The Cowboy's Lady. Carolyne Aarsen
Читать онлайн книгу.
as another breeze created a swirl of orange and yellow leaves around the table. Fall was definitely creeping up, bringing a hint of cold with it. Could she really spend a winter in Clayton stuck out on a ranch in the boonies?
She glanced down at the map in her hand, misgivings eroding her decision.
But what was her alternative? Pound the few streets of town looking for something—anything—to pay her living expenses and her debts? Move back to New York and lose a chance at starting her own restaurant with the money from the inheritance?
But what if Lucas didn’t show up in time? Their grandfather’s will clearly stipulated that they all had to be around for them all to get their money. Would she be making a wrong career move for nothing?
She shook her head, dislodging her second thoughts. This was an opportunity to keep her cooking skills sharp and make some money.
And for now, she had no other choice.
“So you found us another cook?” Cody hung the halters on the pegs from the tack shed, glancing over his shoulder at Ted. “I’m impressed.”
His uncle nodded, gnawing at his toothpick. “Working on lunch in the cookhouse as we speak.”
Relief surged through him. “That’s great. I know the hands have been whining about the food.”
“Delores’s grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and supper only get a man so far,” Ted said.
“At least it’s food.” Cody had been fielding steady complaints about the grub ever since the last cook got fired for just about killing the hands with food poisoning. He’d managed to rope Delores, a hired hand’s wife, into cooking. She claimed the only thing she made was reservations. Or grilled cheese sandwiches. So that’s what they’d been eating. “So who did you find?”
“A surprise,” Ted said with a grin Cody didn’t trust.
“You know I don’t like surprises. Just tell me. Clayton’s not that big.” He stopped and put his hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Is it Arabella? Did you talk her into coming?” He could hardly believe his luck. Just thinking about Arabella’s pies and pastries got his mouth watering.
Ted angled him an “Are you kidding” look as he limped toward the cook shack. “Woman’s got triplets and takes care of that Jasmine girl. As if she’d have time to come out and cook for us.”
“So who did you get? Please don’t tell me you listened to Jonathan and got Vivienne Clayton to come and cook.”
Ted said nothing. Instead he opened the door of the cook shack with a flourish. Cody stepped inside.
And stared in disbelief as the very person he had warned his uncle against now stood in his kitchen.
Vivienne wore a tall chef’s hat and a white smock and apron. She stood at the stove, her back to them, stirring something smelling, for lack of a better word, weird.
What kind of joke was Ted playing? He yanked his hat off and slapped it against his thigh. He didn’t have time for this kind of malarkey. Too many things on the go and hired hands who grew more grumbly with each grilled cheese sandwich they had to choke down.
Vivienne wiped her hands on a cloth lying beside the stove and gave Cody a quick smile, a dimple flashing in one cheek. “Thanks for giving me this opportunity,” she said, holding out her hand.
Under that goofy looking hat, her hair was pulled back in a shining ponytail, low on her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and her cheekbones as beautiful as ever.
She looked even more amazing than she had in high school.
He caught himself, frustrated with how easily she brought back feelings he thought he’d dealt with years ago.
You’re not some dumb, love-struck senior anymore. You’ve lost a wife and—
He stopped his thoughts there. He couldn’t go to that dark place. Not now. Not ever.
“What is going on here?” he said, giving her hand a perfunctory shake. He shot an angry glance at Ted, who lifted his shoulders in a vague shrug.
“I’d like to go over the menu with you, to see what you and your uncle think of my choices,” Vivienne said, gesturing toward the stove. She pulled off her hat and whipped off the smock to reveal a black dress with no sleeves and some kind of shiny brooch pinned to one shoulder. “I hoped to have everything ready for my presentation, but you came earlier than I had anticipated.”
He didn’t want to look at her. “Menu?”
“Yes. For my test meal?”
“Test meal?” He felt like slapping himself on the head. He sounded like some robotic moron.
“Pauley Clayton doesn’t carry much of what I needed in the grocery store, but the best chefs can and do improvise.” She gave a quick laugh, her eyes flicking from him to Ted.
“I thought we could start with a spinach salad with spiced walnuts and pears and a light vinaigrette followed by glazed pears and a filet mignon with red wine tarragon sauce. I’d like to serve the filet with a reduction made from the pears, but only if you agree.” Cody felt bombarded by words and terms he knew nothing about.
Which made him feel stupid.
Which, in turn, made him angry, mostly because it was Vivienne Clayton he felt stupid in front of.
“That sounds like something for a restaurant, not cowboys,” he said.
Vivienne lifted her shoulder in a vague shrug. “Cowboys can enjoy gourmet cooking, too.”
“Gourmet? Not likely.”
Ted grabbed him and gave him a half turn. “You’d sooner eat grilled cheese sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and supper?” he asked, turning, as well, so his back was to Vivienne and he was facing Cody.
“I’d sooner eat ordinary food.”
Ted yanked on his arm to pull him closer. “We could use some decent food here,” he muttered. “I think we should hire her.”
Before Cody could reply, Vivienne handed him and Ted each a plate with half a pear sitting on a leaf of lettuce, and the whole business was sprinkled with nuts.
“Why don’t you give this a taste and tell me what you think,” Vivienne was saying, “and I’ll get the steak ready.”
Cody looked from the pear all fancied up to Vivienne. Gold hoops hung from her ears, and her eyes had that smudgy look Bonnie was always trying to create with endless pots of makeup and tubes of mascara.
She looked exactly like she did in high school. Fancy. Unapproachable. The epitome of the same city girl Tabitha, his wife, had been. Someone who couldn’t live out here.
His heart hardened at the memory. He wasn’t going there again. Girls like Tabitha and Vivienne didn’t belong on a ranch. They couldn’t handle the isolation and the stress.
“Sorry you wasted your time coming, Miss Clayton,” Cody said, clenching the brim of his battered cowboy hat. “But we’re not hiring you.”
Then he spun around on one booted heel and left.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой