Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel (16 page)

And during all of that time, Jett seemed to avoid her. Since she’d put her arms around to comfort him, he hadn’t come to the kitchen. Not once.

He’d hugged her—really held onto her like a drowning man with a raft. But after that, he almost avoided her. At least on the trail, he’d helped with dishes and poured her spicy hot chocolate. They’d shared danger and victory. He’d taught her about riding. And she’d learned from him.

Although they hadn’t talked much out there, they’d come to an understanding. They shared something that felt real.

But now? Now, it just felt odd.

Last week at the funeral, the little town had put Cassie in the frozen ground next to her father while snow swirled around Thelma, Matt, Logan, West, Austin, Jaxson and Cheyenne. Jett stood behind Logan, looking like a bodyguard in a cowboy hat, as if he could defend the family against anything.

But inside, he had to be feeling so frustrated that there wasn’t anything he could do to protect them from the most painful suffering they endured right now.

She missed him. Missed their companionship while riding for rogue cattle. Missed their conversations over dishes and missed sharing hot chocolate with him. But she couldn’t blame him.

The Paycoach family didn’t own grief over the loss of Silas and Cassie. It was Jett’s sorrow as well.

Marlee sighed and set her Bible on the gleaming stainless steel counter and then started the coffee.

The door opened, and Marlee heard boots.

It was early for a cowboy to be inside. It wasn’t breakfast time yet. She’d barely set the coffee on for herself, and outside, stars still shone.

Her heartbeat quickened. Maybe it was Jett.

But it was Logan Paycoach. Haggard lines and dark circles carved grief deeply into his face.

“We’re out of coffee down at the house,” he said.

“Sure,” she said. She scurried to the kitchen to grab a mug. She paused a moment. Should she bring two mugs out? Her southern sense of hospitality told her to sit down and share coffee with the man.

But he was her boss, and he was grieving. And he was a busy man. Maybe he just wanted to take it with him and get on with his day. She peeked around the corner. He was sitting down, cowboy hat on the table next to him, his face in his hands.

She grabbed two mugs, the cream and sugar and the whole pot of coffee.

When she poured the coffee, he took it immediately and nearly downed the full mug, so she topped it off again before pouring her own.

“That was the first honest-to-goodness cattle drive I’ve ever been on,” she said.

It was a good place to start a conversation. If he didn’t want to talk, he could let it stand.

Logan tried to smile, but the effort made him look even more tired.

Poor guy apparently wasn’t sleeping well.

“You own this place, so I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I burned every dinner for the first three days,” she said. “I’m not used to Dutch oven cooking.”

He laughed, and at least a little light came into his eyes before flickering out.

Marlee chuckled. She could hardly believe she was confessing her shortcomings to the man who would decide whether she would be hired for the job.

But the cattle drive had changed her. Jett’s gentle way with horses reflected his light touch with the crew.

Including her.

His easy-going attitude about her burning the food had dissolved her pride.

In fact, everyone had been good-natured, refusing to tease or make any comments. Instead, they’d given her time to figure it out.

“I finally got the hang of it,” she said. “After Jett had mercy on me and showed me how to use Dutch ovens.”

“I hear Cassie brought you here for a working interview of sorts. You work a while and then she’d decide whether to keep you on?”

“Yeah.” Marlee looked down into her coffee.

“How long?”

“It was supposed to be a two week trial,” she said.

“You should have said something.”

She shrugged. “Decisions about my future didn’t seem very important when….”

…when they’d just buried Cassie and Silas.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, his voice roughened with emotion.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “Coffee’s a great kindness when sleep is hard to come by.”

He jammed his hat on and strode toward the door.

Pausing, he turned to look at her.

“You deserve a decision,” he said. “I’ll let Jett know. It’ll be his call.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The timer buzzed, and Marlee swallowed a few butterflies as she peeked into the oven.

The bubbling cobbler teased her taste buds.

Perfection.

Carefully, Marlee slid it out of the oven. Crisp golden edges oozed with caramelized peachy goodness, and across the middle of the cobbler, the pillowy cloud of dough boasted a buttery-sweet golden shell.

During her last year in culinary school, Marlee had perfected her peach cobbler recipe. The secret ingredient she’d used made it knock-down drag-out good, even by southern cobbler standards. It had won several awards in contests, and it was the only dish she’d made in culinary school that had been a clear home run. The only one she’d been truly proud of.

Marlee filled a tray with servings of the hot cobbler, and then scooped out some of her own homemade vanilla-bean ice cream for each dish.

She had to work hard to keep her feet from dancing in glee as she carried the tray to the cafeteria where the cowboys waited patiently for their dessert.

She served Jett first.

“Since you’ve got a tough decision to make about hiring me, I thought I’d sweeten you up with my famous signature dish.” She laughed as she set his plate down. “It’s won awards. I call it ‘Mad Marlee’s Peach Cobbler.’ It will prove why I’m the only chef for the job.”

Jett nodded, his face serious.

“Mad Marlee,” Buck chuckled. “That’s about right.”

“I bet them rustlers thought you were loony as a pole cat, comin’ straight at them with those kitchen knives.” Ty waggled his eyebrows at her.

But Jett didn’t crack a smile. He looked down at his plate and cleared his throat.

Crazy Hoss had dropped by for a visit with Fern and Gene Aimstock because Annie had kicked them out of the Moose Dimple Café. It was the first Monday of the month, which meant Annie and Meg were doing a deep clean of the café.

