Her Cowboy Boss Page 3

  “The last cook suggested beef stew.”

  Avery glanced around the kitchen, taking in the large pots, the hanging spatulas, the knives in neat rows held along magnetic strips on the wall. Beef stew. It sounded simple enough. Beef, carrots, potatoes, broth. Onions—couldn’t forget those. Yes, this was under control.

  Hank’s cell phone rang, and he picked up the call. “Yeah?...Okay...No, that’s a priority...Okay, I’ll meet you there.” He hung up the phone.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  “A water pipe leak affecting the water pressure for some sprinklers. I’ve got to look into it.” He paused. “So will you be okay here?”

  “I can do this,” she said, her confidence returning.

  “Yeah?” He looked a little wary, but she was armed with YouTube and a massive pot. What could possibly go wrong?

  “You’re cooking for thirty-five,” he said, nodding toward the stove. “That pot should be full.”

  “Dinner’s at five?” she asked.

  “Five sharp.” He turned toward the door, and she pulled out her phone. She knew she’d find online videos and recipes and cooking tips galore. Stew was within the realm of possibility. Hank paused at the door and pulled out a little pad of paper, scratched a number on it and placed it on the center table. “Call me if you get into trouble.”

  Nice to say, but she highly doubted that kitchen woes would trump anything else he had going in the rest of the ranch. She’d sort things out on her own.

  * * *

  THAT DAY THE work in the field took longer than Hank anticipated. The water pressure was down to a dribble out there, and the fix was more complicated than they’d originally thought. He and the men didn’t ride back to the canteen until ten past five, and they’d have to head back out after they ate for another go at it. Hank was both hungry and nervous. There were thirty-five hungry workers needing a decent meal, and he’d left a woman they didn’t know in charge of the kitchen, hoping for the best.

  Hank bounced along the gravel road that meandered back up toward the barracks and the canteen. The radio was on low, a country song filling up the space between the roar of the engine and the rattle of equipment in the back. He’d been thinking about Avery the entire time he was searching for that blasted leak, telling himself repeatedly he was just worried about the food. But it was less noble than that. He’d never thought of himself as a guy with a type, but if he had one, she was it. Slender, cute, fair. Maybe it was just the fact that there weren’t a lot of other women around here.

  Hank parked his truck in front of the building, hopped out and slammed the door with a satisfying bang. The canteen had two large, old-fashioned wagon wheels on either side of the double doors, which were already propped open. Some of the men had arrived ahead of him, their truck already parked in a spot in front. His stomach rumbled. Beef stew would hit the spot tonight. It had been a long day, but the job wasn’t yet done, and he needed a solid meal.

  As Hank stepped inside, he was met with the murmur of voices, some laughter, the clink of cutlery—all normal. The smell, though... It wasn’t just the press of sweaty bodies, it was something else he couldn’t quite identify...

  “Hey, Hank.” Bernie, one of the ranch hands sat in front of a bowl of stew, two dinner rolls next to it. “Have you seen the new cook?”

  “Yeah, I showed her around,” Hank replied.

  “Well, thank you for hiring that one,” he said with a grin. “She’s hot.”

  There was a chorus of laughter and a few crude comments. Hank shot them a flat stare. Hot or not—and he wasn’t arguing how good-looking she was—she wasn’t here to be ogled. She was here to cook. There were workplace rules about sexual harassment and about fraternizing with the staff, rules he was following, too. When Louis’s wife, Carla, had died in that riding accident, it had been because a couple of workers were literally having a roll in the hay. Her death was preventable, and while those workers had been fired, Louis set up an ironclad rule about workplace dalliances.

  “How’s the food?” Hank asked. He leaned closer to the bowl and discovered the source of the “off” smell. “Oh, man...”

  “It’s—” Bernie shrugged. “It’s served by the pretty redhead. I’ll have seconds.”

  The man across the table from them, Ivan, was chewing a piece of beef, his jaw moving in slow rotations. Hank paused and watched him chew for another ten seconds.

  “You gonna swallow that?” Hank asked.

  Ivan slowly shook his head. “It’s like leather,” he said past the meat in his mouth. “I can’t get it down.”

  There didn’t seem to be any open complaining, interestingly enough. Had a man served that meal, there’d have been a riot. Avery stood across the room, bending down to offer more bread to one of the ranch hands, whose eyes were fixed on her cleavage. Her red hair tumbled down in front of her shoulders—no hairnet, apparently—and her smile was bright. This was a rough bunch of guys, and Avery probably had no idea what she was getting herself into here. He headed toward her, and when Avery saw him, she shot him a smile.

  “Hi,” he said, clapping a hand onto the shoulder of the ranch hand who had been ogling Avery’s chest. The man dropped his gaze to his bowl immediately.

  “Served on time,” she said, looking quite satisfied with herself. “And everyone seems to love it.”

  “Mmm. Delicious,” the ranch hand said on cue, and Hank suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, they all seemed to be willing to compliment the meal, if only to get a little of the cook’s personal attention. And for that, Hank couldn’t blame them entirely. There wasn’t a whole lot of female contact out here, and they had to wait until they went into Hope on their days off for a beer at the Honky Tonk in order to get a woman to look at them straight. He’d have to have a word with Avery in private.

