Craving a Real Texan--A Western romance Read online

  Thank goodness. “Excuse me,” she said to him as she made a beeline to the checkout stand. She kept her head down and paid for her groceries. Once she was out of the store, she sighed in relief.

  But that small triumph didn’t keep her from trembling down to her toes, from feeling totally exposed and vulnerable again. The things they were writing about her weren’t true. She wasn’t a heartbreaker, or fickle or cruel. She hadn’t played games with Dale’s heart. She hadn’t meant to hurt anybody. All she’d wanted was to find love, the long-lasting kind, and share a life with someone she felt connected to. The entire world seemed to think Dale being a chef like her meant they were perfect for each other, and for a time, she’d believed it, too. But it seemed the only real flames they’d sparked were at the kitchen stovetop. And her only real crime was that she’d found out too late she really admired Dale, the chef, but she didn’t like Dale, the person, all that much.

  She rushed back to the cabin in half the time it had taken to get to the store and put her groceries away. Her hands still shaking, she donned her pink-and-white polka dot apron and began putting together a salad. Cooking always relaxed her. It was the balm she needed now after seeing that tabloid. She ripped the kale and tossed it in a bowl, then chopped fresh broccoli and slivered cabbage strips. Calmer now, she began humming, grateful to Lily for giving her this chance to hide out and clear her head. Her cell phone rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  Which wasn’t good when you were holding a knife. A quick glance at her cell confirmed it was her friend calling. Thank goodness. “Lily, hi.”

  “Hi, Harper. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going. I’ve settled in and love the place. But I just saw a photo of myself on the front page of a tabloid at the tiny market here, so I guess the story is still going strong.”

  “Sorry, Harp. Give it some time. It should get better.”

  “I hope you’re right. It’s hard to see that right now. And you, my friend, didn’t tell me that this cabin is more like a dream home. I mean it, Lily. The place is beautiful. Thank you, a thousand times thank you for letting me stay here. It’s so generous of you and your family.”

  “Well, uh, about that. I do have one teeny, tiny favor to ask you.” Lily’s voice went up two octaves, almost to a squeak.

  “Anything. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Okay, well. You might change your mind when you hear what it is.”

  “I’m listening, Lil.”

  “My big brother, Cade, is on his way up to the cabin, too. Sorry, but my mother and I didn’t coordinate on this, and honestly, sometimes a whole year goes by before anyone uses the place. But the truth is, ever since his fiancée passed away, Cade’s been working himself to death. You’ve never gotten the chance to meet him but he’s a really good guy and he’s never given himself time to get over his loss. Now his blood pressure is way up. He’s not eating right, either, and his doctor has warned him to slow down and take better care of himself. He ordered him to take a vacation. Which Cade didn’t want to do. At all. My mom had to use clever tactics to get him to agree to leave work.”

  “Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that. I guess,” she said, nibbling on her lip, feeling a crushing blow coming her way, “I’d better leave.”

  “Don’t be silly. You have nowhere else to go. I know that and you know that. Your disguise is working, but maybe only because you’re in a small town and not under intense scrutiny. You can stay. It’s a big place.”

  “But—”

  “If we tell Cade the truth, he’d insist on leaving and letting you have the cabin. He doesn’t want to be there, and this would only give him an excuse to go back to work. Which he cannot do. He needs to relax.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “Well.” Lily’s voice lowered. “I’ve already cleared this with my mother. She’s adamant that he stay. So what if we say my mother hired you to be his personal chef?”

  “What?”

  “You are a chef, Harper. And he hasn’t been eating right. It’s not out of the norm for my mother to do something like this.”

  “You want me to pretend I was hired by your mother?”

  “Yes, but you’d have to use a different name. Even though you haven’t met him, he’s heard me talk about my friend Harper. He’d never recognize you from the show. The man never turns on the TV. Other than sports, that is. He wouldn’t be caught dead watching a reality show. It could work. And it’s only for a week or two.”

  “But—”

  She heard a car pull up into the driveway, fallen leaves crunching under the tires. Oh no. Her pulse raced. She had little time to think. “He’s here.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lily whispered in a rush.

  What could she do? Lily was a dear friend. She’d put herself out to help her, and Lily’s brother’s health was at stake. It didn’t seem as if she had a choice. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll tell him Rose hired me to cook for him.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s a relief. Thank you, Harper. We’ll talk soon and—”

  “Gotta go. I hear him at the door.”

  “Okay, good luck.”

  She ended the call just as a key was turning in the lock at the front door. She stood there, waiting, holding her breath. And the irony hit her smack upside the head. She’d gone from one crazy scenario on a reality show to another nutty scheme within a blink of the eye. Oh boy, what happened to the quiet girl who’d loved to stay home at night testing recipes, happy to have the role as head chef in her hometown restaurant? Where had that girl gone?

  She stared at the front door, making no attempt to go and open it. A tan duffel bag was tossed through first, landing inside the foyer. And then the man followed, carrying a piece of black luggage.

  Her heart pounded as he made his way over the threshold. “You,” she said almost inaudibly. It was the man from the market.

