The Cowboy Rescues a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek) (10 page)

“Not really.” To Fila’s surprise the young woman began to cry.

Comforting other people wasn’t Fila’s strong point—unless they were babies. There had been little tenderness between her and the other women of her village. Most of them couldn’t afford to take the risk of being seen to favor her. She was too different—to apt to make the kind of mistake that brought about the wrath of the Taliban men who called the shots. So she never knew quite what to do when a situation like this presented itself, and now she hovered over Mia for a few moments before tentatively placing a hand on her arm. “What’s the matter?”

“Everything! Luke. He’s such an idiot!”

Fila had noticed a tension between Luke and Mia for weeks. Like Fila, Mia had moved onto the Double-Bar-K just before the beginning of December and though she’d first lived with Ned, that hadn’t worked out and she’d eventually switched places with Fila to move in with Luke. Fila had expected a romance to blossom between the two almost instantly, judging by the way Luke’s gaze never swerved from Mia whenever they were together.

But that hadn’t happened, and she wasn’t sure what the nature of the relationship between the two was. Sometimes they chatted and laughed and shot glances at each other so loaded with intent and desire Fila felt uncomfortable in their presence. Other times they moved stiffly around each other as if they had never even met. Fila couldn’t fathom what was going on.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing! He’s done nothing and it’s almost too late!”

“Too late for what?”

Mia sobbed louder. “I’ve made such a stupid mistake. Such a stupid, stupid mistake. I don’t know what to do! I’m going to lose him!”

“Lose Luke?” How could she lose a man who followed her around like a puppy on a string most of the time? “You’re wrong. Luke worships you.”

Mia dropped her hands and stared at Fila. “Now, maybe. He won’t next month.”

Fila chuckled despite her concern. “What do you plan to do next month? Set his cabin on fire?”

“It’s not what I plan to do. It’s what I’ve already done.” Mia wiped her eyes. Fila didn’t like the hopelessness in her tone. “Can you keep a secret?”

Fila nodded. She was good at that.

“I’m pregnant. And I’ve never been with Luke.”

Understanding flooded Fila, along with a wash of fear that had her gripping the table for support. An unwed mother. What would happen? What would they do to her? Would they—

No. She wasn’t in Afghanistan.

“Fila?” The concern was all too evident in Mia’s voice.

Fila struggled to get a hold of herself, taking calming breaths, holding the table tight until her knuckles went white. “Sorry,” she gasped out. “It’ll pass.”

Mia bit her lip, studying her. “What would they have done to me where you were? Would they have killed me?”

Fila shut her eyes. Possibly.

A tear slid down Mia’s face. “Sometimes I think everyone would be better off if I was dead.”

Fila was on her knees in an instant, her arms around Mia—all her own fears forgotten. “No! Never say that. You are a mother now. Soon you will hold your baby in your arms.”

“I know,” Mia wailed. “And I can’t wait. I want to see my baby so badly, but don’t you see—the minute Luke finds out about it, he’s going to hate me.”

Fila pulled back. Thought that through. Luke was proud—the proudest of the Mathesons, and that was saying a lot. You could tease Jake and Rob. Even Ned had a sense of humor, buried as it was under his gruff exterior. Luke saw things in black and white, right or wrong. He reminded her of the Taliban men that way. He honestly cared for Mia—anyone could see that—but what would he do if he knew she carried another man’s child?

He would leave her. It was that simple.

Should she lie to Mia? Pretend it wasn’t so? That would comfort her more than the truth. But one look at Mia’s face told her it was too late for lies.

“I’m sorry,” Fila said.

“It’s hopeless, isn’t it?” Tears streaked down Mia’s cheeks. “I keep trying to figure out what to do. I hoped he’d fall so in love with me that it wouldn’t matter. But it does. It will. I have to give him up.”

“What will you do?”

“Work for you, I hope. Get an apartment. Do my best for my child. I got myself into this—it’s up to me to figure a way through. I won’t be the first single mother.” But her sigh told Fila that being a single mother was the last thing Mia wanted to be.

