Abbie's jaw almost hit the table. Her skin went ashen gray, and a rim of white surrounded surprised eyes.
Shoving back her chair and pushing to her feet, Eileen rested her hands flat on the table, leaned forward and whispered to her friends, "Now, girls. Now."
****
Apparently working in a kitchen was almost like riding a bicycle. Slowly getting back his rhythm, Jamie had only dropped the hotel pans a few times. Of course, he'd never actually been a cook, but any restaurant manager would tell you that when an employee is a no-show, he learns fast how to cook, bus, prep, or wash dishes. Jamie had done his share of all of the above. Except right now he wished before moving on to barkeep, he’d done a lot more of the cooking and a lot less of the table busing. Had he not felt guilty as hell for Abbie’s only cook being down for the count, he might have waited for someone more qualified to step up. Qualified or not, since the visiting pup who had actually caused the problem couldn’t cook, and it was Jamie’s future place of business where Frank had taken the dive, here Jamie was cooking in a strange kitchen. Praying not to screw things up too badly and extremely thankful Frank was as good at his job as everyone gave him credit for.
This morning, Jamie had anticipated cooking a la minute from scratch, meal by meal, searching for ingredients and fumbling his way through a foreign kitchen. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find Frank had left all the food prep for today ready before leaving yesterday. Jamie was even happier that the breakfast crowd was dwindling before his breakfast mise, the prepped items and ingredients for the morning dishes, ran out.
The double doors sprang open. Abbie hurried in, but rather than stop at the pass to leave an order, she rushed past him.
“What are you doing?" he asked.
Abbie grabbed an apron from a hook by the back door slid it over her head and wrapping the strings around, tied it tightly. "Tourist bus just pulled in. You're going to need help."
Before he could utter a word, Dorothy, one of his aunt's dearest friends and his cousin DJ's grandmother-in-law, pushed through the double doors.
Casting an observant glance from left to right, Dorothy nodded. "I've never been in here before. Not bad.” Slapping her hands together she faced Abbie. “Which way are the aprons?"
Since Abbie stared at her with the same surprise he felt, Jamie supposed she hadn't expected company in the kitchen any more than he had.
"Eileen sent me in here,” the older woman explained. “I've been assigned to do the meese. Whatever the heck that means. Which way?"
Blinking, Abbie nodded and pointed to the back door. "There's an extra apron over there. When it's tied on, follow me to the fridge."
Working as fast as he could in the unfamiliar kitchen, Jamie plated the next orders and slid them onto the pass for pick up. About to ring the bell, he realized the only waitress in the place was in the refrigerator with Dorothy.
The double door swung open again, and in marched his aunt. “We've got one heck of a crowd. Ruth Ann and Sally May set up three twelve-tops and two four-tops."
Great. Jamie took a deep breath. First day on the job and forty-four extra customers for breakfast. Just peachy.
"Four-top number one,” his aunt read from a pad in her hand. “That'll be two cowboys with spurs hold the onions on both. My guess is those folks plan on doing some kissing later in the day. I'll need two dots and a dash, and an Adam and Eve on a raft." Eileen spun about and called over her shoulder. "Don’t you worry none, Abbie. Sally May is already working on a fresh pot of coffee. Oops, dirty water."
Giggling as though this were the most fun she’d had since she was six years old, his aunt waltzed back into the cafe.
Stunned silent, he turned to see Abbie frozen in place, arms laden with peppers, and onions and other fresh vegetables, staring wide-eyed at the closed doors.
"Did you know she could do that?" he asked.
Abbie shook her head. "Do you understand what she ordered?"
"Yeah," he nodded, slowly turning back to the closed doors. "I just hope she does."
****
"Take a load off." Adam Farraday pulled a chair out for Abbie.
One by one through the day almost every Farraday, except Catherine and Joanna who’d been left in charge of Frank, had found an excuse to stop in and check on Jamie. And by extension, Abbie. Some had popped in for only a moment or two, like Connor and Finn, who had used going to the feed store as an excuse to come into town. Not that they needed two hulking Farradays to pick up an order of horse pills. Of course, when word got out that the Tuckers Bluff Afternoon Ladies Social club was waiting tables, Abbie had the largest lunch crowd she’d had since that first day when Meg had shown up in town.
Now, at the end of the day, the only people left in the café after the dinner crowd were the three Farraday brothers who lived in town. Two with their wives.
Brooks waved a hand at the chair beside his brother. "I could make it doctor's orders. Sit."
Abbie knew the worst thing to do at the end of an insanely long day was to stop and sit, but she also knew there was no point in arguing with a Farraday, never mind three of them. She sank slowly into the wooden chair.
"Better." DJ smiled at her. "That's my girl."
Becky squeezed her husband's hand and sprang from her seat. "I'll go get Jamie. He probably needs a break too."
"How come you're not home with your wife and baby?" Abbie looked to Brooks.
Smiling as wide as Main Street, Brooks pushed to stand. "As a matter of fact, now that I can personally assure my wife that you are not frazzled to the bone or in need of medical attention, and cousin Jamie did not do anything to merit you killing him today—"
"That would be why I'm here." Laughing, DJ cut off his brother.
