Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (32 page)

Besides, she didn’t want to give Joe any reason to cancel his contracts with the Barbecue King. Her loyalties weren’t divided. They were firmly on Harris’s side.

Still, he’d managed to get the meat prepped for the contest. They’d have to get it on the fire by midnight so that it would be ready for the judges at eleven the next morning. According to Andy, they could expect a lot of drinking and carousing at the fairgrounds as all the competitors sat around and watched their respective smokers overnight.

That was fine with Darcy. She could definitely do with some drinking and carousing about now.

Tom Ames and the Faro were supplying them with beer. Joe and Clemencia had promised snacks. Knowing how much Joe would have loved to have been the one cooking on that fire, she figured the snacks would be pretty spectacular just so he could make his point.

Darcy left the Rose’s kitchen a little after two in the afternoon, having gotten the salad set-ups and prep work done for the evening meal. She made a quick stop at HEB, then headed for Chico’s where Harris was doing his own prep. The kitchen in the empty side of the duplex wasn’t as prime as the kitchen at his place had been, but it worked.

She walked into the duplex, dropping her shopping bags on the table. Harris glanced up from the brisket he was rubbing and grinned.

Her knees felt weak all of a sudden.
That’s not good.
She decided to ignore it. Just because he’d held on to her like she was the only thing in his life last night, that didn’t mean he actually felt that way. Or that he should.

Neither of them had talked about what was happening between them. After all, she had a future somewhere else. She was going to be
chef de cuisine
in the big time, assuming she ever got around to looking for another job. Besides, for all she knew, nothing was happening.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

All right,
something
was happening. Good sex for one thing. Great sex, if she was being honest. But further than that she wasn’t willing to go. They were attracted to each other. They were good together. They weren’t in love or anything.

Or anything.

Darcy closed her eyes for a moment. She
so
didn’t have time for this. These things always ended eventually. Maybe she should start thinking about ending it herself so she wasn’t the one left with the broken heart. After all, she had to move on, didn’t she?

Didn’t she?

“Hey,” Harris said. “Just in time. Chico’s headed over to Andy’s place to pick her up. Then we can head out to the fairgrounds and get checked in. I got the smokers ready to go this afternoon.”

“I need to get some coleslaw going before we leave,” she said quickly. She dumped four heads of cabbage into the sink and began running cold water.

“No hurry. We don’t have to start serving until tomorrow.”

She kept her concentration on her cabbage. Somehow she had the feeling that if she looked at him, he’d see how she felt about him. And she didn’t want that. She really didn’t want that.
Too many complications.
She really needed to think about ending things before she got hurt, before she got distracted. Before she forgot just what her goal was. “Just need to get this chopped up for now. I don’t supposed there’s a processor around here?”

“Nope.” Harris went back to his brisket.

“Did you sell from the truck today?” She heard him moving around behind her, but was careful not to look.
Keep it casual.

“Yeah. I had a brisket and some chicken, and I sold some of Chico’s pulled pork. He’s got enough of that stuff to keep me supplied for life.”

“It’s good, though.” She took a breath and then turned around, keeping her expression carefully bland.

“It’s superlative. Particularly when you consider he’s not a pro.” Harris frowned slightly. “What’s up, Darcy?”

She licked her lips. There was nothing she could tell him, really. Not without telling him a lot more than she wanted to. “I’m just tired. It’s been quite a week.”

His lips inched up in a dry smile. “It has at that.” He started to turn back to the meat again.

“What happens after the cook-off?” she blurted.
What the hell is the matter with you?
That was the last thing she should be asking him, no matter how much she wanted to hear the answer.

He turned back to look at her, his grin fading. “I’m not sure. Maybe I can get things back to the way things were before the flood. Maybe not. That prize money from the cook-off would be good.”

“How much is it?”

He shrugged. “Five hundred. Not a whole lot, but anything would help.”

“How much do you need?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know yet. The insurance adjustor couldn’t give me a figure, but it won’t be much. I’ll have to replace everything in the kitchen and get it cleaned up. And the trailer may not be livable.”

What about us?
Which of course she couldn’t say. Or wouldn’t. Because they both had stuff to do. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He reached out, running his fingers along the side of her cheek, his fingertips light as butterfly wings.

“You could…”
Oh god.
She paused. What was she doing, anyway?
Just keep quiet.

“I could…” His lips moved up in a faint grin.

“You could stay with me. If the trailer can’t be fixed. I mean, I’ve got room. Maybe my kitchen would work.”
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
She hadn’t meant to say that. And now that she had, she wished she could take it back. It was way too close to a commitment.
So much for breaking things off.

He nodded slowly. “Thanks. I may take you up on that.”

When pigs fly.
She could supply the rest of it. Her chest felt tight again. She’d put herself out there and of course she’d gotten stomped on. What did she expect him to say, anyway? They weren’t in love or anything. She turned back to the sink abruptly, grabbing her chef’s knife as she did.

Behind her, she heard Harris clear his throat, but she didn’t turn around. A person could only take so much rejection in one day.

Chico fingered the small box in his jeans pocket. His mother had insisted that he take it with him, and it was probably just as well that he had. He wouldn’t have time to look for anything for at least a week, and even then he wasn’t sure he’d know what to pick. This was so far outside his comfort zone that he shuddered whenever he thought about it.

But Eddie Wells’ suspicions had rankled last night, even though they hadn’t been exactly unexpected. He thought Andy was marrying down. Chico wanted something that would lay that shit to rest.

