Читать книгу The Cowboy's Lady - Carolyne Aarsen - Страница 10

The kitchen was a decent size, but somehow Cody’s presence dominated the room. And as he glanced around at the pots, pans, dishes and bowls strewn over every available working space, she tried not to squirm.

Here it comes, Vivienne thought, a prickling dread working its way through her veins. Another failure.

“What is it?” Vivienne wiped her hands on her apron, then clasped them in front of her.

Cody gave her a curt nod of recognition as he slapped his hat against his leg. His blue jeans were coated in dust, as was his loose jacket, and his damp hair was plastered to his head. He looked rough and rugged.

And oddly appealing.

Vivienne wanted to give herself a shake. You’re about to lose a job, and you’re making eyes at the man who’s going to fire you?

She straightened, determined to hold her head up in the face of whatever criticism was coming.

Cody scratched his one eyebrow with a forefinger and sighed. In that moment, Vivienne caught a look of utter weariness fall across his features. He looks exhausted, she thought with a flicker of compassion. Then his features tightened, his eyes narrowed and the moment fled.

“So what’s for dinner?” he asked her.

“Cornish game hens and savory stuffing balls with chocolate mousse for dessert.” Why had it sounded like such a good idea when she was making up the menu and so oddball now that she was saying it out loud to Cody?

Cody’s frown told her exactly what he thought of that menu as he glanced around the kitchen. For a moment she saw it through his eyes. Saw the pots, pans, dishes and bowls spread over every available working space, and she struggled to stay composed.

“I usually keep my kitchen cleaner than this,” she said, clenching her hands tighter to stop herself from fussing and tidying. “But I’m also used to having a couple of assistants.”

“Is that why you got Bonnie to help?”

“She volunteered,” Vivienne said in her defense, knowing exactly how Cody felt about Bonnie hanging around her.

“Stimpy didn’t need help.”

“And he was fired because he was careless,” she retorted.

As were you.

She stifled the accusing thoughts. That was different.

Was it? Careless is careless.

“So why do you need help?”

She gestured around the kitchen. “I think this speaks for itself.” She felt tired just looking at all the work ahead of her.

“I’m sure it would be easier if you made simpler food.”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches is simple food.” The retort came out before she could stop it. “I thought I would give the men something tasty.”

“I don’t know how tasty they thought it was,” he said with a frown. “All I’ve heard was grumbling. Beans and biscuits would have been a better idea than what you dished up tonight.”

Each word was like a blow to her own self-worth. Had she really lost her touch? Was she really such a failure as a chef that she couldn’t even please cowboys?

“I said to keep it simple,” Cody continued.

She rolled her eyes. “What I made wasn’t that complicated.”

“Savory stuffing balls for hungry hands? Seriously?”

Her cheeks tightened at his mockery. “Sorry, I’ll try to dumb down the menu.” As soon as she spoke she realized how brusque that came out.

“It’s just food, Miss Clayton,” he retorted. “Fuel for the body.”

All her training and years of work rebelled against this blunt comment. “Food is more than that. It’s enjoyment. It’s one of life’s pleasures. It’s … it’s …” Her He r outrage at his ridiculous comment left her stumbling around trying to find how to explain how wrong he was.

“Food is calories,” he said, cutting into her explanation. “Just make sure you give my men enough calories to do their job.”

“Calories can still taste good.” Vivienne tried to keep the prim note out of her voice but could tell from his raised eyebrow she hadn’t succeeded. She realized she was butting against a brick wall. For now. “But I’ll still need help even if I’m dumbing down the menu.”

This netted her a heavy sigh. Cody ran his hand over his face and glanced around the cookhouse. “I can’t spare any of the hands. I suppose I could talk to Delores, Grady’s wife.”

Grady, she understood, was one of the few married men who lived in a rented house on the ranch. “Delores has made it pretty clear she’s not stepping foot in the kitchen again,” Vivienne stated. “Which leaves me with Bonnie.”

Cody’s eyes narrowed. Why did it bother him so much?

“I know you don’t like having Bonnie help,” Vivienne continued, “but I also know she’s bored … and bored teenage girls get into trouble. Especially when there’s a couple of young men on the ranch.”

Cody glared at her, but she could tell he was wavering.

“Bryce knows better than to get near my sister, and Cade is engaged to Jasmine Turner,” he said.

“Cade Clayton is a grandson of Samuel Clayton,” Vivienne said sharply. “I know my family thinks he’s a good kid, but I don’t know him well enough to form a positive opinion.”

The history of the Claytons was checkered with double-dealings and backstabbings. A person didn’t have to go too far into the family tree to find the source.

According to Cade’s relatives, her grandfather, George Clayton, had swindled land and money and stolen the woman he’d loved from his brother, Samuel Clayton. Those half-truths and lies had been perpetuated by Samuel’s children and grandchildren. As a result, Vivienne’s side of the family, through George Senior, was hated by Samuel Clayton’s side of the family.

One of whom was Cade. Cade’s own cousins had been behind a string of problems that had dogged her family since Grandpa George’s funeral and will. Had Cade been able to keep himself above the invective spoon-fed to each of his relatives on the Samuel Clayton side of the family? As she had told Cody, Brooke and Zach seemed to like Cade but she still struggled with who he was related to. Les, Vincent, Marsha and the rest never had anything good to say about Vivienne or her family members.

“You Claytons and your family feuds,” Cody said in a voice that clearly expressed his opinion. “I don’t care who did what when, but I trust Cade Clayton.” Then he gave her a cool look she could only assume meant he didn’t trust her. “And as for my sister, I’m not crazy about her working with you, but I agree that she needs to stay out of trouble.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “She can help you in the kitchen once in a while and only when she doesn’t have too much homework, but I want you to know I’ll be watching you.”

“Watching me for what?” Vivienne couldn’t stop the words that burst out of her.

“Bonnie is easily influenced,” Cody said, his voice growing grim. “And she wants like crazy to get away from the ranch. And I know you think Clayton is some hick town and you’ll be leaving as soon as you can.” He stopped there and then waved his hand between them as if to erase what he just said. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. What you do is none of my business.”

Vivienne felt a confusing mixture of anger and shame at his comments. Yes, she was only staying around long enough for the money, and why shouldn’t she? Clayton held nothing for her.

But at the same time, his opinion of her bothered her on a level she didn’t want to examine too hard.

Then he looked around the kitchen again, shaking his head. “For now, I guess you’ll have to clean this up yourself.”

She wanted to make a comment but felt enough had been said for now. Tomorrow was another day.

“One more thing,” he said, dropping his hat on his head. “In the next day or so I’d like to sit down with you and figure out a menu.”

Her back stiffened at his suggestion. “I think I can figure things out for myself.”

“Savory stuffing balls?”

“We covered that,” Vivienne said, struggling to keep her wounded pride in check.

She had to believe the stuffing balls and the game hens were done to perfection. Considering what she had to work with, she thought she had done quite well. So what had gone so badly wrong that the men were so upset? Was she really as bad a cook as her former boss had accused her of being?

Her confidence wavered again, but she held his gaze. “I’ll probably be up before you in the morning. What would you suggest I make for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs. Porridge. I don’t care. Keep it simple and keep it edible.”

There went her plan of Belgian buttermilk waffles with glazed bananas. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Just remember that,” Cody shot back. Then he shook his head and turned to leave.

“You didn’t get your dinner,” she called out, picking up the plate of food she had made up. She wanted him to see for himself what the men had been complaining about. Wanted to find out from him what he thought.

He glanced down at the proffered plate. “Sorry. I’m not hungry.”

Don’t take it personally, she reminded herself as she turned away from him. Maybe he’s really not hungry.

But she couldn’t help feeling that when he rejected her food, he was rejecting her.

Why do you care? After all … he’s a cowboy. You’re a city girl.

Yet, as he left, Vivienne felt as if some vitality and energy had left the room with him.

She brushed the silly feeling aside and turned back to the dirty pots and pans and dishes. She would be here until midnight cleaning up from a meal no one seemed to like. That was enough to make even the most experienced chef depressed.

The next morning Cody stepped inside the cookhouse, his stomach growling so loud he was surprised it didn’t drown out the complaining he heard rumbling through the building. After he left the cookhouse last night, he’d gone straight to his own house. Bonnie was hiding out in her bedroom. So he satisfied himself with a meal of cold cereal while he paid the bills and balanced the checkbook.