Brooks chuckled. "As I was saying, I can now go home and report to my wife that all is well, then call my sister to inform her that you will not be in need of her legal representation."
"Hardy har har." Jamie strolled to the table and spinning around the chair Brooks had just vacated, he straddled the seat, resting his forearms along the top. "Had I thought my life would be at risk, I would never have volunteered."
Meg sputtered with laughter. "I have a feeling General Custer may have said the same thing just before Little Big Horn."
The entire table, including Jamie, laughed along with Meg.
Jamie waved a finger at Brooks. "Before you go, who can tell me where the heck Aunt Eileen learned diner speak?"
"What?" several voices echoed.
Abbie bobbed her head. "He's not kidding. She marched into the kitchen this morning spouting coded breakfast orders as though she were on a reality restaurant TV show."
"Our Aunt Eileen?" Adam asked.
Jamie nodded and looked to Brooks, who shrugged, then to DJ who shook his head.
"All I know," Meg added, "is when I worked here at the café she never said a word to give any indication that she’d ever worked in a restaurant herself."
"Maybe that explains why she's such a good cook?" Becky asked.
DJ shrugged. "Well, it certainly could explain why she's so good at cooking for a lot of people."
"So, what we’re all saying is that nobody has any idea where Aunt Eileen learned kitchen slang." Frowning, Jamie leaned forward. "Do we at least know what Aunt Eileen did before she moved to the ranch?"
All the Farraday siblings and in-laws looked around to each other.
"Didn’t she sing or something?" Adam asked. Being the oldest when their mom passed, he was the most likely to remember anything mentioned around that time.
Brooks snapped his fingers. "That's right. She has a picture of herself standing in front of a microphone. I asked her about it once and she never really answered."
"Funny, I saw the same photo. It’s in her dresser. For some reason I always assumed it was like karaoke night or something,” DJ said. “If it were an important part of her life wouldn’t it be on the dresser? Besides, who would walk away from a music career to
take care of the lot of us?"
Even Abbie could answer that easily, and she wasn't a member of the family. Eileen Callahan. Today by itself was an excellent example of who their aunt was. On a dime, without a word having been spoken, she stepped in and pretty much took over the café for over three hours until Shannon came to work. And she roped all her friends into helping. Sure, Jamie was her nephew, and the whole town knew that Aunt Eileen was fierce about protecting her own. Today, Abbie might as well have been a Farraday.
She knew dang well this morning that any other card game day, and every last one of those women would've had their drinks refilled—often. But this morning they were more concerned with not making extra work for Abbie. Truthfully, she was a little surprised Aunt Eileen hadn’t jumped in sooner. Every time Abbie had run to the kitchen after some horrendous crash, she discovered Jamie merely suffering the growing pains of working a new kitchen. Juggling and dropping a few pots and pans made for frightening noise in the restaurant and had every patron on alert, including Aunt Eileen, but she’d stayed put. Until the busload of tourists.
Abbie bit back a smile. That woman truly was amazing. Now, more than ever, like the rest of the Farradays, Abbie really wanted to know, what was Aunt Eileen's story?
CHAPTER FIVE
Standing on his feet was nothing new for Jamie. Bartenders stood for long shifts, but today had to be one of the longest days of his life. Not until he’d taken a seat beside his cousins had he realized just how bone tired he was. How Frank and Abbie did this, day after day, week after week, year after year, he didn’t have a clue.
Across the room, Abbie locked the café doors. He knew she had to be as tired as he was, and yet she insisted on staying late to help him prep for tomorrow. All day he'd seen her come and go, in and out of the kitchen. A few times he'd had the luxury of pausing to watch as she fluttered about. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps this was how Frank made it through his days. Most of the time Abbie wore a smile that when flashed in his direction offered a jolt of energy to help push him through.
"All ready?" Her smile held in place, she yanked a toothy clip away from her head and shook out cascades of chestnut brown hair, then stretched her shoulders and neck before twisting her hair back into a bun, reattaching the clip, and heading for the double doors into the kitchen.
As the dinner crowd had wound down, he’d taken Frank's advice and began the prep work for tomorrow's menu specials.
"I know Frank plans his menu out at least a week in advance. The problem is, he doesn't actually write it down anywhere."
Jamie followed Abbie into the kitchen. "I know."
She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You do?"
The phone in his pocket sounded, and he knew at this hour it could only be one person. Not bothering to look at the screen, he swiped at the phone. "I'm in the kitchen."
Frank's deep voice rumbled through the line. "How much did you get done?"
"Quite a bit. You were right."
"Of course I was right. You think I was born yesterday?"
Jamie had never been in the military. He’d never had the pleasure of a drill sergeant dragging him out of bed before dawn and screaming in his ear about absolutely nothing before his first cup of coffee. Regardless, he was savvy enough to know not to respond to that particular question.
“I hear footsteps,” Frank muttered. “That woman has bionic ears. I swear she can hear a cricket snore. I'm supposed to be resting. I’d better go. I'll keep the phone close if you have any questions."
"Got it. Go rest."
"Now you sound like your aunt. I hurt my foot, not my mouth."