“I will help you all I can. I love babies.”

“What will I do after it’s born, though? How do I pay for child care while I work and still have enough to live on?”

“Child care?” Fila reared back, affronted at the thought. “Why would you pay for child care?”

“I can’t keep a baby in the restaurant.”

Fila rolled her eyes. Silly Americans. “Why not?”

‡
Chapter 13

“I
t’s so nice
of you to invite me to your family dinner,” Camila exclaimed as Ned helped her off with her coat. They stood in the foyer of his parents’ house on Sunday evening while the rest of the family took their places at the large dining room table.

“Fila will be glad you did,” he said. “I’ve got to warn you, though. My family can be a bit… overwhelming.”

“I have five brothers and two sisters. Don’t tell me about overwhelming.”

Ned led the way into the dining room where the table was set for eleven. Holt already sat in his seat at one end of the table. To his right sat Jake, Hannah, Luke and Mia. To his left, Rob and Morgan were in their chairs. Fila was helping his mother in the kitchen.

“Take your pick. My Mom usually takes the end.” Ned indicated the remaining empty chairs and waited until Camila selected the middle one. He helped push her in and took the seat between her and Morgan.

“Welcome to our home,” Holt said to Camila. Ned exchanged a look with Jake, who raised an eyebrow. Ned couldn’t convey in a glance the reason for Holt’s sudden burst of manners, but he knew the cause well enough. His father was going to use Camila to force Fila out of the picture if he didn’t watch out.

“Thank you.” Camila beamed at him.

“Hope you’re hungry.” Lisa walked into the room bearing a huge platter of ham. Fila followed with a basket of biscuits in one hand and a bowl of green beans in the other. She noticed her empty seat down at the far end of the row and made a face. Ned frowned. There wasn’t much he could do about the seating arrangement now. He would have thought she’d be happy to sit next to Camila, though.

For a few minutes there was a flurry of dishes coming in from the kitchen and the passing of food around the table. When Fila finally took her place she unfolded her napkin, draped it across her lap and sat in silence, only moving to help herself to small portions of the food.

Ned sighed. She must still feel uncomfortable among all of the people here, and why wouldn’t she when his father took every chance to hint that she should leave. He was determined that would change—and soon.

“Camila, tell us about yourself. What brings you to Chance Creek?” Holt cut into his slice of ham.

“I’m opening a restaurant right next door to—”

Ned coughed and cut across her words. “It’s on First Street. Around the corner from DelMonaco’s.” He turned to Camila, caught her eye and shook his head slightly, hoping she’d understand not to bring up Fila’s restaurant. So far no one had mentioned it to Holt and he meant to keep it that way until it was a done deal. Holt would have a field day if he knew Ned had financed the place.

“What kind of food? I hope not more of that foreign stuff like that one makes.” Holt jabbed a finger at Fila.

“Holt!” Lisa turned to Camila, her usually kind face pinched in vexation. “Excuse him, please. His mother dropped him on his head several times when he was a baby. Unfortunately she didn’t tell me about it until after we were married.”

Holt stabbed a forkful of ham and chewed it vigorously.

“Well,” Camila began uncertainly. “It’s a Mexican food restaurant. Tacos, burritos—that kind of thing?” The normally outspoken young woman seemed cowed for the first time since Ned had met her. Holt had that effect on people, though.

“I love Mexican food—it’s practically American, isn’t it?” Holt stabbed another bite. All around the table, his children reared back in surprise.

“Since when do you love Mexican food?” Luke asked loudly. Mia nudged him. “What?”

“Since forever.” Holt fixed him with a glare.

“I wish you would tell Mom. I wouldn’t mind some tacos now and then.”

“We’ll have tacos next Sunday, then,” Lisa said easily, but she glanced at Ned and rolled her eyes. Ned knew why—if she’d ever served tacos before, there would have been hell to pay about that
south of the border
food.