As a result, this morning, he was starving. But the sound of the griping going on in the cookhouse this morning made him want to pull his hat over his head and turn and leave.

Then Dover stood up, his back to Cody, and looked around at the gathered men, his meaty hands on his hips. “Okay, so we drew straws to see who goes to talk to her. Cade, you drew short straw, so it’s your job.”

“Give me a break, guys.” Cade Clayton held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t want her mad at me.”

“C’mon. Young buck like you. Those shoulders. That Clayton blond hair,” Bryce teased, giving Cade’s belly a poke. “Rock-hard abs. What’s to be mad about? Besides, she’s your third or fourth cousin or something like that.”

Cade gave him a wry look. “Second cousin. And on the other branch of the family tree.”

“What’s going on?” Cody asked, hanging his jacket on the peg inside the door. As he walked across the wooden floor, his spurs jangled in the quiet.

“Cade drew short straw. He’s gotta talk to his cousin Vivienne about her cooking,” Dover said, scratching his ample belly. “‘Cause I tell you, what’s happened the last two meals isn’t workin’ for us.”

Cody angled his chin toward the empty bowls scattered over the table. “What was for breakfast?”

“Some kind of bread pudding,” Bryce put in.

Cody groaned. What happened to the bacon and eggs he suggested?

“Why don’t you talk to her,” Ted suggested. “She’ll listen to you.” His uncle lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner that made Cody clench his jaw.

“Why do I have to go? You’re as much a partner as I am,” Cody said to his uncle Ted.

Ted shrugged and then winked. “Your shoulders got way more pull than mine.”

Cody nailed his uncle with a sharp look, but Ted wasn’t fazed.

“I don’t have time for this malarkey,” Cody grumbled even as he marched to the kitchen door and shoved it open. Why couldn’t he get anyone on this place to listen to him?

Vivienne stood by the sink, her hair pulled up, looking a lot less flushed than she did yesterday. She hummed a quiet tune, looking content and pleased with herself.

Gold hoops dangled from her ears and she wore a silk scarf around her neck. Like she was all dressed up for something. Or someone. Then she turned and the smile on her face went straight to his gut.

“Good morning, Cody. Is Bonnie coming to help me?” She angled her head to one side and gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

“No.”

Vivienne blew out her breath. “I thought—”

Cody held up his hand. One problem at a time. “She’s finishing up homework she sloughed off last night. She has to get it done before the bus comes to get her.”

“I see. Did you both have your breakfast?”

He shook his head. “Bonnie doesn’t eat breakfast.”

“What?” Vivienne looked horrified. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Hearing her parrot the same words his mom had always said to him gave him a momentary feeling of nostalgia. He waved off her comment.

“Maybe, but I’m not getting into that fight with her,” he said. He had to save his ammunition for bigger battles. Like trying to find a way to spend quality time with his sister, getting his work done and keeping her away from the single cowboys on this ranch.

Once again he wished his parents had sent his sister somewhere else. He didn’t have time to take care of her properly.

“Did you have breakfast?” Vivienne asked.

“Just got here in time to hear the men grumbling. Again. About the food you made.”

Her smile dropped away into a frown and he felt like smacking himself on the head. That came out all wrong, but something about her tangled his thoughts, which plugged up his conversational filter.

“What could the men possibly be groping about now?” she said. “I made a simple breakfast, like you told me. Bread pudding, of all things.” She balled her hands into fists and dropped them onto her hips. “Those ungrateful louses. I spent a lot of time on that breakfast.”

“From the sounds of their grumbling, you might have been better off with porridge packs.”

“Porridge packs? What are you talking about?”

Cody shook his head, trying to comprehend the fact that this fancy, New York chef didn’t understand one of the staples of breakfast out on the trail. “You boil the water. You rip open the porridge packet. You put the two together in a bowl. Stir and eat.”

Vivienne made a face as if he had suggested she use mud. “You can’t be serious. I actually know which ingredients go into the food I cook. None of that butylated hydroxytoluene added to packaging material to preserve freshness.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Vivienne held up her hand. “Work joke.”

“What I am serious about is you doing what I ask. You’ve cooked two meals for my guys, and both times they’ve bombed. Even old Stimpy Stevens didn’t have that bad a track record.”

Vivienne pulled back as if he had hit her. “But … I …” She pressed her lips together and turned away.