A Cowboy in the Kitchen (13 page)

“A little lady with nice manners waits for everyone's drinks to be ready,” Raina told her.

“Okay, Nana,” Lucy said, her big hazel eyes on the pink-red smoothie on the counter.

Finally two larger smoothies appeared on the counter. Annabel also ordered strawberry-banana and Raina chose mixed berry.

“Now, Nana?” Lucy asked, and at her grandmother's nod she hurried over and picked up her drink with two hands, took a sip and then headed over to the far side of the shop where a giant abacus with brightly colored beads stood in the corner.

Raina took a sip of her drink. “Ah, isn't that refreshing?” She took another sip, leaving her red lipstick on the straw. “A few weeks ago Landon and I passed by this shop and Lucy and West were in here, so we stopped to say hello. Do you believe West let Lucy order the chocolate-coconut? All sugar. No wonder she runs around like a crazy little boy.”

Annabel hoped she hadn't rolled her eyes, which had been her immediate response. “Well, I'm a firm believer in all things in moderation.”

Raina tucked a swath of her ash-blond hair behind her ear. “I suppose. But if West had ordered a fruit-based smoothie for himself—the way you did—Lucy would have too, as she did today. Instead he ordered chocolate, so of course she wanted it. He's always making poor choices like that.”

“From what I've seen, West is very committed to Lucy's health. He made a great breakfast this morning—eggs, bacon, whole wheat toast, fruit cup. No chocolate pudding anywhere to be seen.”

Raina made her trademark sneer. “That's your influence, Annabel.” She patted Annabel's hand, her gaze on the diamond wedding band. “That's a lovely ring. I'm so relieved you married West and will be guiding our little Lucy. I can tell you had a hand in helping Lucy get dressed this morning. I bought that adorable dress for her a few months ago.”

Annabel smiled. “Her closet is full of pretty clothes. But I guess West isn't up on little girl fashion the way Lorna had been. I had to explain to him what leggings are.”

Instead of responding, Raina turned her attention to Lucy and called out, “Lucy, let's head over to the library and pick out a few books. We can finish our drinks on the way.”

Interesting. The woman changed the subject whenever her daughter's name came up. Was talking about Lorna too painful?

At the library, Lucy picked out three books, then sat on her nana's lap, her head leaning against Raina's chest as Raina read, with great feeling, from a picture book about a beagle.

“Beagles are my favorite kind of dog,” Lucy said, tapping the two illustrations of the beagle on the page.

Raina kissed the top of Lucy's head. “I know. That's why I wanted to read this book. You're lucky to have such a sweet beagle at home.”

“I gave Daisy only one bite of my eggs this morning,” Lucy whispered. “I used to feed her a lot more, but Daddy cooks so good now.”

Raina winked at Annabel and gave Lucy a kiss on the cheek. “I'm very glad to hear that. Annabel must be a very good cooking teacher.”

Lucy shot Annabel a big grin. “Can you read more, Nana?”

Annabel watched grandmother and granddaughter, confused by Raina Dunkin. One minute she was insufferable, putting down West or complaining about a chocolate smoothie, and the next she was being absolutely lovely.

When Raina finished reading, Lucy darted off her lap and raced over to shelves of picture books. “Lucy, little ladies don't conduct themselves that way. Come back here and sit on my lap and slide off properly, then walk to the shelf.”

“Yes, Nana,” Lucy said, walking back over, climbing onto her grandmother's lap, then gingerly hopping off and walking slowly over to the shelf and pulling out a book.

Back to insufferable in five seconds flat, Annabel thought.

“Raina! How lovely to see you,” came a voice Annabel thought she recognized. She glanced over at the woman, similar age to Raina, kissing her on the cheek, a little boy holding a small truck beside her. “Oh, look at darling Lucy. She looks so much like Lorna, doesn't she?”

Raina gave the woman a tight smile, then glanced at Annabel. “We'd better run, Annabel. Lucy, come, dear.” She turned to the woman. “So nice to see you. Give my best to Dave.” Then she hurried Annabel and Lucy toward the checkout desk, making small talk with the librarian.

