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 wouldn’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.
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
