The Cowboy Rescues a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek) (3 page)

She just hadn’t expected it to take so long.

“There’s something you could do for me,” Ned said, breaking into her thoughts. “That envelope over there has some information about feed supplements we need to order for the cattle. I don’t have time to look through it today. Think you might take a look? It’d be a help.”

Understanding broke over Fila. He wanted her to read through it because he couldn’t.

It hadn’t taken her long to discover Ned’s secret, once she’d come to live with him. It had been the clue to all that anger and ill-temper everyone else talked about. Ned was a proud man, just like the village men had been back in Afghanistan, and just like them he hated to feel at a disadvantage in any way.

Just like many of them, he couldn’t read.

Fila had missed reading even more than she missed music when she was in Afghanistan, but while she learned to speak Pashto during her time there, she had no opportunity to learn to read it. There was very little in the village to read, and what little there was wouldn’t have been shared with her. She soon realized that ignorance of the wider world was deemed becoming in a woman. Education wasn’t. Fila kept her mouth shut and learned to play dumb. She paid attention, though. She knew what a man looked like when he couldn’t read but wanted to pretend he did. She’d seen Ned act the same way soon after she arrived on the ranch. It didn’t take long to put two and two together. While many Afghan village men might be illiterate, few American men were. She realized the disadvantage Ned was under. Saw how hard he worked to cover it up.

Understanding his secret made the rest of his behavior easy to decipher. And since she didn’t expect Ned to read, she didn’t inadvertently put him into embarrassing situations.

So he relaxed and showed his true nature. Which turned out to be kind of wonderful.

If she could help him in any way in return, she’d certainly do so. “I will read it,” she said, serving him another piece of
bolani
.

Ned tore a chunk off and dipped it into the yogurt sauce. “Thanks.”

‡
Chapter 3

N
ed parked his
truck near the corner of First Street and Main, and hurried to the door of a storefront whose windows were covered up with butcher paper. He let himself in and shut the cold out behind him, blowing on his hands. Warm air washed over him, along with voices from the back of the building. He looked around in satisfaction at the newly refurbished interior.

“Well, what do you think?” Jake said, pushing a broom around the tables and chairs that filled the front half of the small establishment. “They look good, don’t they?”

Ned knew he was referring to the tables, which Jake had built himself. Their natural wooden surfaces were beautiful, as were the booths he’d fashioned to fit along the length of one interior wall. Jake had surprised Ned when he volunteered to help, and he knew he had Morgan—Rob’s wife—to thank for that. All he’d done was mention to her in passing what he meant to do for Fila and she got everyone else on board. Rob had helped Jake with the tables. Hannah, Jake’s wife, and Mia, who was currently living with Luke, had discovered a set of chairs at an estate sale and figured out how to reupholster them. Mia enlisted her friend Rose from the Cruz ranch to help pick a palette of warm colors for the walls, upholstery and other decorative elements. They had debated long and hard about how to theme the restaurant. It was obvious that Fila loved the food of the country her parents came from, but her time in captivity had left deep scars—something she didn’t need to be reminded of each day when she came to work.

Rose, an artist, had suggested they use colors and abstract shapes to give the restaurant an exotic feel, while not using specific details that might call to mind unhappy times. She used earthy reds, yellows and oranges to make the space feel warm, upbeat and inviting. They decided that Fila would add her own touches over time to make the restaurant truly her own.

Rob had installed large chalkboard panels behind the counter where Fila could put up a menu and specials. Rose had created a beautiful chalk border for it, swirling dancing designs around its edges. The restaurant was meant to be a casual eatery, where guests placed their orders and paid at the counter, then found seats for themselves.

Ned had cleaned, serviced and polished every kitchen appliance to a shine. He’d built shelves to hold Fila’s ingredients and placed racks and hooks in every conceivable space to make the storage of pots, pans and utensils as convenient as possible.

Rob had also installed the speaker system, linked to an iPod dock he’d set up in the kitchen. He’d found a site that featured contemporary pop music and was legal for restaurants to play for their customers. The cost was minimal and it would add to the atmosphere. When someone suggested a world music station, Ned had shaken his head. Pop music was important to Fila. She’d missed a decade of it during the years she was abroad and now she was making up for lost time.

Morgan had offered to help design Fila’s promotional materials once Fila was ready for them. She’d already designed a logo for the restaurant, which Jake had carved onto a large wooden sign. The rest would have to wait until Fila had made her menu choices.

Activity ceased in the restaurant as one by one the workers noticed Ned’s return.

“What do you think? Is everything ready?” Morgan asked him, coming out of the kitchen. Mia followed her, her long, dark ponytail swinging.

Ned looked around at the cheerful room with its tables and chairs, the shining counter and display cases that separated the restaurant from the back rooms, the large chalkboard waiting for a menu and the gleaming kitchen through the swinging doors just waiting for its cook.

“I think it’s perfect,” Ned declared. “She’s going to love it.”

A sharp rap on the door had all of them turning to face it.

“Wonder who that is?” Jake said.

Ned crossed to open it and found a woman he’d never seen before on the other side. His first impression was that she reminded him of Fila. Slim and a good eight inches shorter than him, she had long, dark hair, expressive eyes and a south of the border skin tone. Unlike Fila, her hair flowed unbound in wild waves around her shoulders, and her lips were painted a dramatic red.

