The Cowboy Rescues a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek) (6 page)

A
s Ned unlocked
the door to Fila’s, he glanced at the darkened building next door. It was far too early in the morning for most people to be up and about, and he wondered if Camila was still asleep, or already getting ready for her day.

Like Fila’s, the windows of Camila’s restaurant were papered over. She had no sign, and there was nothing to suggest that a restaurant was coming, but Ned still had an uneasy feeling when he thought about it. Camila was so outgoing and flashy. Fila was so reserved. Would Camila’s restaurant overshadow Fila’s place and run it right out of business? He sure as hell hoped not.

It was hard to get Camila out of his mind, though, as they entered the darkened space. Ned switched on the lights and showed Fila which toggle operated which lights, then showed her the thermostat and how to adjust it. He took her into the kitchen and showed her the iPod, too. Since Rob had already set up the online station, all they had to do was turn it on.

Ned sensed Fila relaxing as the music flowed through the speakers. She pulled her laptop out of the woven bag she carried it in and set it up on one of the tables in front. He watched helplessly as she worked out how to get connected to the Internet, and breathed a sigh of relief when the instructions Rob had left them worked like a charm. He was useless when it came to that stuff.

“Oh,” Fila said, straightening suddenly. “I read through the material in the envelope you gave me yesterday. I’ve got it in my bag. It all seems clear. Do you want the same order as last time?”

Ned felt a rush of relief. “Yes.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I appreciate it. I’ve got another busy day ahead of me.” He stood up to leave. “Are you going to be okay? There should be plenty for you to do and research.”

Fila stood up too. “I will be okay.”

He hesitated. “By the way. There’s a woman—her name’s Camila. She’s opening a restaurant next door. I thought I should warn you. She stopped by yesterday.”

Fila didn’t know why his words left her feeling so cold. Perhaps it was the way he said them, his glance sliding away as his lips formed Camila’s name. Why was he so hesitant to mention her?

“I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Okay.”

For one brief moment Fila thought he might step forward and kiss her again, or at least touch her arm. But he didn’t. He turned and left, instead.

She wished he’d given her that kiss.

“Did that order
get done?” Luke asked when Ned found him in the barn.

“All taken care of.”

“You run to Mom for help?”

“Nope.” Ned loaded the cart attached to the small tractor with hay a bale at a time, stacking them up carefully so they wouldn’t tip on the bumpy ride to the cattle. He refused to let Luke goad him this morning.

“You ran to someone for help.”

“You through?” Ned turned on him.

“Not by a long shot. Don’t know what Dad was thinking, putting you in charge. I’m the one that oughta take over for Jake.”

“What makes you better than me?”

“I can do the whole job myself, for one thing.”

Here they went. It all came down to reading and writing, everywhere he turned. Did Luke think it didn’t burn him that he had to rely on Fila for help? That he couldn’t help her set up her Internet, or research which class to take before she opened her restaurant? He was hemmed in by his lack of ability every damn day. He didn’t need his little brother to pour salt in the wound.

“Take it up with Dad. I suggest you spell out exactly what your beef with me is, too. That’s bound to get him on your side.”

Luke turned away in disgust and Ned snorted. Yeah, he thought that’s how his brother would react. Given that Holt’s dyslexia was worse than his, Holt wouldn’t have a lot of sympathy for Luke’s feelings on the matter. Holt relied on Lisa to help him with the parts of running the ranch that required paperwork. He wouldn’t have an issue with Ned using Fila.

Or maybe he would.

Ned sighed. He figured his father would come around sooner or later about Fila as long as he stuck to his guns. Keeping the family together trumped everything in Holt’s book, even if he did strut and whine and bellow when he didn’t get his way. All he had to do was weather this particular storm and Holt would find something else to turn his attention to. After all, his second priority was getting his sons married and on the way to producing grandkids. Once he married Fila and they had a child, Holt would be putty in their hands.

As he trundled the load of hay out to the cattle, the problem of his dyslexia churned in his mind, though. He had a lot of years ahead of him. A lot of tasks that required reading. Using Fila to help was one way to skin that cat, but he didn’t like the taste that thought left in his mouth. A man shouldn’t be less than his wife; he knew that for a fact. She might not mind now. He knew Fila felt just as off-balance and uncertain in her new life as he felt when it came time to read. She’d get over that, though.

He’d never get over his dyslexia.

Despite himself, his mind leapt to the woman who’d tested him in grade school. Mrs. Martin, a gray-haired, determined woman who’d sat him down when the results came in and gave him the news in a no-nonsense manner.

“You can beat this, you know,” she’d stated firmly. “It’ll take work and lots of it, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t learn to read.”

In that moment he’d believed her, but when he went home with a packet full of paperwork for his folks, and his mother had described the special tutoring sessions he’d need to attend, his father had pitched a fit.

“No son of mine is going to no
special
classes. I know what that word means and there’s not a thing wrong with Ned’s brain. I won’t have the whole town talking about my son that way.” And he’d kept on going until even his mother gave up on the project.

Ned had been secretly relieved. He knew other kids who slipped out of class when the teaching assistants came to call for them. He knew how the rest of the kids in the classroom snickered and talked behind their backs. He got enough of that already.

But looking back, Ned wondered if he’d made a mistake. Could the problem have been fixed somehow?

Was it too late?

‡
Chapter 8

O
nce Ned was
gone, Fila locked the door behind him and made a slow loop through the restaurant to really take it in. Without the crowd of friends in it, she noticed details she hadn’t seen before—the smooth, polished tables, the geometric designs on the walls, the gleam of the counter, the beautiful frame on the chalkboard waiting for her menu.

