Finding His Lone Star Love
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Amy Woods
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11
Chapter One
There was no less-qualified cook in the town of Peach Leaf, Texas—okay, possibly the whole world—than Lucy Monroe, and she would be the first to admit it.
So then, to Lucy, given the way things had been going lately, it wasn’t really all that surprising that she was responsible for preparing lunch for the hungry kids on a field trip, who now crowded the Lonestar Observatory’s small café. Thirty or so second graders, and their already-worn-out teachers and parent-chaperones, who must be standing staring at the still-swinging kitchen door, thinly veiled impatience clouding their features as they wondered what on earth was keeping their solo waitress. Not that Lucy was much of a server, either, for that matter. Lord help her, Lucy needed a break.
Or a miracle.
She was short on both.
Full order pad in hand, she grabbed an apron, tying it quickly over her lemon-colored pencil skirt and white button-down shirt. Lucy rushed to the prep table to start slicing cheese and bread for sandwiches, and to check on the caramel apple pies she’d had the foresight to put in the oven earlier between her regular duties. The pie recipe was her grandma’s—an old favorite—and the only thing she really knew how to get right in the kitchen.
Unlike Nana, Lucy was as out of her element in a kitchen as a hog in a chicken coop, which was exactly why she’d hired the best chef she could find to handle the observatory’s little café. A very skilled, highly trained, seemingly intelligent chef, who, at that very moment, was on a plane to Las Vegas with the fiancée he’d met only a week ago.
Damn that Axel.
Lucy pulled out a knife and began slicing a loaf from the day before, pushing the utensil through the soft bread perhaps a little harder than was necessary.
Surely he could have given more than a day’s notice before he skipped town. But then, Axel had probably made his rash decision with something other than his brain. He’d called and woken Lucy late the evening before to give his resignation. She’d bitten her tongue to prevent her true thoughts from escaping her mouth when Axel had said he would be sorry to cut out on her on such short notice, except for the fact he’d found the love of his life and therefore was the happiest man on the planet and didn’t have a sorry bone in his body.
Lucy had more than enough sorry bones for the both of them. He’d left her high and dry for a red-eye to Vegas, and she hadn’t had a single second to hire someone to take his place. Her regular tasks as the observatory’s manager would have to wait. Finding a suitable new chef was first on her agenda—that is, after she’d appeased the ravenous throng waiting on the other side of the kitchen wall.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open and her coworker and best friend, Tessa McAdams, burst in, quickly closing the door behind her as she stared wide-eyed at Lucy.
“There’s an angry mob out there, Lu,” Tessa said, turning back to the door and standing on tiptoes to stare out the small round window. She ducked back down, fast. “They’re closing in. I think they might come in after us if you don’t get some grub in their bellies soon.”
“Damn that Axel,” Lucy said, out loud this time. She lowered the bread knife into the loaf once more and continued to saw, but when she looked up again a strange expression crossed Tessa’s face, causing Lucy to pause midslice. Tessa crossed her arms and her lips formed a straight line, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief, nose wrinkling up like a rabbit in the same way she’d had since they were kids, whenever Tessa was on the verge of revealing a secret or in the process of calculating a naughty plan.
“Whatever it is, out with it. Now,” Lucy demanded, sparing only a second to toss a serious look at her friend before getting back to work.
“Tell me straight, Lu. I know it’s been a while since you had a decent date, but starting fires just to get a hot firefighter out here is no way to go about catching a man.”
For a second, Lucy had no clue what Tessa was talking about, but then the unmistakable scent of scorched flour and butter hit her nostrils with full force.
“Oh my gosh, Tess!” Lucy said, tossing aside the bread and knife and making her way to the stacked ovens on the other side of the kitchen, as if her life depended on it. The way things were going, it might indeed. “My pies!”
For a second she froze, unable to do more than stand still, shocked, afraid to open the oven and face the inevitable pastry carnage. Thankfully, adrenaline took over.
Her previous impishness wiped away, Tessa rushed over to join her friend. Lucy tossed a set of oven mitts at her. “Here, put these on,” Lucy said, cloaking her own hands in another pair. “You pull out the rack and I’ll grab the pies. We might be able to rescue the ones on the top shelf if we’re quick.”
Tessa took the mitts and followed Lucy’s instructions, but Lucy saw doubt crease her forehead as she pulled out pie after pie, the crust of each more burned than the one before. “Lu,” Tessa said, shaking her head in defeat, “I know less about cooking than you—and that’s saying something—and I hate to mention it, but...I really don’t think these are salvageable.”
The last pie retrieved from the oven of doom, Lucy pulled her hands out of the mitts and grabbed the bread knife. She began cutting off the charred pieces of crust and singed chunks of her special oatmeal-pecan topping, ignoring Tessa’s words. She had to save the pies. Otherwise, there would only be plain sandwiches to serve her guests, and there was no way she could let all those kids and their parents and teachers return to their schools in Austin, thinking that the Lonestar Café had such poor service. The place was in enough financial trouble already.
