Page 21 of A Cowboy to Call Her Own

“Those are Blackwell blackberries.” One of her eyebrows twitched, her grin was lopsided, her words unapologetic. “I sort of pilfered them from your property.”

“I didn’t even know we had blackberries around here,” he said. Nor did he know a cowgirl’s gaze could sparkle in the moonlight.

“My sisters and I found the wild blackberry briar when we were exploring our stepmom’s property on one of our weekend visits years ago,” she explained. “You can imagine it has now grown into a very large patch.”

He was less interested in the blackberries and much more caught up on the idea that Kelley might be fairly close by. No more than a horseback ride along the river. He asked, “Are you staying at your dad and stepmom’s place?”

“Only on the weekends.” She shook her head, and a small smile tripped out. “It’s like I’m twelve all over again and my parents are sharing custody.”

Asher eyed her. “Do you mind?”

“It is how it is,” she said and shrugged. “I stopped fighting it back in middle school when I realized my parents were a lot happier apart.”

Are you happier alone? I’m supposed to be. And then he looked into the cowgirl’s pretty eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “You never did answer my question about your blackberry stash. Do you have enough for more turnovers?”

“I’ll check when I get home and let you know.” She chuckled then eyed him. “If not, I know where to find more. Although I suppose I should probably ask permission from the owner.”

“You can have all the blackberries on this property if you keep me supplied in turnovers,” Asher said.

“I can arrange that.”

“Then we have another deal.” He extended his arm toward her.

She set her hand in his.

Asher stilled when he wanted to give a gentle tug. Just enough to suggest he wanted her closer. Just a nudge that would allow her to close the distance if she chose to or walk away. Yet, he never flinched. He kept his fingers wrapped around hers, his expression relaxed and his words casual. “Thanks for lending me your organizational skills tonight.”

“Anytime.” Her fingers flexed around his hand.

Now, that was a miscalculation. He had not considered the possibility that she might pull him toward her. And now he could not seem to stop considering it. He held his breath.I dare you, cowgirl.

Instead, she gave his fingers a firm squeeze and his arm a quick pump then said, “I appreciate you hiring me to cater. You won’t be disappointed.”

He refused to be disappointed now. After all, if she wasn’t returning to the city, Asher understood there could be nothing more between them than a professional relationship. He released her hand and said, “Until tomorrow, chef. Sweet dreams.”

She climbed into her car, started the engine and rolled down her window to call out, “Good night, Asher.”

He watched until her taillights disappeared around a bend then headed inside. And realized it was a good night. The first he had had in a long while. Thanks to a cowgirl chef and her blackberry turnovers.

But that was behind him now. He headed back to the office. He had work to do and one week to get it done. After all, his life was in New York and one “good night” could not change that.

CHAPTER FIVE

Kelley seriously neededto keep the diner doors locked until opening. If only to prevent any more early-morning ambushes like the one they’d had yesterday.

As it was, Pauline breezed through the back door of the Galloping Fork Diner with more energy than necessary for the predawn hour. Then the diner owner clapped her hands, startling Hayes and Kelley out of their morning prep routine. Kelley set a colander of cauliflower in one of the sinks near the cold food station and turned toward her peppy boss.

“I have important news,” Pauline announced. “We will be closing early tonight.”

Kelley dried her hands on her apron and asked, “What’s going on, Pauline?”

Pauline tapped a polished fingernail against her chin. “Last night, I came to the conclusion that there is no time to waste. We must fast-track things and that means getting the ball rolling today.”

Kelley shared a confused look with Hayes. The cook shrugged as if Pauline’s declaration was nothing out of the ordinary and continued cracking eggs into a large stainless steel mixing bowl.

“I’ve got a professional cleaning crew coming in later this evening and a photographer will be here tomorrow,” Pauline explained then gave Hayes an apologetic look. “The kitchen will need to remain pristine all day tomorrow. That means if it can’t be cooked on the grill outside, it can’t be served.”

Hayes released the whisk in the bowl of eggs and shook his head. “That’s impossible.”