Outside, Raina seemed back to herself, chatting with Lucy about school and her teacher. As they were nearing Hurley's, across the street, Lucy called out, “It's your restaurant, Annabel.”

Annabel looked over at the apricot Victorian shining in the sun, the new sign so much more welcoming than the peeling one had been. “Tomorrow when I'm cooking at lunchtime, I'm going to bring you and Daddy some of our delicious mac and cheese.”

Raina looked shocked. “Surely you're not returning to that hot kitchen. Your place is at the ranch, looking after the house and Lucy.”

Annabel knew full well that Raina Dunkin had been a real estate agent for two decades, all during Lorna's childhood, so surely she understood that some mothers and stepmothers chose to work or needed to work. Something else was motivating Raina, underneath all this...prissiness, but Annabel didn't know what and couldn't put her finger on what was poking at her.

“I'm going to be working at Hurley's part-time at lunch to keep my hand in,” Annabel explained. “And taking on more of a managerial role.”

Raina lifted her chin. “As long as it doesn't interfere with caring for Lucy.”

Annabel had to remember that she'd married West to save his family. Arguing with Raina over staying home or working full-time or part-time wasn't appropriate. Her marriage wasn't real. So her conversations with Raina should follow suit.

Wait a minute. That was absolutely unacceptable. She wasn't going to pretend to be something she wasn't. She was married to West—that wasn't a lie. She would be herself, holding her tongue if it didn't really make a difference. But now
was
a time to hold her tongue.

“Mrs. Dunkin! How nice to see you!”

That was a voice Annabel would never forget. A high-pitched drawl that used to mock Annabel back in high school. Francie Heff, who'd been one of Lorna's best friends. Annabel hadn't even noticed that they'd stopped right in front of the storefront where Clyde Heff would be opening his Burgertopia and stealing business from Hurley's.

Francie's gaze went right to Annabel's ring. “So it's not just some crazy rumor. You really are married to West Montgomery!” She tapped Lucy's nose as some sort of greeting.

“I really am,” Annabel said, forcing a smile.

“Annabel is a wonderful stepmama to our sweet Lucy,” Raina said, squeezing Lucy into a hug.

Francie looked Annabel up and down with something of a sneer, then turned to Raina. “Well, Mrs. Dunkin, I still expect you and Mr. Dunkin to come eat at my daddy's new burger café. We're going to have a big grand opening on Friday—doors open at four-thirty. I hope you'll both come. Of course, I won't expect you, Annabel, since our goal is to run Hurley's right out of business.” She laughed as though she were making a joke, but she clearly wasn't. She smiled at Lucy, bending her knees, her hands on her hips. “I'll bet you like hamburgers. I'm going to have a special kids' menu. Oh my, you look so much like Lorna. I miss my old friend so much. You poor baby, Lucy. You must miss your mama something fierce. Tell you what. On opening day, you come and I'll make a special burger just for you.”

Lucy could barely muster a smile.

“Thank you, Francie,” Raina said. “I'm not sure of our schedule, but if we're free of course we'll come. Give my best to your father.” Raina held tightly to Lucy's hand and hurried her down the street, Annabel following quickly.

One glance at Lucy and she could see the girl's face crumpling. “I do miss Mommy.”

“Now, now,” Raina said, patting Lucy's back. “You have Annabel to take good care of you. I can see she adores you.”

That was all true and well and good, but it didn't address the fact that Lucy was crying about her mother, and her grandmother was dismissing that.

But Annabel wouldn't. She kneeled down in front of Lucy. “Honey, it's okay to cry and miss your mother. I miss my mother too.” She pulled Lucy into a hug.

A few seconds later, Raina said, “Well, it's five, so I'd better head home. Give your nana a big ol' hug, my sweet girl,” she said to Lucy. Lucy sniffled and very robotically hugged her grandmother. “I'll see you both on Sunday for dinner—at your house, honey,” she added to Lucy.

