Lead Me Home

She pointed a finger at him. “Napkin. You need a napkin.” Hurrying to one of the drawers in the array of oak cabinets, she pulled out a hunter-green cloth napkin and handed it to him.

“Thanks, but I can use paper.”

“Not in this house. Sarah believes paper napkins have eroded the elegance of the dining experience, not to mention cluttering up the landfill, so it’s a rare occasion when she allows them.”

“I respect that view.” Matthew spread the napkin across his thighs. “This looks and smells delicious.”

“Like I said, I’m not a trained chef. I just like to cook.” She sat across from him, her expression anxious.

He raised his wineglass, which he hadn’t touched because he’d been waiting for her to sit down. “Here’s to your passion for cooking.”

“I guess I can drink to that. It has brought me pleasure over the years.” She touched the rim of her glass to his and took a sip of her wine.

He followed suit before setting the glass down and picking up his fork. He could feel her apprehension from across the table and knew that even if the food tasted like swill, he’d praise it to the skies.

It didn’t taste like swill. Closing his eyes, he savored the first bite of gourmet food he’d eaten in some time. Then he looked at her. “This is awesome.”

The tension went out of her shoulders and her smile lit up the room. “Really? You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

“Hell, no. You have a gift, and I plan to enjoy it, so pardon me if I don’t make conversation for a few minutes.” He tucked back into the meal.

Her sigh was audible. “I’m so relieved. You know, I’m probably too sensitive, but I’ve had the feeling since I got here that not everyone loves my cooking. But, like I said, I’m probably imagining it.”

No, you’re not. But he said nothing. He had a mouthful of food, and besides, he hadn’t quite decided on his approach.

“I did see one of the kids smuggling his lunch into a plastic bag once, and I heard another one saying something about the dogs.”

“Mmm.” He couldn’t eat and talk, but he could eat and admire the way her shoulder-length blond hair caught the light from the lamp hanging over the kitchen table. That glorious hair would look terrific spread out on a pillow.

“I’ll bet the boys think it’s fun to give the ranch dogs a treat,” she said. “We’re not allowed to feed table scraps to Sarah’s bassett hound because he’s a couch potato. The other two, though, Butch and Sundance, get tons of exercise so a few handouts are okay. The kids are always playing with them.”

Matthew was beginning to come up with a strategy. He took another bite, partly because he liked the food immensely and partly because he’d read somewhere that chewing helped a person think.

But he took a moment between mouthfuls to get in a comment. “It seems a shame for wonderful food like this to be given to a dog.”

“They’re kids, and disadvantaged kids at that. They don’t know it’s special.”

“I’m not sure the cowboys do, either.” He forked up another portion.

“Maybe not, although they seem appreciative that I’m cooking for them, and the food all disappears, so they must like it okay.” She took a swallow of her wine.

He watched the movement of her lovely throat and imagined brushing it with his mouth, then nuzzling…. Hell. Just like that, he’d drifted from his charted course. He finished chewing and pulled his focus back to the problem. “If the ranch hands were better educated about food, they’d be raving.”

“Would they? I thought cowboys were the strong, silent type.”

“Not when it comes to food.”

She gazed at him, her green eyes serious. “Are you saying they really don’t like what I’m fixing?”

“I’m not saying that.” And he wouldn’t say it even if somebody shoved slivers under his fingernails. “I only have Jeb to go by, because he’s the one I talked to on the drive from the airport, but since he didn’t brag about the food here, I think it might be a little too sophisticated for his taste buds.”

“Hmm.” She took another sip of wine. “You could have a point.”

“But maybe it’s just Jeb.” He returned his attention to his plate.

“I don’t think so. Mary Lou left some recipes for me, but they were all so boring that I put them away. I know what you mean about the lack of enthusiasm from the cowboys, but I thought maybe they just didn’t care that much about what they ate.”

He thought of Jeb’s rant about how much he missed Mary Lou’s cooking. “I can understand why you’d get bored fixing the kind of food Mary Lou made. I’m guessing her recipes are for ordinary things like fried chicken, ribs, potato salad, stuff like that.”

“Exactly! From what I could tell, she’s been making the same kind of meals for years, and I thought everyone would like a change of pace.”

“That’s a good idea, but maybe it was too sharp a turn for them, considering they’ve probably never eaten gourmet food before.”

She nodded. “I can see that might be a possibility.”

“I have an idea for an experiment, if you’d like to hear it.” And boy, did he like this idea. He hoped she would.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“I know plain food and I know gourmet food, so I could be your consultant and taste-tester while I’m here. We could look for recipes that are fun for you, but give a nod to the sort of food the cowboys are more used to. And then we could see what happens.”

“That would be great, but I can’t believe you have time to spare. You’re here to work with Houdini, not help in the kitchen. I don’t think Sarah or the Chance men would go for it.”

He’d anticipated that argument. “I won’t be training Houdini at night. After several hours of work, we’ll need a break from each other.”

“Yes, and you’ll probably be exhausted.”

He smiled. If she only knew how much the prospect of spending time with her would revitalize him. “I might be physically tired at the end of the day, but all we’d be doing is going over recipes and planning menus.” He could imagine other activities, too, but he wouldn’t count on it. She might not be the least bit interested in him.

“I’d want you to clear it with Sarah, and make sure she knows it wasn’t something I asked for. They’ve been really good to me, and I don’t want them to think I asked for extra help.”

“I’ll check with Sarah, but I really doubt she’ll object.” He had a hunch she’d be overjoyed if he stepped in and made some menu adjustments. Pete Beckett might have taken the kids to the diner tonight to stave off a revolt.

Aurelia gazed at him. “You’re a very nice man, Matthew, to offer this when you probably should be relaxing down at the bunkhouse instead of coming up here to work.”

He felt a pang of guilt. Although his original intent had been to help the cowhands out of a jam, now the plan was mostly an excuse to hang around Aurelia and get to know her better. He wasn’t sure where that might lead, and he might be making a huge mistake.

She had home and hearth written all over her, and he couldn’t offer her anything along those lines right now. But maybe, despite outward appearances, she wasn’t looking for permanence. He’d never know unless he asked.

His plate was empty, and so was his wineglass. He should probably leave now. The boys in the bunkhouse expected him for a game of cards and he’d had a long day.

On the other hand, Aurelia had indicated a willingness to go along with his plan, and her cookbooks were still on the table. He glanced at them. “We could start tonight, if you want.”

“Tonight? Oh, no. You must be jet-lagged. Besides, I’ve already narrowed it down to either spinach soufflés or ratatouille for tomorrow, so I’m okay for the time being. If Sarah agrees, we can start tomorrow night.”

“I’m really not that tired.” Adrenaline had kicked in the moment he’d walked into the kitchen and caught sight of her. He hesitated. “Can I say something about your two options?”

She waved a hand. “Be my guest.”