“Oh—I’ll bring tacos if you like!” Camila perked up, then blushed. “I mean—I didn’t mean to invite myself over again. Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Holt said magnanimously. “Come on over next week, too. Bring your tacos. It’ll be a treat.”

Lisa dropped her utensils and coughed so hard into her napkin that everyone looked her way. “That’s a terrific idea,” she choked out. She dabbed at her face, recovered her composure and smiled wickedly. “I’ll make a big old salad to go with them.” Ned laughed out loud. Holt hated salad almost as much as he hated Mexican food.

“I’ll bring that dessert I make,” Morgan put in smoothly. “The one with all the bananas.”

Mia spit out the sip of milk she’d just taken and coughed until Luke pounded her on the back. “Sorry.” She mopped herself up with her napkin. “Breathed in the wrong way.”

Ned bit back the urge to laugh again. He’d forgotten how much his father hated Morgan’s banana dessert. And let her know in no uncertain terms the one time she’d served it to him.

Holt’s expression was getting grimmer and grimmer. From the way Camila was sneaking looks his way he figured she knew something was up, but wasn’t sure what it was.

“I’ll bring Nawabi Kandahari Gosht,” Fila announced loudly and clearly, her voice slipping into an accent in a way he hadn’t heard since her first days in town. It took him a moment to realize she’d gotten all the jokes and was adding her own jab at the old man.

“That all sounds lovely,” Lisa said, smoothly preventing an outburst from Holt. “But today I hope you’ll make do with my plain American fare. When did you arrive in Chance Creek, Camila?”

“Last month. I hope to open my restaurant near the first of February.”

“Do you have family in town?”

“No.” Camila’s good humor slipped again. “It’s just me. I’m staying out at the Flying W. They had a private room to rent. I don’t see the owners much though. They always seem to be busy.”

“The Turners? They’re recovering from a bad year, I’ve heard. That must be lonely for you.” Lisa’s voice was kind.

“It is,” Camila said softly. “So I’m doing my best to meet people. I hope that once I open my restaurant I’ll feel like part of the community.”

“That can take time,” Morgan said, “but it does happen. I moved here from Canada last fall and now it really does feel like home.”

“Thank you,” Camila said. “Thank all of you for including me today. It means a lot to me.”

“You’ll always be welcome here.” Holt’s tone made it clear not everyone was.

Ned gripped his fork harder, knowing what his father was trying to say. Camila was welcome. Fila wasn’t. He couldn’t decide if his father’s earlier explanation was true. Did he really think Fila was too scarred to ever heal from her experience in Afghanistan? Or was this prejudice through and through? Either way, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t change his mind about Fila.

And he wasn’t going to hide his feelings, either.

He reached over across Camila and covered Fila’s hand with his for a moment. “You’ll always be welcome here, too.”

Fila smiled back at him. Camila’s eyes widened. Ned patted Fila’s hand and let go, turning just in time to see Holt’s thunderous expression.

“I meant what I said to you.” Holt pointed his knife at him.

“I meant what I said, too.”

“Holt, we have company.” Lisa’s tone brooked no nonsense.

“That’s never stopped him before,” Luke said.

“Don’t you cross me.” Holt raised his voice, ignoring the others.

“Don’t you cross me.” Ned leaned forward.

“Fila—don’t you think we should celebrate our grand openings together?” Camila blurted.

The table fell silent. Holt’s gaze shifted to the newcomer. “What do you mean, grand openings? I thought you were the one with the restaurant.”

Color stained Camila’s cheeks. “Shoot! I mean… I think… I—” She trailed off unhappily.

“I have a restaurant, too,” Fila said suddenly.

“You have a restaurant?” Holt turned to her. “Since when?”

Ned jumped in to rescue her. “Since just this week. Right next to Camila’s on First Street.”

“And how the hell is she paying for that?”

You could have heard a pin drop. All eyes turned to Ned. “I’m financing it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Lisa said, beaming at him. “Two new restaurants in town. The place is shaping up.”

Holt didn’t even miss a beat. “You and me are going to have a little talk in the morning. Got it?”

“Got it.”