Then she turned on her heel and headed down Blue Gulch Street, her shoulders stiff, Annabel thought.

There was more to Raina Dunkin than met the ol' eye. That much Annabel knew for sure.

Chapter Ten

A
fter playing tea party with Lucy and her Eeyore collection, West went down into the kitchen to find Annabel. From the look on her face when she'd come in an hour ago from her girls' day with Raina and Lucy, he figured she'd experienced a little bit of his world.

Annabel was standing in front of the sink. He came up behind her and peered over her shoulder. She was scrubbing baking potatoes. He breathed in the scent of her and wanted to lift her silky auburn hair and kiss the back of her neck. She wore jeans and a yellow sleeveless shirt and was barefoot, her toes a bright pink with orange dots, which he assumed was Lucy's doing. He smiled, imagining his little girl's delight in polishing Annabel's nails.

“I'll do that,” he said, forcing his attention from the curve of her hips to what she was doing, then taking the scrub brush. He wanted to do all the cooking while he had Annabel here to teach him. “Never knew you were supposed to clean potatoes. I just usually run them under water and toss them in the oven.”

Annabel slid over a bit, leaning against the counter. “Well, to be honest, most everything I do in the kitchen is because that's how my mama did it. Then when my grandmother took me in, I learned her ways also. Now I have a mishmash.”

“Speaking of grandmothers, how did today go?”

Annabel poured herself a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar and then slumped down on a chair at the table, which told him the day hadn't been all smoothies and shopping. “A little bit exhausting.”

West laughed. “No doubt.”

Annabel sat up straight. “West, why doesn't Raina like to talk about Lorna? I noticed she clams up or changes the subject whenever her daughter comes up in conversation. And today, Lucy said she missed her mother and Raina, well, she didn't really address what Lucy said but tried to comfort her with ‘well, you have Annabel now.'”

He mentally shook his head.
That woman...
“I've witnessed that myself many times over the past year.” He put down the scrub brush and pricked the potatoes the way Annabel had shown him the other day, then was about to carry the plate over to the oven when he remembered to rub them with a little olive oil and season them with some salt and pepper. He was slowly getting the hang of this cooking thing.

A minute later, the potatoes were baking, his oily hands were washed and he sat across from Annabel with his own coffee.

“Have you ever talked to Raina about it?” Annabel asked.

Ha.
The last time he did Raina's head practically exploded she'd gotten so angry at him. “I've tried. But you know Raina. And the relationship between her and Lorna was complicated.”

Annabel sipped her coffee. “They didn't get along?”

“They had their good days, but things were mostly strained between them. Lorna had once said she couldn't remember a time when they saw eye-to-eye, even when she was a kid. Raina was a Miss Texas runner-up and all about poise and appearances, and Lorna was a wild child. She liked heavy makeup and skimpy clothes and flaunting her body, and Raina hated that. Lorna told me her mother actually paid her to tone down the makeup and dress respectably for school, five dollars a day, and then she'd get to school and put on her makeup and change into her tight shirt and miniskirt and heels in the bathroom before the first bell. And Raina's a big believer in education taking a person places, but Lorna wanted to drop out at sixteen and try her hand at modeling. Raina and Landon paid her to stay in high school.”

“Wow,” Annabel said. “I'm all for being who you are, but I can definitely understand the Dunkins' side there.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” West said, topping off his coffee. “Then I came along. I guess I don't need to point out that I wasn't what they had in mind for a son-in-law. When Lorna told her parents she was pregnant, that I was the father, I was living in hand quarters on the Piedmonts' ranch, making close to nothing.”

“How did you two meet?'

“She was a year behind me in school, like you, but I'd seen her around the halls and in town. We first met when her friend, Francie, I think her name is, dared Raina to walk up to me my senior year and put her hand on a certain part of my anatomy. Over my jeans, I mean.”

“Classy,” Annabel said, grimacing.

He laughed. “That was Lorna and her little posse in those days. And Lorna took the dare. I have to say, I was pretty surprised. She did it right in the middle of the hallway. She told me there was more where that came from, but I wasn't interested in Lorna back then.”

