Lead Me Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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Lead Me Home - Vicki Thompson Lewis

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the soufflé route would be tricky with a crowd, but how gratifying if she could pull it off!

      The big dining room sat thirty-two, but she wouldn’t be feeding quite that many. The eight teens took up one of the round tables. The hands and whichever members of the Chance family showed up would occupy two more tables. She didn’t have the baking dishes to make twenty-four individual soufflés, but since she didn’t have an exact head count, several bigger ones everyone could share would work better, anyway.

      Or maybe she should make ratatouille, instead. She leafed through another cookbook and found the recipe for that. She’d need eggplant, but she could run into town tomorrow and pick some up. Reading through the list of ingredients, she lifted her thick hair off the back of her neck to catch the evening breeze coming in the kitchen window. The ranch didn’t have air-conditioning because it wasn’t needed often in Jackson Hole, but they could have used some AC today.

      Aurelia’s boss, Sarah Chance, had apologized for the lack of cooling and had brought a fan into the kitchen while Aurelia was fixing brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons for lunch. Apparently this July had been warmer than usual, although it didn’t seem bad to Aurelia, who was used to Nebraska’s summers.

      This was her first trip out of Nebraska, and although she was enjoying the chance to try recipes and cook for a crowd, she couldn’t imagine doing it on a regular basis. She’d happily go back to her stress-free routine of working at the bank and cooking for herself and her friends on her days off.

      As she puzzled over whether to serve the ratatouille or the spinach soufflé the next day, she heard voices coming from the hallway that led into the large dining room. One she recognized as Sarah’s, but the deep baritone didn’t sound like any of Sarah’s three adult sons or Pete, who had recently become Sarah’s fiancé.

      As the voices drew closer and Aurelia heard Houdini’s name mentioned, she figured out the horse trainer had arrived. And he’d probably arrived hungry if Sarah was bringing him back to the kitchen. Happy anticipation made Aurelia smile. She loved feeding people.

      A moment later Sarah walked into the kitchen followed by a very tall man with shoulders a mile wide and eyes bluer than the center of a gas flame. Aurelia caught her breath as she stood to greet the most imposing cowboy she’d seen since setting foot on the Last Chance. And that was saying something, because the ranch was chock-full of good-looking cowboys.

      The horse trainer held his tan Stetson in one hand. He’d obviously been wearing it all day because his wavy brown hair bore the crease of it, along with a faint pink mark on his forehead, which she found endearing. His face and throat were bronzed by the sun, which presented a nice contrast to the blue denim Western shirt he wore. She didn’t allow her gaze to travel lower in case he’d think she was giving him the once-over. She’d save that for when he wasn’t looking right at her.

      Aurelia’s boss wasn’t small at five foot nine, but this man made Sarah Chance look dainty. Sarah tucked her sleek bob, which she’d allowed to turn its natural white, behind her ears as she smiled at Aurelia. “Here’s the magician who’s going to solve our problems with Houdini. Matthew Tredway, may I present our cook, Aurelia Smith.”

      “Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand, which was engulfed by his much larger one.

      His handshake was warm, and so was his smile. “Same here. I asked Sarah if you might have some leftovers for me. I haven’t eaten much all day.”

      She’d seldom taken such an instant liking to someone, but Matthew had the square-jawed look of a man a girl could count on. “I’ll be happy to fix you something.” She couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face, either. Her girlfriends had talked about instant sexual chemistry, but she’d thought they were imagining things because she’d never felt it before. In less than sixty seconds, Matthew Tredway had made a believer out of her.

      Too bad she and Matthew were both only temporarily in the same place, but at least now she understood what her friends back home had been talking about. It really was like being struck by lightning, as evidenced by her pounding heart.

      Before she’d fully processed her feelings, a commotion erupted in the main part of the house. Young male laughter and good-natured taunts, coupled with the sound of feet thumping on the stairs to the second floor, indicated the teenagers had returned from town.

      Sarah glanced at Matthew and Aurelia. “If you two will excuse me, I’d better go check on the kids.”

      And Pete. Aurelia got such a kick out of watching the sixty-something couple. Anyone would think they were teenagers themselves as they held hands and shared a brief kiss now and then. Sarah had been widowed nearly three years ago, and her sons seemed happy that she’d found someone like Pete.

      As Sarah headed out of the kitchen, Aurelia remembered her duties as the ranch cook. “Do you think the boys will want an evening snack? I have some roasted figs left.”

      Sarah turned back to her. “If I know Pete, he bought them all a slice of homemade pie at the diner, so I think they’re set for the night. Thanks, though.”

      “Just wanted to make sure.”

      “I’d take some of those roasted figs,” Matthew said.

      Aurelia glanced at him. “Not until you’ve had a proper meal.” When Matthew laughed, she realized how anal that had sounded. “Sorry, I’ve been dealing with teenagers for a week. If you want dessert first, you certainly can have it.”

      “That’s okay.” His smile creased his tanned cheeks. “I’ll wait on the figs.”

      She had the insane urge to stand on tiptoe, clutch that smiling face, and plant one right on his gorgeous mouth. He was way too handsome for his own good.

      But kissing him after knowing him for five minutes wasn’t a great idea. Instead she walked over and clicked the oven knob before opening the industrial-sized refrigerator. “Then I’ll warm up the leftover brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons we had for lunch.”

      “My French is pretty sparse, but I think I’ve had that before.”

      She turned, the foil-covered platter in her hand, and stared at him. “You have? I’ve never met anyone who’s eaten it before.”

      “Tell me what’s in it and I’ll know for sure.”

      “Kidneys, liver and bacon on a skewer.”

      Matthew nodded. “That was my guess. Sounds great.”

      “Where did you have it?” Now she was nervous. Maybe the version he’d eaten had been better than what she’d fixed today.

      “A restaurant on the Left Bank.”

      “In Paris?” Now she was really nervous.

      “Yes. Ever been to France?”

      “No. I’m not really into travel.”

      “You’re not? Why?”

      She shrugged. “I like the comforts of home too much, I guess. Traveling just doesn’t appeal to me.”

      “But you could sample the food cooked by natives.”

      “I’d rather try making

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