Her friends had done their best to create something beautiful for her and it nearly moved her to tears. Just a few months ago she hadn’t known any of them. Now they’d spent their free time and harnessed all their creativity to present something like this to her? She had to succeed—she couldn’t let them down. She tried to imagine how it would feel to run it but found that was beyond her powers.

Returning to her laptop, she tapped her fingers while trying to decide where to start. She wasn’t the whiz on a computer that all her friends seemed to be, but once she’d figured out how to use an Internet browser she’d quickly realized that research was something she thrived on. Today she decided to start with the basics. Typing
how to start a restaurant
into the search engine, she was rewarded with all kinds of sites discussing the topic. She opened a word processing program and began to build a list.

An hour and a half later, she was feeling overwhelmed, but she had managed to locate online courses for the food safety programs she needed and had a basic feel for the steps required to license her business.

Now she needed to plan a menu, so she could make a list of pots, pans, and utensils she’d need to stock her kitchen and to begin to outline an ingredients shopping plan. She knew how to plan a meal for a set number of diners, and how to plan for extras just in case, but she had no idea how to make a plan when she had no idea how many customers might come on a certain evening. What if she ran out? What if she made far too much? If she didn’t do it right, she’d be wasting Ned’s money, and it would take longer to earn enough to pay him back for everything he’d done.

When the knock came on the restaurant’s front door, Fila nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d been so busy trying to crack the problem, she’d forgotten where she was. On the positive side, that meant she felt comfortable enough here not to have a panic attack. On the negative side, her stomach was cramping severely now to make up for that.

She approached the door with trepidation, but when she unlocked and opened it a crack, she saw a woman about her own height and size on the other side of it.

“Fila?” the woman said brightly. “I’m Camila—I’m opening a restaurant next door to yours. Can I come in?”

“Okay.” Fila only hesitated a moment. Surely this slight, cheerful woman couldn’t do her any harm. She held the door open and Camila walked inside.

“I love what you’ve done to this place. It’s really gorgeous,” she said. “I couldn’t wait to meet you. Ned let me in last time and I met some of your other friends when they were fixing up the place for you. You’re so lucky knowing so many people here. I’ve been here a month and I hardly know anyone.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Fila stammered when Camila’s torrent of words came to a halt.

“Isn’t opening a restaurant exciting?” Camila tossed her thick, dark hair. “I can’t wait until the first night. I’m going to have a huge party. Live music and everything. These cowboys won’t know what hit them!”

“That sounds nice,” Fila murmured.

“Nice! It’ll be better than nice! It’ll be spectacular!” Camila crossed her arms in mock outrage. “What about you? What are you going to do opening night?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Opening night is huge. Your whole success depends on it. You have to contact the local paper and radio personalities, try to get them to come so they’ll promote the place for you. You should mail something out to everyone in town, put flyers on people’s cars—lots of things like that. I’ll help you if you like. Women should stick together, right? So—is Ned your boyfriend?”

Fila’s head whirled at her sudden change in topic. “Uh…no!” Was he? She wasn’t sure.

“Oh—good!” Camila grinned. “He’s hot, isn’t he?” She fanned herself with her hand. “I was afraid there wouldn’t be anyone worth dating up here in the sticks. I didn’t want to come to Montana.” Her tone was confidential, leaving Fila no time to formulate the words she needed to say. “But now I see I was mistaken. The men around here are a lot more handsome than I expected. Especially Ned. He looks like he’d be all kinds of fun in the sack!”

Outrage blossomed within Fila. She pulled back. “I think I must get back to work.”

Camila’s expression faltered as Fila shooed her toward the door the way she’d shooed the scrawny village chickens out of her way when they congregated too close to her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—” She broke off, suddenly contrite. “Did I say the wrong thing? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, no,” Fila said. “But I have to go.”

“You’ll come over and see my restaurant, won’t you?” Camila walked to the door reluctantly.

“Another time.” Fila knew she was being rude. She knew she would probably regret it later when she was home alone in her room, but she couldn’t stand to listen to another word of Camila’s banter. What right did she have to imagine Ned in bed?

None.

“Fila.” Camila was truly distressed as she slipped back out the door. “Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. I hoped we’d be friends. I don’t have any friends here.”

“Good-bye,” Fila said firmly and closed the door in her face.

Fila was waiting
by the door with her coat on when Ned came to fetch her for lunch. He tried to gauge her state of mind from her expression, but it was hard to read. Although she wore jeans and cowboy boots, her bearing made her outfit seem far more formal than it was.

“How did your morning go?”

“Very well,” she assured him as they locked up.

“Want to go home or out to eat?”

“Home, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ned!” Camila’s bright voice broke through their discussion and Ned and Fila both turned to see her poking her head out of the door of the building next to Fila’s. “Won’t you come and see the place? I’d love to get your opinion on it! Hi, Fila!”

“Sure thing.” Ned lowered his voice. “That’s Camila—the woman I told you about.” He led the way toward her. “Fila, this is Camila. Camila, this is Fila.”

“We’ve already met, silly,” Camila said, giving his arm a playful punch. “Come on in. Tell me what you think!”

Ned’s stomach tightened as they entered the space. In many ways it was similar to Fila’s restaurant, with a modest seating space up front, a counter splitting the building in two and behind the counter a wall cutting off the front of the restaurant from the kitchen and storage rooms. Camila had painted the upper two-thirds of her walls a vibrant chili pepper red. The lower third was black. A border of chili peppers on a black and white checked background separated the two. The tables and booths were chrome, and there was a counter along the inner wall with chrome stools in front of it. Large mirrors on the side walls created the illusion of more space. The menu on the wall behind the counter had been painted black on a white background, with more chili peppers and black and white checks forming a border around it.