  “You must be starving,” Avery said. “Let me get you a bowl.”

  “Sure,” he said. “In the kitchen.”

  She shot him a quizzical look, but complied and they headed through the swinging door into relative privacy. The kitchen was hot from cooking, and the pot was still on the stove. She stepped onto a stool next to the stove so she could reach inside and she scooped him up a big bowl of stew. He grabbed a bun and took a bite of the crusty roll, holding the proffered bowl of stew in the other hand for the time being.

  “You, too,” he said, nodding to the pot. “I couldn’t possibly try this before you do.”

  Avery bent back over the pot to fill her own bowl, and he watched her move. She was feminine—an odd thing to notice about a woman. Weren’t all women feminine? But there was something soft and lithe about her, something that should smell like flowers—even though he couldn’t smell anything but that stew right now.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Avery said, picking up a spoon from the counter. “I was a little worried at first—” She dipped the spoon into the bowl and blew on it a couple of times before she took a bite. Her expression changed as she pulled the spoon from her mouth, and she chewed slowly.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “It’s, um...” She swallowed. “I think something went wrong.”

  “Yeah?” he asked. “What did you do to it?”

  “I followed the directions!” She shot him an annoyed look. “To the T, might I add. Beef stew. I have no idea what went wrong. Except there wasn’t any red wine.”

  “Yeah, we don’t tend to cook with red wine out here,” he said wryly.

  “I may have replaced the red wine with red wine vinegar.”

  He grimaced. Vinegar in beef stew? What had she been thinking? But she looked so let down. Avery ran her hand through her hair, tugging those loose waves away from her face. It was the disappointment in those green-flecked eyes. She’d actually thought she’d done well, and the other guys had let her believe it. He normally w
ouldn’t make much effort for a cook’s feelings...

  “Pass me some salt,” he said with a sigh.

  “You’re going to eat it?” she asked. “I’m sure I can rummage up something else for you.”

  “It’s what’s for dinner,” he replied. “I’ll eat what my men are eating.”

  And he wasn’t pleased about that. He was hungry—as were all the guys out there. They’d worked a long day, and they needed a decent meal at the end of that. He was grumpy, he was hungry and the glop in his bowl was possibly the worst stew he’d eaten in his life. And that included cattle drives where the one who drew the shortest straw had to cook.

  “Breakfast will be better,” she said. “Eggs, bacon, corn bread...that’s hard to ruin.”

  He’d thought the same thing about the stew.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll meet you here at 4:00 a.m., and we’ll work on it together. We’ll have to make the pack lunches, too. At least that way, if the guys don’t like the grub, they can blame me, too.”

  And at the very least, they’d get an edible lunch.

  “But they seem to like it...” She looked toward the swinging door, her pale brows knitted. Had she really not figured out how gorgeous she was and what that did to the common male?

  “Yeah...” He shot her a wry look. “They seem to.”

  She wasn’t going to be sticking around Hope for long, but while she was here, maybe they could manage to get some decent grub.

  Chapter Three

  The evening shadows stretched out long and deep, and Avery stood by a fence, her foot on a rail as she watched the sun sink steadily lower. The sky was turning a misty pink, crimson bleeding out along the horizon. The fields glowed gold in the sunset, cattle dotting the lush greenery. A couple of roads snaked across the land, empty and lonesome.

  Should I even be here?

  Today had been strange in every way. When she arrived in Hope, she hadn’t known what to expect. Her mother had always been secretive about who her father was, and when she confessed a name on her deathbed, that’s where she’d stopped. Louis Harmon. No more details. By Louis’s reaction to hearing her name, Avery was assuming that Winona had never told Louis about the daughter they’d made together. Why not? What could she have possibly gained by hiding Avery from him? Louis seemed kind. He was obviously respected by his employees. Hank sure seemed to think a lot of him.

  It didn’t make sense, but at least Winona had given Avery his name before she died. That name linked her to a family she’d never known about—a family that very well might not want to know about her. It was strange to think about herself as orphaned at twenty-four, but that was how she felt. She’d counted on her mother for more than she realized—for her gut reaction to the guys Avery dated, for her optimistic view of the future, for her skill in running the flower shop. Mom knew how to make the perfect arrangement for that finicky bride. She knew how to comfort the bereaved family buying flowers for a funeral. She always managed to look right through whichever guy Avery was dating and figure him out before Avery even managed to. Sweetheart, he’s not as committed as you are. If he’s saying goodnight by nine, I’m willing to bet he’s got another date lined up for ten.

  It had always been her and Mom against the world, and now it was suddenly just her. And while Avery was perfectly able to run her life, the hole her mother left behind was still raw.

  A truck’s engine rumbled behind her, and she turned to see Louis pull up in front of the bunkhouse. The truck was new—glossy black with shining chrome. You could tell who the boss was around here. The older man hopped out of the truck and slammed the door. He spotted her by the fence and waved.

  Avery headed toward him and shot him a smile.