His aunt’s voice grew louder, but not close enough for Jamie to make out her words.
"I really gotta go. You take care of everything." The call disconnected.
Jamie had to laugh. How many people could have a former Marine drill sergeant backing down? Only one that he knew of. Force Eileen.
"That doesn't sound like the first time he's called." Abbie waved a finger at his phone.
Slipping the cell into his breast pocket, he nodded. "You probably don't want to know."
Abbie's eyes grew surprisingly round. "How many times has he called?"
Jamie shrugged. “He didn't want to see you run into any trouble."
“Whoever heard of a backseat cook?"
"Don't be too hard on him. He cares about you."
The sudden softness in her gaze had him questioning if perhaps the relationship between Abbie and Frank was something beyond employer and employee. Her attention shifted to the prep area in the small kitchen. "Oh, you have been busy."
He liked seeing the pleased grin on her face. "Frank shared his routine. In painfully precise detail."
"Oh brother, he's been calling you all day long, hasn't he?"
Jamie smothered a smile. "Yeah, pretty much."
"I'll ask him to stop."
"That won't be necessary." Jamie moved to the other side of the stainless steel table and stood beside her. "When things were really busy, I simply didn't answer the phone."
Abbie's eyes widened. "Oh, I bet that went over like a lead balloon."
“He would have done the same. He’s a big boy.”
“Right now, I’m not so sure about that.” She smiled again and Jamie wondered how he’d never paid attention to such a heartwarming smile before.
Between the work he’d already done under Frank’s instruction and the extra hands helping, the work for the next day was prepped and stored in the fridge in almost no time at all.
“If you’d like to use the upstairs apartment, you’re welcome to it.”
Jamie shook his head.
“It’s a long haul to the ranch and dusk comes early.”
Didn’t he know that. Raised on a ranch, starting the day in the pitch of night was pretty normal. Of course, he hadn’t been working after dark the nights before. “Thanks for the offer. For now, I’m fine. If it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know.”
Abbie nodded. “Fair enough.”
Standing outside the café doors, Jamie waited for her to lock up. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Not necessary.” She spun about to face him, clipping the keys onto her purse straps. “The walk helps me unwind.”
Which was what Frank had told him during one of his nine million calls today. When she had a lot on her mind, she’d walk to work. “Makes sense. I’ll walk with you.”
She stopped and stared up at him. Slowly her brows buckled over the bridge of her nose. When a deep-set frown appeared, he knew they’d been busted. “Frank.”
It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyhow.
“I swear,” she grumbled then whirled around. “This isn’t exactly a high crime neighborhood.”
Slipping his hands into his pocket, he flashed a smile and shook his head.
“But you’re going to walk me no matter what I say.”
Again, not a question, but he nodded nonetheless. “Frank is bigger and stronger than you. I’m not going home and reporting that I let you walk home alone.”
Hefting her purse over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, mumbling, “Men.”
“It would,” he waved to the lone car left in the side parking lot, “be a blessing to my tired feet if I could just drive you home.”
Her gaze darted down the block then back to him. For a second he felt sure she was going to go all drill sergeant on him when her shoulders unexpectedly sank in rhythm to a deep exhale. “Fine. But Frank and I are going to have a nice little chat tomorrow and settle a few things.”
“Better you than me.”
Shaking her head and scowling, she turned away. Her steps heavier, she muttered something he couldn’t quite make out but he was pretty sure the words men and incorrigible were in there somewhere and they didn’t sound at all as playful as when she’d mumbled at him a few moments ago. Whatever was turning about in that pretty head right now didn’t seem to show a very high opinion
of the male species, and deep in his gut he had an unexpected urge to take on the task of changing her mind. How crazy an idea was that?
****
How crazy was she to let a man give her a ride home—all four blocks of it. Though the true measure of her sanity should have been last night when she agreed to let Jamison Farraday cook for the café. Her soon to be competition. Competition that by the end of the week would have all of Frank’s recipes. Maybe she should be asking how stupid was she.
“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”
Abbie blinked twice then dragged her gaze away from the window and focused on him. Maybe he was the crazy one. “Do what?”
“You were frowning and your back’s as stiff as wooden plank. Whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t do it.”
Just what she needed, an observant recipe thief.
Jamie pulled onto her street. “Which house?”
“Third from the corner on the right.”
He pulled into the drive and leaning forward over the steering wheel, peered up at the house. “Cute.”
“Thank you.” She was darn proud of this place. Ten years ago she could barely make ends meet waiting tables in Dallas and here she was, owner of the café and her own little house. Before she could gather up her purse, and her energy, Jamie had circled the hood and stood holding the passenger door open. If anyone told her the Farraday men had the corner on the chivalry market, she’d believe them. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
The door of his old truck slammed shut and Abbie spun around. “You don’t have to walk me to the door.” She stuck her hand out before he could speak. “Even Frank doesn’t walk me to the door.”
His gaze darted from her to the house, then to each of the neighbors’ homes. She could almost hear the thoughts playing in his mind. Would Frank kill him if he stood by the truck? What if the boogieman is hiding behind the door? And if he’s there, never mind Frank, his aunt and uncle would skin him alive. Kin or no kin.
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