Marlee served them, too, hands electric with nerves. She shot another look at Jett’s serious face.

Let someone else praise you, and not your own mouth; an outsider and not your own lips.

Marlee pressed her lips together as one of the verses she’d read that morning surfaced above her nerves. Maybe mentioning her awards was a little overkill.

Crazy Hoss took a bite, and then closed his eyes and groaned.

Fern took one look at him, and shoveled three quick spoonfuls into her mouth.

“Spongey and crisp at the same time,” Ty said around a mouthful of cobbler.

“Chewy, peachy, sticky goodness is what it is,” Fern said before stuffing her mouth again.

Marlee sat down with a mug of coffee, a smile warming her face.

She might not be a five-star chef yet, but she knew how to put out good food. The look of joy on someone’s face when they ate her food always filled her with little prickles of pleasure. This is what she’d come here to do: prove once and for all that Marlee Donovan was no failure.

“Stick-in-your-teeth caramely goodness is what it is,” Gene said.

Marlee sighed with content. That was high praise indeed, coming from Gene Aimstock, who rarely spoke. Normally, his wife did all the talking and the poor man couldn’t squeeze in a single word.

But today, Fern’s mouth was crammed with cobbler.

“Gooey snuggled under a blanket of…I ain’t even got the words for it,” Crazy Hoss said.

“Maybe you are a little touched in the head,” Fern said to Marlee. “If you can cook like this, you must be mad to come out here and cook for a bunch of cowpokes. Girl, you should be workin’ in a five-star restaurant.”

“My mouth can’t get enough,” Ty said.

“You done spoilt my taste buds, that’s what you done.” Crazy Hoss stared down at his empty plate. Then he picked up his spoon and licked it clean.

Marlee glowed and took a sip of her hot coffee. She glanced at Jett, and her glow faded.

The man sat there like he was playing a poker game, instead of enjoying the best dessert of his life.

Even Crazy Hoss noticed.

“Whattsa matter, boss?” Crazy Hoss asked. “Don’t like peaches?””

Marlee’s hands trembled. She nearly sloshed her coffee, so she set her mug down. Dread squelched elation. “You’re not giving me the job.”

Jett looked at her, his expression pained. “Let’s talk about this later.”

She folded her arms. “Now is a good time for me. And you have nothing to do right now but eat peaches, so spit it out, cowboy.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he poked at the cobbler.

Marlee sniffed and tossed her curls back. He shouldn’t have a single bit of cobbler left on his plate. It was that good. Everybody had said so.

“You might as well say it.” Crazy Hoss sighed. “The lady asked you fair and square.”

Jett cleared his throat. “I can’t hire you, Marlee.”

“Yes.” She glared at him. “You can. You just won’t.”

He winced. “I can’t. You have no trail-ride experience except for the last one. We have several cattle drives a year. With the ranch understaffed, we’re going to need a chef who can also work as a good cowhand.”

“I can learn. And I wasn’t doing too badly by the time this last drive was over.”

Jett tensed. His lips flattened into a thin line. “Too dangerous.”

“But—”

“Even for experienced hands, it’s dangerous. Look what happened last time we went up.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice raising. Her throat burned. “That was great experience. I was the one who saved your hide, if I remember right.”

He shook his head. “I know, but I have to make the right decision for the Paycoach family. I can’t give you the job just because you’re crazy enough to charge rustlers in the dark. You also need experience.”

“I’m experienced. I’ve been on a cattle drive already.”

“Your safety is my responsibility—I can’t feel good about…you might get hurt.”

Marlee blinked back tears, spine buzzing with anger. “I should have known you’d be too stubborn to change your opinion of me. All you saw that first day was a city girl who needed to toughen up in the saddle. Well, I did that, but I’m still not good enough for you.”

She shoved away from the table and marched toward the kitchen.

The scuffle and stomp of boots behind her said he’d followed her, but she ignored him, heading for the big double doors.

He grabbed her elbow and turned her toward him before she got there. “It’s okay. I’ve thought this through. You can get a job at the Rockspur outfit. They’ll probably be hiring a cook soon, and the chef there won’t do cattle drives.”

Marlee stared. The man had a lot of nerve to plan her future. A lot of nerve to decide what Marlee Donovan was and was not capable of.

“You sure they’re hiring, boss?” Crazy Hoss hollered from the other end of the mess hall.

Jett’s face reddened. “It’s easy enough to double check,” he mumbled.

Marlee gasped.

“You’ll be safer there, Marlee.” He stepped closer, his voice soft and pleading.

She twisted away from him and backed up a step. “You don’t get it, Jett Maddox.” Biting her lip to hold back a sob, she fled to the kitchen before he could see her hot tears.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Marlee stared at Jett’s office door and tightened her grip around the strap of her knife case.

The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in Him; though he may stumble he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with His hand.

Failing her working interview at the Paycoach ranch was a big stumble, all right.

Lord, I’ve failed completely. Please hold me up.

Marlee hitched up her knife roll, picked up her suitcases and then pushed into Jett’s office.

He cleared his throat and stood up when he saw her.

She set her suitcases down.

“Marlee,” he said. His face tightened.

The smile she gave him nearly cracked. Tension spread all the way along her jaw and through her neck and shoulders.

“I wrote a letter of recommendation.” He handed her an envelope, and Marlee stared down at it.

She didn’t need a letter of recommendation. She needed a job.

She needed to not have to go home and tell Dad that he was right about her being a failure.