  “Evening,” he said.

  “Hi,” she replied. “Nice night.”

  “Sure is.” He shook her hand with that same crushing grip from earlier. “Are you settled in okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, thanks.” She crossed her arms. “Served my first meal.”

  “I heard.” Something flickered across his expression. He must have heard how bad it tasted, too. So was this it? Was he going to fire her? She almost wished he would, then she’d be forced to tell him why she’d really come and get it over with.

  “I know it wasn’t the best stew,” she began.

  “I’m not worried about it. Hank assures me that it’s under control. He’s your boss, so he’s the one you need to impress.”

  Great. She hadn’t done a great job in impressing him so far.

  “Alright. Well...thank you for being patient with me.”

  “Hank also mentioned you’ve got about two weeks here. We appreciate the honesty on that. It’s still good to have you here to fill the vacancy while we keep looking for a permanent cook.”

  “I’m glad it will work for both of us,” she said. And she was. She hadn’t wanted to mislead them. “I should have mentioned it to you earlier. It all got away from me.”

  Louis was silent for a moment, and he looked out toward the fields and the sunset. His weathered face softened.

  “I knew a Winona Southerly a long time ago. Any relation?” he asked.

  “My mother,” she said, and her voice trembled slightly as the words came out.

  “Really?” Louis’s eyebrows shot up and he looked at her in surprise. “You’re Winona Southerly’s daughter?”

  “Yes.” Avery smiled. “I’ve been told I look like her—if I were blond.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded. “Yes, I can see it—I should have noticed before. Where is your mother now?”

  “She passed away,” Avery replied. “Breast cancer.”

  “Oh...” Louis’s expression fell and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. She was quite the gal. I knew her...well, a long time ago. What did she end up doing with her life?”

  “She had me young,” Avery said. “She worked odd jobs for a few years and inherited some money when my grandmother passed away. She used it to open a flower shop in Salina.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded slowly. “Sounds like a good life.”

  “Too short, though,” Avery said. “She was forty-three. I’m actually here trying to find out a little bit more about her...and her relationships.”

  An awkward look crossed Louis’s face. He was silent for a moment, then said, “She was a good person—fun, sympathetic. She was a good friend.”

  Friend. Right. Obviously, she’d been a little more than that.

  “So you knew her well?” Avery pressed.

  “We were kids,” he said with a shake of his head. “When I knew your mother she wanted to marry a senator, learn some bull riding—” he smiled sadly “—and open a flower shop.”

  Avery hadn’t realized that a flower shop had been part of her mother’s dreams back then. She knew her mother had opened the business so that she could be her own boss and be there for Avery after school. But she hadn’t realized that shop had been a dream fulfilled. The bull riding didn’t seem to fit, though.

  “Did she get married?” Louis asked.

  “Once,” Avery replied. “It lasted three years, and after the divorce she focused on me.” That made it sound like she didn’t have any other options, somehow, so she added, “There were a couple of other gentlemen from church who used to come by the shop and chat with her, though. If she’d not gotten sick, she might have married again.”

  “Church?” Louis took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “And you came to find out about your mother’s time in Hope, did you?”

  He’d been talking to Hank, it seemed.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He chewed the side of his cheek and nodded several times.

  “You knew her...” she prodded.

  “Yeah, I did,” he agreed. “If you’re wanting to find ou
t more about her, Winona went to the local high school. You might find some old photos there. And people knew her...lots of people knew her.”

  “What church did she go to?” Avery asked. That might be another avenue to sleuth out, and perhaps thinking about Winona would spark some old memories for Louis.

  Louis chuckled. “She wasn’t much into church when she lived here, I’m afraid.”

  That was a surprise, because Winona had been a spiritual woman as far back as Avery could remember.

  “I guess we all change over the years,” Louis said slowly. “We grow and learn, and let go of a few mistakes.”

  His words sank down into the pit of her stomach. Was he referring to Winona, or to himself? Was that what Winona was to him—a mistake? Somehow, Avery hadn’t considered that option, but obviously Louis had married someone else and started a family of his own. Maybe that was the way he remembered Winona, after all. A wave of resentment crashed over her... Her mother deserved better than that, a whole lot better. Unless Louis was lying. Maybe he didn’t want his balance here upset.

  “Did my mother ever contact you?” she asked a little more curtly than intended.

  “No.” Louis frowned slightly, her intention seeming to miss him. “She didn’t have any reason, that I know of.”

  “I just—” Avery shook her head. This wasn’t the right moment to announce it all. “I was curious about why she would walk away from this town and never mention it again until her last days.”

  That was a roundabout way of getting at it. Why had her mother walked away from here, from Louis, and never looked back?

  “She didn’t talk about Hope?” Louis asked.

  “Nothing more than to say she’d grown up here,” Avery replied. “And that she never wanted to come back.”

  “Oh.” Louis sucked in a breath, then blew out a sigh. “She must have had her reasons...I suppose.”

  “You don’t know why?” Avery pressed.

  Louis was silent for a moment, and then he fixed his dark gaze on Avery and said quietly, “You say she was a church lady in Kansas. Right?”