Page 18 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

He heard the front door open and close softly. Heard the footsteps on the wood floors. Then glanced toward the archway, expecting to see Big E. Only it was Kelley. She had changed from her diner uniform into denim shorts with a muted plaid button-down shirt over a soft purple tank top and cowboy boots. She looked comfortable and relaxed. And suddenly, Asher knew what abreath of fresh airtruly meant.

“Bad time?” she asked then shifted the box she carried to one hand and motioned toward the foyer with her other. “Big E was on the front porch having a rather lively video chat with his great-grandkids. After he introduced me to them, he told me to go on in.”

“Sorry.” Asher washed his hands over his face to stop staring at Kelley. She was enchanting for sure, but that was no reason for him to act like a tongue-tied teen with his first crush. He cleared his throat and stuck to the business side of things. “I’m just stumped. This computer has not been touched since Dylan bought it a decade ago.” That only happened because Asher told his brother what model to get that would handle the business books and accounting software. He added, “It seems my brother was the last person to log in.”

Kelley tipped her head and considered him.

“Don’t mind me. You aren’t here to listen to all this. You wanted to know if it’s a bad time.” He stood and moved around the desk then leaned against the front edge. “No. It is not a bad time. I could use a break.”

“I brought after-dinner sweet treats as an apology for earlier at Lucky Lane.” She moved toward him. “I should not have put you on the spot like that.”

He never moved to accept her offering and said instead, “Look, Kelley, about that. I don’t want to be the one keeping you from whatever is waiting for you in New York.”

“That’s just a misunderstanding between Pauline and me.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing for me in New York anymore.”

Loaded statement there. And there once was something in New York for her—he could see that much in her guarded gaze. He nodded and asked, “How long have you been home?”

“Since Christmas.” She adjusted her hold on the treat box and fluttered her fingers as if brushing away a gnat and continued, “It’s not a very interesting story.”

Now, that, he doubted. He found her very interesting. Yet, he could tell from the subtle jut of her chin and pushback of her shoulders as if bracing herself against the memory, that whatever happened in the city was not pleasant.You can keep your secrets, cowgirl. And I’ll keep mine. We can call it even.

“Tonight is supposed to be about the food.” She flipped open the top on the box and said quickly, “Please don’t say no to the catering until you’ve tried my food.”

“I’m thinking it might be possible I already have,” he said quietly. “Back in New York.”

“If you ever ate at Verona Heights in SOHO, then you’ve tasted my food before.” She lowered the lid on the box and said, “I was the Chef de Cuisine there.”

He had, in fact, eaten there. On more than one occasion. It was a favorite lunch spot for his firm’s legal team. He scratched his chin. “I don’t recall seeing you there.”

Her smile was small and brief. “I preferred to stay in the back of the house. My ex-husband worked the front of house.”

That explained why Asher hadn’t recognized her name on the menu. And he assumed her ex-husband was part of that not-so-interesting story she didn’t want to share. He wasn’t asking, either. Getting to know her would tip this evening into something it was not meant to be. He preferred to keep the personal out of his business. And this was about business. It always was. He said, “It seems I have already tasted your food. There’s no doubt I will like whatever you cook. That’s not the issue.”

“You need a cook and I’m offering to cater for you.” Her eyebrows pulled together. Confusion shifted across her face. “I’m not seeing the issue.”

“It’s simple.” And yet, so very complicated now that he realized for the first time in a long while he was reconsidering his moratorium on dating. Of course, that implied he was going to ask her on a date and that she would even accept.I don’t recommend it, cowgirl. He braced his arms on the desk behind him and said, “To be completely transparent, I don’t know if the stable can afford you.”

Her mouth formed an O shape.

He tipped his head toward the old but never used desktop computer and focused on the real problem at hand. After all, his success depended on knowing his strengths and his weaknesses. And relationships had never been part of his skill set. “The financials, it seems, are not where I expected them to be.”

“Maybe Walter used an online app for his banking and accounting records,” Kelley suggested.

Asher shook his head then picked up an old-school flip-style cell phone that he’d discovered in the desk drawer earlier. “The last text Walter sent was more than a year ago. He never much cared for tech things.”

“What about Joe?” Kelley asked.

“Joe only deals with the horses and the employees. Walter handled all the money, including the accounts receivables and payables as well as the payroll. They both called it a beautiful partnership.” Asher stood, opened the accordion-style closet doors and revealed a four-drawer metal filing cabinet. Cardboard filing boxes were stacked on both sides of the cabinet like crooked bookends. “It seems Walter might have had something of a manual process.”

Kelley set the dessert box on a round table between the two tall-backed chairs near the wall. If she noticed his suitcase stashed there, too, she didn’t give anything away or press him. As if she understood it was one of his not-so-interesting stories about how he was avoiding the bedroom wing. Most specifically the room he used to share with his twin. No matter really. He was there for a week. There was little sense in making himself at home.

Kelley joined Asher at the closet and stood close enough that he caught the scent of vanilla and spice. Fitting for his chef, he supposed. Asher tugged on the piece of paper sticking out from the top drawer of the filing cabinet and grimaced. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a paper bank statement.”

“Never,” Kelley said, disbelief tingeing her words.

“My entire life is digital.” Asher tossed the paper statement onto the pile of paperwork strewn on the top of the stack. Frowning, he said, “Everything I need is either in an app or in the cloud. I don’t do paper.”

“Seriously. No paper.” Kelly chuckled and asked, “What if you’re at work and you need to take a note? Surely, you’ve got a notepad or sticky note pad on your desk?”