  He startled and shook his head as if seeing things. Had she scared him? Immediately, their eyes met. Oh wow, those dark eyes again. They touched her in ways she couldn’t name.

  “You’re the girl from the market.”

  She nodded and wiped her hands on her apron. “I am.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, setting down his luggage. He kept a safe distance from her, an honorable act on his part. He seemed sensitive to her possible fear. Then he noticed her apron and lifted his nose in the air. The scent of rosemary-herb chicken wafted up. “Something smells awfully good.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m Dawn.” As in Harper Dawn. Okay, so she wasn’t quick on her feet, but her last name made a good enough first name in this situation. “And I’m your personal chef.”

  * * *

  Cade stared at the woman he’d bumped into thirty minutes ago. She was standing in the kitchen doorway looking at him warily, as if she feared he’d bite her head off. That she was his personal chef gave him pause. “Funny, I don’t remember hiring a personal chef.”

  “You didn’t. Your mother, Rose, hired me.”

  On a sigh, Cade rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t doubt the woman. It made damn near perfect sense. His mother was a woman of action and wasn’t one to take no for an answer. If she’d asked him about it, he would’ve told her he didn’t need a chef. But honestly, deep down, the thought of having someone else around, especially a cook, meant he didn’t have to be totally alone. With his memories. With his grief. With his shattered heart. “That sounds like my mother. She knows I can’t cook a lick.”

  “Not a lick?” she asked.

  “I can boil an egg. Period.”

  “Well, that’s a start.”

  Where were his manners? “I’m Cade,” he said, putting out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dawn.”

  She hesitated a second, then shook it and smiled. A pair of delicate dimples appeared. Bree
had had dimples, too, but with that, the similarities ended. Bree had been a lush redhead, with incredible green eyes and soft porcelain skin. This woman’s eyes were intense blue, her skin a creamy tan, as if she’d spent a lot of time outdoors, and her hair shone in the cabin light, a rich chestnut brown.

  He shouldn’t be comparing the two women, but he found himself comparing women to Bree all the time. And the other women were always coming up short. It wasn’t fair of him. He was better than that. Yet he couldn’t seem to help it.

  “I guess I’ll get settled in, then,” he said. It was awkward, having a young woman living in the cabin. “Do you live nearby?”

  “No. Actually, I live in Barrel Falls, about eighty miles from here.”

  “That’s not far from Juliet County. We’re practically neighbors. So then, you’ll be staying here, too?”

  “Yes, but I promise not to get in your way. I’m...working on a cookbook. So I’ll be testing out recipes and logging my results most of the time.”

  His brows furrowed. “A cookbook, huh?”

  “A dream of mine. But don’t let me keep you from getting settled. I took one of the downstairs bedrooms, if that’s okay. Unless you want it?”

  “No, no. I’ll be fine upstairs.” All four of the bedrooms were master suites, two up and two down, and each one had all the luxuries a person could ask for. He’d never brought Bree to Bright Landing, so at least he had no memories of her here.

  Dawn pointed to the kitchen. “I’ve got a roast chicken keeping warm, and I’m just finishing up on a salad, if you’re hungry.”

  “If it tastes as good as it smells, I’ll be right down.”

  “Okay then.” She fidgeted with her apron. “See you in a bit.”

  He nodded and then climbed the stairs, picking the blue room. It was his favorite, with a killer view of the lake against the backdrop of oak trees and verdant hills. He set his suitcase down and went into the bathroom to wash up. He turned on the faucet and yelped as he splashed the icy-cold water on his face. Then he chuckled, remembering that it took forever to get hot water up to the second floor. He was ten when his folks bought the cabin, and he and his brother, Gage—and Lily, too—would fight over who’d get the downstairs rooms for that very reason. In this case, the cook—or rather, his personal chef—had the honors. But now that he was older, he didn’t mind waiting for warm water if it meant waking up to the hillside panorama.

  Cade was dressed in a fresh change of clothes within ten minutes. He combed his dark straight hair back, noting that the thick mop was in need of a cut. He hadn’t thought he’d have to worry about his attire up at the cabin, but now that Chef Dawn was here, he’d need to take better care of his appearance. He hadn’t brought much in the way of clothes, just jeans, T-shirts and a few sweaters. He wasn’t planning on being here all that long. Ten days at most. With nothing to do.

  “Man,” he muttered, glancing at himself in the mirror and seeing a forlorn face staring back at him. “This isn’t going to be fun.”

  He opened his luggage and pulled out a framed photo of Bree and him when they were at their happiest. He had his arm around her, and they were smiling into the camera, love shining in their eyes as they stood on stage right before one of Gage’s concerts. They’d been in Austin at the time, and they’d gotten the VIP treatment. Bree had been fascinated and thrilled, but instead of going gaga over his superstar brother, as so many of his dates had, Bree focused all of her attention on Cade, giving him sweet smiles and loving kisses. It was the night he realized how much he loved her.

  “This isn’t moving on, is it, Bree?” He smiled sadly and set the photo back in his suitcase, then made his way downstairs.

  “Are you a kitchen eater? Or do you prefer the dining room?” Chef Dawn asked as he entered the room. She held a plate in her hand, ready to dish up the food. The kitchen was spacious, and the light oak table was big enough for ten. The dining area was used only for holidays and special occasions.

