Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (17 page)

“What’s the verdict?”

Andy glanced up at the man standing at the end of their table. The Barbecue King. She’d seen him in town before, but she’d never really gotten the whole impact until now. He was a few inches shorter than Chico, a few pounds lighter, not as much muscle. But oh Lordy, he was definitely hot.

Of course, so was Chico. In an entirely different way that still managed to get her heart pounding when she looked at him. Having both of them within touching distance was quite an experience.

Beside her Chico shrugged. “Your stuff is good. The lady here calls it
Platonic
, in fact.” He gave her a quick grin.

The King looked slightly confused, but then he shook it off. “Okay, that’s good to hear I guess.”

“What about you?” Chico narrowed his eyes slightly.

The King blew out a breath. “I’d say your pork is pretty Platonic too, assuming that means what I think it means, which it probably doesn’t. Anyway, it’s superlative.”

Chico’s eyes stayed narrow. “Are you in?”

He nodded slowly. “I’m in. What do we do now?”

“Now we get the paperwork done and figure out what categories we’re going to enter.”

The King sat down opposite them at the table. “Okay. That sounds doable.”

He turned toward Andy. “You know of anything else we need to do?”

She frowned slightly. “Oh, well…” She felt a quick pinch of uneasiness. Across the yard, Lara Ziegler was whispering to a woman Andy didn’t know. Both of them looked toward her, grinning.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the King said smoothly, extending his hand. “I’m King.”

“Andy Wells.” She shook his hand briefly. “You make a great brisket.”

“Platonic, so I hear.” He gave her a grin that made her want to move a little closer to Chico.

“Andy did the
borracho
beans,” Chico broke in.

The King’s forehead furrowed. “Well, you beat my pintos all to hell. I’ve still got half a crock left and people are scraping the bottom of your casserole. Very tasty.”

“Thanks.”

“Andy’s got some experience in this stuff—she’s been around other contests.”

The King’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Great. Maybe you can keep us from going wrong.”

Across the yard a couple leaned together, whispering as they looked in Chico’s direction. Andy bit her lip again. “I’ll be glad to help if I can,” she said, ducking her head.

She was aware suddenly of Chico’s gaze, but she managed not to look at him. She really didn’t want to cause any more talk than they already had.

“Great,” the King repeated. “You try the slaw? Darcy made it.”

Thank god for changes of subject.
“I did. Very good. Was that apple she used?”

“Apple. Jesus.” The King shook his head. “I was trying to figure out what the hell it was.”

Andy nodded. “I think she used cider vinegar too. Gave it a nice kind of overall effect.”

“Tasted good to me.” Chico narrowed his eyes. “Here she comes.”

Andy watched a tall, slender woman walk across the yard. Her hair was an amazing shade of ice blond, gelled into spikes. The tips were bright blue. All in all, she was almost as striking as the King, even in jeans and a T-shirt. Of course, the tattoo of a beef diagram on her arm helped. So did the parade of earrings she had through both earlobes. She probably didn’t give a rat’s ass if anybody stared.

“Hey,” she said, glancing around the table. “I’m Darcy.”

Chico grinned. “I remember.” He nodded toward Andy. “That’s Andy.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She turned toward the King. “What’s the verdict? Are you a go?”

He nodded. “Looks like it.”

She bent her elbow, drawing her hand down in a triumphant fist pump. “Yes! So are you looking for other people to be on this team?”

Andy’s throat tightened quickly, her hands fisting in her lap. Would Chico want her to join? If they were getting this much attention just by having dinner together, how much more would there be if she was on his barbecue team? And how many more staring people could she put up with?

Chico frowned. “Maybe. What’s your specialty? You cook at the Rose, right?”

“Darcy’s my apprentice,” the King said easily. “She’s picking up barbecue smarts by following me around.”

Darcy gave him a dry smile. “And some day the apprentice shall be the master.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, apprentice.”

“We could use a couple more people,” Chico said slowly, “just to keep track of stuff and help out when we start cooking and serving.”

Andy took a careful breath, forcing her hands to unfist in her lap. She focused on Darcy’s earlobe with its wide variety of earrings.
You can always say no.

“Okay, I’ll volunteer.” Darcy grinned at him, blue eyes flashing.

The King grinned back. “We accept. Or anyway, it’s okay with me. Okay with you?” He raised an eyebrow at Chico.

He shrugged. Andy had the feeling he was looking at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to glance his way to find out.

“Sure,” Chico said. “Another experienced cook can’t hurt.”

The King pushed himself to his feet. “All right then. It’s on. Looks like people are starting to take off now. That’s my cue to load stuff back in my truck.” He gave Darcy a quick grin. “Come on, apprentice. You never know what you might learn.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, but followed him back across the yard with a quick goodbye wave in their direction.

Andy sat very still, shoulders stiff. Her grandmother would tell her to stop being such a baby. So a few people stared and snickered, so what? Hadn’t she ever been stared at before?

Actually, of course, she hadn’t been. She wasn’t the type of person who drew that kind of attention, or any kind of attention as far as that went.

Chico was still watching her carefully, his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he sighed. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She licked her lips, wondering how to explain without sounding like she was criticizing him. It wasn’t his fault everybody was watching them. “Maybe it’s time for me to head on home too.”

His frown deepened. “Can you wait a few minutes while I put stuff away?”

“I could just walk,” she said quickly. “It’s not that dark yet. You’ve got stuff to do here.”

He shook his head slowly. “Wait a few minutes. I’ll drive you.”

She opened her mouth to object, then closed it again. Easier to just go with it. “Okay.”