Annabel's eyebrows rose. “Really? She was a knockout.”

“I guess, but you can't pick what attracts you, you know? Back in high school I had my eye on my science lab partner, a girl named Lorraine. She had a mathlete boyfriend and they went off to Harvard together, but I had a big crush on her.”

Annabel laughed. “I remember Lorraine Haskell. She was valedictorian of your class. She wore glasses and dressed in pantsuits every day.” The smile faded. “So you're telling me that Lorraine in her glasses and pantsuits was your type and sexy Lorna Dunkin wasn't?”

“That's right.” It was true.

Annabel nodded slowly and he had no idea what was going on in that mind of hers, but to be honest, he didn't want to talk about Lorna or the old days. He'd made mistakes then, mistakes that had both terrific and terrible consequences, and he didn't want to get into all that. And he didn't want to be reminded of what his parents had said about him and Annabel. His folks were probably looking down on him right now, shaking their heads at the predicament he was in, what he'd dragged Annabel into.

“I'd better get the pork chops going,” he said, standing up, a sudden cold deep in his bones.

She was looking at him as though trying to figure out what was going on in
his
mind, but he really just wanted to be alone right now to shake off the past and focus on the now, which involved getting good enough at cooking to impress Raina Dunkin on Sunday.

“I'd be happy to help,” she said. “I know you've been up and working the ranch since before sunrise.”

“Thanks, but I've got it. I want to make Sunday dinner for the Dunkins. So I need all the practice I can get.”

She nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, and part of him wanted to run after her and hold her close and tell her he had no idea what the hell he was doing, that he was trying blind, and he was so damned relieved she was here, helping him, guiding him. But the need in him bothered him and he tamped it down, getting the meat from the refrigerator and setting it on the counter, no idea what to do with it.

He went over to the folders of recipes, pulled out the one marked Dinner and flipped through the pages until he found Gram's Famous Barbecue Pork Chops, determined not to screw up the sauce the way he did the last time he attempted it.

It occurred to him when he was sautéing the onions, butter and garlic in a saucepan that he and Annabel never did finish talking about Raina's habit of shutting down Lucy when his daughter talked about her mother. He'd pointed it out to Raina once and she'd snapped at him to mind his own business, as though his daughter's heart wasn't his business. She'd bitten his head off when he'd pointed
that
out too. So he'd just made a point to override Raina when she'd try to change the subject if Lucy needed to talk about her mother.

One by one he added the rest of the ingredients for the sauce, pretty sure that chili powder and ancho were the same thing, and wondering if his wife, who spoke her mind, God bless her, would soon find herself butting heads with Raina Dunkin.

He really wasn't sure who'd win.

* * *

The sight of the apricot Victorian made Annabel's heart skip a beat on Wednesday morning. She'd missed Hurley's so much. She'd worked the lunch shift yesterday, grateful that Martha was back and that she and Hattie and Harold got along so well. Plus, once the lunch rush had stopped, she'd gone into the office and taken care of the business end, going over inventory and bills, and she'd also hired two more waitresses to take some of the pressure off Clementine, who was so good at her job and knew the menu inside and out that she was like three waitresses.

Being back here, even just for a few hours every day, was like a balm. The last two nights she'd tossed and turned to the point that West had turned on the light and asked if she was having a nightmare.

She sort of had been. Maybe it was dumb, but she couldn't get West and his schoolboy crush on Lorraine Haskell out of her mind. Annabel had looked up to the smart, focused older girl, with her bookish ways and scrawny figure, who always seemed so confident. Lorraine Haskell never wore a stitch of makeup and her chest had been even flatter than Annabel's as a sophomore. So if that was West's type, then why had he thrown her over for sexpot Lorna, who went around grabbing guys in the privates?