His jaw still tensed whenever he thought about marrying Andy, but it wasn’t from doubt. He had no doubts at all. But his mom would invite everybody in the family. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to endure that. The idea of standing up in a suit—his mother would demand a suit—in front of all his relatives gave him hives, or close to it. He’d been thinking seriously of just having the County Clerk marry them like Andy had suggested, then dropping the news in his mom’s lap as a done deal.

The worst she could do would be to yell at him, and she already did that regularly. Of course it would also hurt her feelings, and he was less sure he could deal with that. He sighed. This whole getting married thing was supposed to be simple.

He climbed the steps to Andy’s front door, opening it without bothering to knock. He knew she was home. “Andy?” he called.

“I’ll be right out.” Her voice echoed from the rear of the house. The bedroom. Probably changing clothes. He thought about going back there, maybe interrupting the clothes changing. But he wanted to do this right. That probably meant with all their clothes on and all their wits about them.

He sank down on her couch and tried to figure out what to do with the box. He could put it on the coffee table so that she saw it when she walked in. Or he could leave it in his pocket and hope he wouldn’t look as clumsy as he suspected he would when he tried to get it out.

Someone rapped hard on the front door, and he frowned. Visitors right now would be a pain in the ass since they might well prevent him from having the necessary conversation with Andy. Maybe they could just pretend not to be home.

The rapping came again, and Andy’s voice sounded from the bedroom. “Could you get that? I’ll be there in a minute.”

He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door, assuming a suitably intimidating expression. Unless it was somebody from TCEQ with a water emergency, he intended to send them on their way. Fast.

He pulled the door open and frowned harder. The man on the other side looked like he needed to be frowned at. He was maybe five feet ten or so, and Chico put his weight at somewhere around two hundred pounds. Some of it was muscle, judging from the size of his biceps, but a lot of it wasn’t. His dark hair was cut short around his skull, and he wore sunglasses with a black baseball cap. His black T-shirt pulled tight across his chest, half distorting the white letters that spelled out
Burke’s Barbecue Bandits.

Even before he read the T-shirt Chico had already figured out who the man was. He pulled himself up to his full height, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah?”

Burke wasn’t intimidated, Chico had to give him that. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Andy?”

“She’s changing her clothes. What do you want?”

“To see Andy,” he barked. Burke looked like he was ready to push his way in. Chico was willing to let him try it. It would be a very bad idea, but Chico assumed he knew that already. He didn’t look like a stupid man. Just an asshole.

“Lew?” Andy sounded slightly annoyed as she walked into the room behind them. “What are you doing here?”

She stepped up beside Chico, and he moved aside reluctantly, letting Burke past.

“I’m here to take you to dinner,” Burke said in a flat voice. “Like I told you.”

Andy grimaced. “And I told you I was busy, Lew. I’m not going out with you. You’ve wasted a trip.”

Burke glanced at Chico again. “Who’s this?”

“Chico Burnside.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you are?”

Burke’s face flushed dull pink.

“This is my ex-husband, Lew Burke,” Andy said hurriedly. “Lew, I don’t have time to talk to you right now. We’re on our way out.”

Chico folded his arms again, watching.

A muscle in Burke’s jaw flexed hard. “What’s going on here?” he snapped. “Who’s he?”

“What makes you think you have a right to ask questions here?” Andy sounded like she was talking through clenched teeth.

“I still…”

Screw it.
“Like I said, my name’s Chico Burnside, and Andy’s my fiancée.” He put a little emphasis on the
my.
Live with it, asshole.

Burke’s jaw dropped. He turned toward Andy. “You’re getting married?”

Andy nodded. “I am.”

“To him?” Burke looked at him incredulously. “Good Lord, Andy, what’s the matter with you?”

Chico dropped his hands to his sides, flexing his fingers. He longed to plant a fist in Burke’s face, but he had enough self-discipline not to. On the other hand, Burke was definitely nudging him in that direction.

“How dare you!” Andy’s voice was lethal.

Chico turned away from Burke for a moment to look at her. Her face was pale. Her hands were drawn into fists at her sides. Judging by the skills in reading expressions he’d developed in his years as a bouncer, he figured she was moments away from throwing a punch.

She stepped forward until she was inches away from her ex-husband. “How dare you say anything about Chico—or imply anything about him? You pompous ass! You don’t know anything about him, and you never knew anything about me. ” She drew a deep breath. “Now get out of my grandmother’s house. You don’t belong here. Granny Deb couldn’t stand you. And I don’t want to see or hear any more.”

Burke looked as if somebody had given him a quick jab to the solar plexus. His face flushed pink again, while his jaw flexed. Chico narrowed his eyes. Maybe he’d get a chance to punch the asshole after all.

Then Burke pivoted on his heel, stomping down the steps and across the yard to a Suburban with
Burke’s Barbecue Bandits
painted across the door. He didn’t look back.

Andy still stood in the doorway, hands at her sides, fingers trembling slightly. After a moment, she sighed. “I’m sorry. He just makes me so mad.”

Chico put a hand on her shoulder, turning her slowly as he closed the door. “What are you sorry about?”

“That I lost my temper. I just…ranted.”

“You’re not supposed to lose your temper?” He shook his head. “I didn’t know about that rule.”

“I hate it when I do.” She leaned forward, resting her cheek against his chest. He put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. “It’s so classless.”

“That,” he said, “is ridiculous. Everybody’s got the right to tell off the assholes in your life without losing any class. Hell, I think it’s in the Constitution.”

Andy snickered, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re right. I think it’s part of the Bill of Rights.”

He put his hand on her back, urging her gently into the living room.