It took him ten minutes to clean up the serving area. The King had already taken away most of the pans. Chico picked up her casserole dish in his massive hands, nodding toward the gate. “We can head out here. It’s easier to just go through the alley.”

She thought of offering to walk home again, but decided against it. He was being kind, and it wasn’t his fault she was having a meltdown. Chances were good he didn’t even realize she was, now that she thought about it. Her meltdowns tended to be quiet, like everything else about her. Nobody noticed.

She glanced back at the crowd again and saw three or four heads quickly turn away. Lara Ziegler didn’t bother. She stared at them with her bright predator’s eyes.

Andy gritted her teeth and followed Chico through the gate.

She settled into the front seat of his truck, arranging the casserole dish next to her feet so that she wouldn’t have to look at him. She had an odd feeling she might cry if she did, and that was the very last thing she wanted to do tonight.
It’s not his fault. Remember that.

If he noticed that she was avoiding him, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he drove through the quiet streets to her house—her grandmother’s house—pulling into the driveway and then turning off the ignition.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “There’s nobody here now but you and me. Nobody’s watching you. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate being stared at.” She blew out a long breath. “I’m not used to it.”

“Yeah?” He frowned. “It was a little worse today than I anticipated, I’ll admit.”

She sighed again. Her day for sighing, apparently. “Nobody looks at me usually. I mean I just do my job and that’s it. I’m used to fading into the woodwork.”

He blinked. “You don’t strike me as the fade-into-the-woodwork type.”

“Sure I do. I mean, I’m just sort of average.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, ordering herself not to tear up. “That sounds like I’m fishing for a compliment, but I’m not. I don’t know what I mean exactly.”

“I think maybe I do,” he said slowly. “You’re not used to having people pay so much attention to you, not like they do when you’re out with me. People don’t stare at you usually. And they don’t talk about you.”

She closed her eyes, then nodded.

“I guess it does take some getting used to. I’ve been this big for most of my life, so I’m sort of accustomed to it.”

She shook her head. “I’m being an idiot and I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “You’re being a normal person in an abnormal situation. For what it’s worth, I think most people will settle down once they get used to seeing us together.” He turned toward her in the gathering twilight. “That assumes we go on being seen together, I guess. Would you rather toss it in?”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t really thought about the possibility of not seeing him again. She really didn’t like thinking of it now. “No. I mean, that is, if you don’t want to… But I really…”

She closed her eyes, trying to get herself to stop babbling as she listened to the sound of the mourning doves in the pecan tree around them. “I should go in,” she said finally.

“Can I see you again?” His voice rumbled deep beside her.

“If you want to.” She sighed. “That wasn’t what I meant to say. Yes, I’d really like to see you again. I’m sorry I messed this up.”

He reached across the seat, running his fingers along her cheek. “You didn’t mess anything up. I had a good time—I like being with you.”

She drew in a shaky breath, then blew it out. “Good. I’m glad. And I had a really good time tonight, all things considered.”

She wrapped her hand around his, turning to look at him. “I like being with you too.”

He leaned toward her slowly, giving her time to pull back. Which she didn’t want to do. Not even slightly.

She tasted the slight flavor of salt and beer on his lips, smelled the wood smoke in his hair. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing closer, letting the kiss deepen as her skin warmed beneath his hands.

Her body seemed to soften, heat sliding through her veins, her muscles, her bones. Another moment and she’d be a puddle of warmth on the seat. She snuggled closer to his chest, feeling the odd reassurance of his arms tightening around her.

He lifted her gently, pulling her closer, one hand stroking the length of her side as he gazed down at her. “Tonight’s not right for doing this. I could come by tomorrow,” he said softly. “After work.”

She closed her eyes.
Damn, damn, damn.
“I have to go to Austin tomorrow. I won’t be home again until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday, then.”

She nodded. “Tuesday.” She managed to take another breath. “I should probably go in now.”

He ran his fingers across her cheek again, lightly. “If you want to.”

“I’m not sure I do, but I should.”

He chuckled, then let his smile fade. “I won’t hurt you, Andy. Not knowingly anyway.”

She nodded. “I believe you.”

“Good.” He turned to open the truck door. “And I’m pretty sure people will stop talking about us in a couple of days.”

She blew out a breath. “Maybe so.”

She watched him walk around the truck to open her door, wishing to god she didn’t have to work out of the Austin office tomorrow.

Chapter Twelve

Harris loaded the last three trays into the back of the truck. He’d wash up once he got home. His kitchen had a heavy-duty dishwasher that handled pots and pans just fine. He cast a last, regretful glance at his bean pot. He still had a couple of pints of beans, but he’d probably have to pitch them. They’d sat around too long to be good.

Andy Wells knew how to make a mean pot of beans, that was for sure. Maybe he could get her to share that recipe. Although none of his customers at the truck had ever complained up to now.

“Harris?”

He stood still, staring into the truck’s interior.
Not Docia.
He would have recognized her voice, and besides she hadn’t been at the barbecue—he’d checked.

“It is you, isn’t it?”

He turned slowly. Deirdre Ames was watching him from the shadows next to the truck.

“Hey, Deirdre.”

“I didn’t recognize you before this when I saw you selling your barbecue from your truck. I guess I wasn’t close enough to really see your face. I’m sorry I didn’t say hi before.”

He took a careful breath, pushing his hat back farther. Why the hell hadn’t he remembered Deirdre was Docia’s cousin? “No problem.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Her perfect brow furrowed slightly. “I thought you were still in Houston.”