That night, seven years ago in his barn, when he'd talked so openly, his heart broken, his soul battered, about the loss of his brother and how devastated he was, how alone he was, she'd known that the boy she'd been secretly in love with for years was everything she imagined he was. Annabel was a moment away from ripping off her own jeans and letting him take her virginity, and then West had thrown cold water on them both and they'd left the barn. She remembered seeing his parents outside, noted that they'd all but ignored him. The next day after school, she'd expected to find him waiting for her on “their” rock, but she'd been in for quite a surprise. He'd been on that rock with Lorna, the two of them passionately making out, his hand up her sweater, her hand in the same place she liked to grab in hallways.

He'd never sought Annabel out and she rarely saw him around town except once or twice with Lorna's arm around his waist, her hand in his back pocket.

Why, then? Why would he ignore the girl who was his supposed type, one he'd just spent an amazing, emotional, sensual experience with, for a girl he'd supposedly not been interested in? What could possibly have happened between Annabel leaving that night and the next day after school? It made no sense.

And instead of just asking him, she tossed and she turned and fretted and wondered and came up with nothing.

Uh, West, why did you take up with Lorna the day after you were with me—especially considering you liked the scrawny, bookish type?

Maybe she was afraid of the answer. That it wasn't about type. It wasn't about checklists. It was about chemistry. It was about The Person. And Annabel just hadn't been That Person for West. She wasn't Lorraine Haskell and she wasn't Lorna Dunkin.

He just wasn't that into you. And he still isn't.

A shiver ran up Annabel's spine that had nothing to do with the April breeze coming through the open window of the small office. She closed the window, grimacing at her great view of Clyde's Burgertopia and the bright red sign announcing Grand Opening—Friday! Free Side of Hand-cut Fries or a Loaded Baked Potato with Every Burger!

The baked potato reminded her of Monday night's dinner at the ranch. West had undercooked the pork chops because he'd been afraid of burning them, but his barbecue sauce—Gram's fifty-year-old recipe—was spectacular, and the baked potatoes had been crackly on the outside and soft on the inside. She'd never been so glad for undercooked pork chops in her life because it meant he still needed cooking lessons—still needed her. The pork chops had gone back under the broiler, but West had been elated about his sauce and the potatoes, and when the pork chops were ready they were perfection.

Last night, though, was another story. While Annabel was giving Lucy a fun spa bath, West had been making Cajun chicken po'boys, but one of his ranch hands had called to say a calf had escaped the pen, and by the time West returned to the grill on the back deck, Annabel had gotten Lucy out of the bath because of the smell of smoke rising to the second-floor window, and they'd found the cutlets burned beyond recognition.

“I'll bet Daisy will eat them,” Lucy had said, but Daisy gave the air a sniff and padded away.

The look of disappointment—in himself—on West's face had been heartbreaking, and he insisted on trying again. Second time, success. But the incident had bothered West; Annabel had been able to tell that all through dinner as West politely listened to Lucy and chatted with her about this and that, but Annabel could see he was distracted. She'd tried to talk to him about it last night, let him know that these things happened and between taking care of a family, a new wife—especially given their cough-cough
arrangement
—and calving season, he had his hands full. Besides, she'd been there and if the grill had caught on fire, she could have dealt with it.

What if the Dunkins had been over when it happened?
he'd said, shaking his head, his expression grim.
They would have said I shouldn't have left the grill unattended. That Lucy could have come out here to play and burned herself. Damn it, I'm her father and I can't be trusted with her. They're right.

She'd tried to tell him they weren't right, that all parents made mistakes, that the Dunkins had likely made their share. But he'd stomped around between the barn and the house that night after Lucy went to bed.

And then it had been his turn to flip around in bed, and the only thing that had stopped it was when she'd put a hand on his back, meaning to calm him, and he'd gone still and hadn't moved again.

She'd sighed to herself, her eyes welling, and she'd been so exhausted she'd fallen asleep.

Was this what people meant when they said marriage was hard work? Surely not in the first week. Then again, the Montgomerys of Blue Gulch were hardly your typical newlyweds.

Annabel's phone pinged with a text. From her gram. Annabel smiled. Clementine had taught Gram to text when she got sick and it had taken a few days, but Gram had gotten the hang of it.