  “Kitchen is fine. Unless I’ll be in your way.”

  “Not at all.”

  She set his plate on the counter and dished up the food: roasted chicken and fingerling potatoes with a mixture of herbs that made his mouth water. She drizzled a bit of extra virgin olive oil over the entire meal and then pointed to his place at the head of the table and set the dish down. A salad bowl was already on the table, next to a vase of colorful wildflowers. It was a nice touch.

  “What would you like to drink?” she asked.

  “Let me see what we have.” He opened the double-door fridge and found everything neatly in place: drinks to one side, dairy products on the other, drawers full of cold cuts and shelves filled with baking staples. Chef Dawn had some mighty good organizational skills.

  He grabbed a bottle of water and took his seat at the end of the table. “Water’s good for now.” He might need something stronger later.

  “Enjoy,” she said, removing her apron, folding it and putting it away in a drawer. “I hope you like it.”

  He glanced at the food. “What’s not to like? I can already tell I’m going to enjoy it.”

  “I wish all my other critics were that easy.”

  “I guess they wouldn’t be called critics, then.”

  She chuckled, and the bright sound filled the kitchen. “No, I guess not.” She gestured toward the back rooms. “I’ll, uh, just be in my room. If you want anything else, please let me know.”

  “What? You’re not eating with me?” he asked, as if that was incomprehensible.

  “No, I, uh...no.” She bit her lower lip, and Cade’s gaze automatically ventured there. She had a pretty mouth, sort of heart-shaped, and right now she was nibbling on her lower lip as if it were made of chocolate candy. He had to admit she was a looker, with a pretty face and those deep ocean-blue eyes. “I usually don’t eat with my...client.”

  He was her client? He guessed that was one way of putting it. “You have things to do?”

  “When I’m not cooking, I’m contemplating cooking,” she said. “Working on my recipes or doing research.”

  “Ah, got it. But just so you know, I don’t mind if we share our meals. You’re welcome to join me anytime.” There—he didn’t think he was being overbearing, but in this day and age, one had to be extra careful.

  “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

  She walked out of the room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He took a bite of her food. The chicken was really delicious, with a depth of flavor he’d never tasted before. Actually, he couldn’t remember ever having a better-tasting chicken dish. He had to hand it to her, she was talented. And for what it was worth, this time his mother’s meddling had done some good. She’d hired a great chef.

  He nibbled on the food. It was delicious, but he didn’t have much of an appetite lately. He’d lost some weight in the past eighteen months. Sometimes he could hardly believe it’d been that long. His life had been all planned out. He had direction and drive and was looking forward to marriage and having a family. But fate had interfered, destroying his dream.

  He rose from the table and rinsed off the dishes, putting them into the dishwasher. He wasn’t going to turn Chef Dawn into a housekeeper. He could lend a hand at the cabin. Besides, what else did he have to do for the rest of the day, chop wood?

  He laughed at the notion, then walked into the massive living room and took note that the woodpile on the hearth was almost depleted. Damn, now that he thought about it, what better way to kill off the restlessness that crept up inside him whenever he was alone than to do hard physical labor? Yeah, he liked the idea.

  Cade changed into his hiking boots and went outside, marching around to the back of the cabin, where he found an ax, protective eyewear and a hard hat in the shed. The old chopping block was right where it had always been. “See if I remember how to do this,” he muttered, placing a thick log on the block an
d lifting the ax. One swing later, he was grinning. He loved the strain in his arms, the pull of his muscles as he landed the second blow and split the log. He hadn’t lost his touch. Five logs later, with the sun beating down on him, he removed his black T-shirt and sopped up a layer of sweat from his brow. The sun felt good on his shoulders and back, and as he lifted the ax once again, he heard a female voice.

  “Oh.”

  He swiveled around, ax in hand, and faced Dawn. She was wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts, a blue-plaid shirt and a pair of tan hiking boots. She looked like a modern-day version of Daisy Duke. As a teen, he’d watch reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard, just to catch a glimpse of Daisy in her cutoffs.

  “Sorry.” She gulped and stared at his bare chest.

  She was a good six feet away, but he felt the intimacy of the moment down to his toes. The appreciation shining in her eyes wasn’t lost on him. He was grieving, but he wasn’t totally dead inside. And just for an instant, a spark passed between them. Something unnamed. Something he was better off not defining. Yet it was there, and maybe it was simply a boost to his ego, having a woman gawk at him that way.

  Though she probably had no clue what her eyes were revealing.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m going for a little hike.”

  It sounded like fun.

  “I didn’t know you were back here,” she continued.

  “Yeah, I’m just chopping wood. Need to do something with my time.”

  “I could find something for you to do,” she offered softly.

  His brows rose. Surely she didn’t mean to sound suggestive, but it had come out that way, and all of a sudden, he was imagining all sorts of things they could do with their time together. He hadn’t been with a woman since Bree, eighteen long months ago. He hadn’t wanted to go there, but he was here now, and for the first time, he was thinking about sex. With a Daisy Duke lookalike. He put his head down so she couldn’t read his thoughts.