wealthiest man in Texas the following day. He was a big-time rancher, and he’d do anything to make his daughter happy, including trying to buy her way into my bed and a marriage proposal.
Christ, it was a miracle the man hadn’t suggested a dowry.
“I’d better go,” Harry said, shuffling off toward his promised bacon and eggs breakfast. He liked Faith about as much as he liked his new doctor, no doubt.
“What’s this about oats?” Faith asked, adjusting her tight pink tube top. Her breasts jiggled and I made a strong point of not looking at them. God, I didn’t want to give this woman the wrong idea.
“Nobody told you it’s rude to interrupt a conversation?”
“Sorry, hon, I heard something about the diner and that new chef, and I figured there might be some good gossip on offer,” Faith replied, smiling at me.
My stomach turned. By any other man’s standards, she was a total beauty. Statuesque and gorgeous. “I don’t gossip,” I said, stiffly.
“All right, all right, no need to be touchy.” She brushed my forearm with her fingertips. “But I should warn you that the woman in there, the new chef? She’s a heartbreaker, or so I heard. She dumped the last
man she was with and left him with nothing. Apparently, they were married and she had an affair. Be careful.”
“You have a good day, Faith,” I said, extricating myself from her grip. I marched to the truck and ignored the hot glare on my neck – her eyes boring into me.
I had to take what she’d said with a pinch of salt. Faith was hardly a reliable source in Hope Creek. She’d talk smack about anything that moved and dared get in her path.
But still, an inkling of doubt nudged me. A concern that maybe, just maybe, Eve wasn’t as amazing as she seemed. After all, the thought of running into an eligible woman I was this attracted to in Hope Creek seemed too good to be true.
Life had taught me that everything came at a cost. Even love.
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About Sienna Ciles
Sienna Ciles has more stories in her head than she has time to write them. After finally settling down with her family in Jupiter, Florida, she decided to finally take a leap and begin publishing her books. Her new website will soon be available at SiennaCiles.com
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