“Hola!” Her voice reverberated off the small restaurant’s walls as she pressed past Ned and came inside. Nothing shy about her at all, he noted. She wore skinny jeans, high heels and a sweater that hugged every curve, emphasizing her womanliness without coloring her cheap. Her smile was wide as she took in the bright décor and the shine of the display cabinets and countertop. “It looks wonderful! You’ve done a great job!” The woman had just a trace of an accent, which made them all lean forward to catch her words. “I’m Camila Torres. I’m next door.” She waved her hand at the windowless side wall. When no one spoke she elaborated. “I’ve leased the storefront next door. I’m opening a restaurant, too!”

“You’re opening a restaurant?” Ned said. The muscles in his neck tightened. Competition for Fila? That was the last thing she needed.

“Si! Yes! Mexican, with a twist. I add a little of this and a little of that—sometimes I serve traditional dishes. Sometimes I make up something new.” She cocked her head and smiled. “And which of you is Fila?”

“None of us.” Jake moved forward and offered his hand to shake. “I’m Jake Matheson. This is my brother, Ned. My wife Hannah and sister-in-law Morgan. My friends Mia and Rose. We’re all helping prepare the place as a surprise for another of our friends.”

“For Fila?” Camila flashed a bright smile. “I can’t wait to meet her. She is a her, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is.” Hannah came forward to greet her. “Her specialty is Afghan cuisine.”

Camila sucked in a breath, her whole face lighting up in surprise. “Afghan food, here in Chance Creek! Then I’m not exiled to the far wastes of civilization, after all!”

There was a moment of silence at this surprising declaration. Camila laughed, long and loud at their expressions.

“I’ve lived in Houston, Texas for the last eight years. Before that I grew up in Mexico City. I have always been surrounded by hustle and bustle. Then I came here and”—she waved an expressive hand again—“nothing. I live out on the Flying W and I open my door and see”—she shrugged—“nothing! Where is everyone?”

Rose laughed. “I can see how Chance Creek would be a bit of a shock after Houston and Mexico City. You’ll get used to it, though. There’s plenty to see and do here. The trick is making good friends.”

Camila flashed Ned a big smile. “Then I hope I’m well on my way to making a good start.”

“How about this
one?” Autumn pulled a long wool skirt in muted earth tones out of Fila’s closet. “You could pair it with this sweater.” She held up a cream-colored cashmere one. A small, sparrowlike woman normally, now her pregnant belly was large enough to make her clumsy. Fila appreciated that she’d come to help.

“Okay.” Fila brushed out her hair and prepared to rebraid it.

“You could leave your hair down,” Autumn suggested. She’d been the one to take in Fila after she arrived in Chance Creek and she knew without Fila having to explain anything that she dreaded her meal with Ned at the restaurant, but she was doing her best to soothe Fila and help her find the courage to go through with it.

“Why don’t you tell Ned how you feel?” she’d asked when she’d first come over. Fila had just shaken her head and Autumn didn’t push her to explain. Ned had been so kind. He had given her a home, fed her—supported her. Surely she could make it through one dinner in return.

Fila regarded her reflection in the mirror. She knew to anyone in Chance Creek a hairstyle was just a hairstyle, but where she’d spent the last ten years it meant so much more. It was hard enough to sit out in public and eat with a man. Hard enough to walk from truck to restaurant without wrapping herself in a burka. Hard enough to expose herself in a way that still felt dangerous, even after all these months.

But to wear her hair spread over her shoulders like a common—

Fila turned away. “I prefer it up.”

“Okay.” Autumn hung the clothes on the handle of the closet. “I brought something for you, though. I think it will go perfectly with your outfit.” She pulled a small, square box out of her pocket and handed it to Fila. “Open it up!”

Fila did, to find a simple, but elegant pendant inside. Autumn was right; it would go with her outfit beautifully, and there was nothing flashy about it. Nothing that made Fila feel in danger.

“Thank you,” she said to Autumn.

“Get changed. I want to see it on.”

Ten minutes later Fila surveyed herself in the mirror again. She knew she looked old-fashioned with her pinned up hair and pretty, but proper outfit. She wore a pair of plain cowboy boots with her skirt, so she’d fit in at DelMonaco’s. As Autumn had told her with a smile, “You can wear any outfit with a pair of boots and you’ll be just fine.”

Autumn checked the time. “I better go. Ned will be here soon and he won’t appreciate me intruding into your time with him.”

When Fila turned to her in surprise, Autumn just shook her head. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed—that man is sweet on you. I’d bet my last dollar on it.”

Fila walked her to the door, too surprised to even say good-bye. Ned? Sweet on her?

She bit back a smile.

‡
Chapter 4

N
ed knew Fila
had been reluctant to come to DelMonaco’s with him, but first he meant to wine and dine her, and then he’d take her to see her surprise. The others would meet them at her restaurant at seven-thirty. He couldn’t wait to see Fila’s face when she saw what they had done. She seemed nervous now, glancing around the busy dining room and fiddling with the napkin in her lap. She was always a little jittery in crowds. He figured she’d settle in once their meals came. He’d ordered them both steaks, baked potatoes and salad with the house dressing, and he’d encouraged her to try one of the dinner rolls that Sarah-Jane, their waitress, had left on the table.

Fila pulled off a chunk of the roll and nibbled at it nervously, her gaze skidding around the room from one table to another of boisterous eaters. Ned had never realized how loud it got in DelMonaco’s—Chance Creek’s most popular restaurant. Fila was as tightly strung as a deer waiting to bound away to safety. When Fila had first arrived in town, all everyone could talk about was how brave she’d been to escape her captors. Then when she’d been pursued, she’d shown great courage again, trying to trade her own life for the safety of all the others who were there at the shootout.