The Lonestar Observatory had much higher standards in serving guests. In particular, its café was known for delicious, home-cooked Southern comfort food, just the way it had been when Lucy’s dad was in charge of everything. He had ensured that everything in the facility was top-notch, from providing the latest stargazing equipment available, to seeing that the café served only the best cuisine. Her dad had received his PhD in astronomy with high recommendations and, instead of becoming a professor as all of his instructors expected, he, along with her mom, had accepted the local university’s offer to head the small observatory, just a few months before Lucy was born.
Her dad had died the day after her twenty-fifth birthday. Lucy convinced the university to let her take over managing the observatory, on the condition that she hired a properly credentialed expert in the field to stand in as official director. Despite not finishing formal training in astronomy, Lucy knew the observatory better than any of the scientists interviewed for her father’s job before the university admitted she was best for the position. She’d learned everything she needed to know from her dad, first toddling along as he checked the telescopes each day, all the way through high school and her first semesters of college, when she’d begun her own research projects to advance the field. And the director, sweet Dr. Blake, who looked and behaved more like Santa Claus than a scientist—which described the rest of the observatory’s employees—respected Lucy enough to let her have her way in running the place. It wasn’t the same as being a true scientist, but it would have to do. She’d wanted to be an astronomer since she was a little girl, learning constellations and galaxies at her father’s side, and if she had a spare second, she might admit that she regretted not being able to finish school.
But Lucy didn’t have time for regrets.
Everything aside, more than her job and her life and the means by which she was able to take care of her niece, Shiloh, the Lonestar was Lucy’s home. It was where she’d been raised and where she’d learned to look up when things in her own world weren’t going well. It was the only place on the planet where she felt whole and centered; she would do anything to keep it running like a well-oiled machine, even when funding was low or when struggles with Shiloh tested her patience. Or when love-struck chefs quit at the last minute.
So this was about more than burned pies.
It was about letting down her dad—the only man she’d ever been able to trust.
Tessa had come to her side and was attempting to pry the knife out of Lucy’s hands. Finally, warm tears pooling behind her eyes, Lucy let her friend take the utensil as she sank to the floor, settling her face in her hands. “Dad would be so disappointed if he saw what a disaster this is,” Lucy said as she fought against the tears that threatened to escape. “He would never have let this kind of thing happen to this place.” She raised her head and peered at Tessa through her bangs, which stuck out all over and clung to her glasses, frizzy and wild from the chaos of the past half hour.
“Shhh,” Tessa soothed, setting down the knife and crouching beside her friend. She brushed aside Lucy’s frazzled hair. “You know that’s not true, hon. You’re just having a rough time lately, and you’re stressed. Your daddy loved you more than he loved the stars. And that’s saying something.” Tessa lifted Lucy’s chin with her finger and stared into Lucy’s eyes, a mischievous smirk behind her own. “But one thing I do know—he would not have let you set foot in this kitchen without supervision, not even to make a few pies. That’s for damn sure.” Tessa smiled and Lucy felt her chest relax, ever so slightly. She reached up and wiped at her eyes, then made a fist and softly brushed Tessa’s chin in a mock punch. Tessa laughed and the melodious sound of it was almost enough to coax a smile out of Lucy.
Almost—but not quite.
She’d made such a mess of things today. And, even though her best friend had a way of making her feel better, the world still awaited her, and something had to be done about the hungry crowd waiting outside the door. And there were afternoon tours scheduled back-to-back, quarterly tax forms to review and Shiloh to meet at the bus stop. Lucy closed her eyes and sighed, concentrating all her effort on taking one deep breath after the other. This wasn’t the first time she’d had more responsibility than any one person could possibly handle, and it was highly unlikely that it would be the last. She would just have to buck up, make the sandwiches and tackle the rest later, then find some way to deal with the fact that, for today, her beloved place— her home—had poorer pickings than a fast-food joint.
* * *
Sam Haynes had bitten off more than he could chew. He’d assumed the drive to Peach Leaf would be a piece of cake after making the trip to Austin from Houston when his plane had landed that morning, but clearly he’d underestimated the distance. The Texas road stretched on forever and looked much the same the whole way, save for a few tiny towns along the route, and not a Starbucks in sight. Hills with clusters of trees here and there, but mostly dust, dust—and more dust. And real tumbleweeds, which Sam had only seen in his grandfather’s beloved old black-and-white Westerns. It was true what they said— everything was bigger here—including, unfortunately, the highways.
Luckily, he’d seen the sign for Peach Leaf about a mile-and-a-half back, shining like an oasis in the desert, and there couldn’t be that much farther left to go—he hoped. A native New Yorker, Sam wasn’t used to driving this much, and he’d got to the point where he’d do just about anything this side of the law to get a decent meal and a bed for the night. And he’d die for a strong cup of coffee.
His journey had been long in more ways than one.
He’d received a phone call about his daughter’s whereabouts from the PI he’d hired a few weeks prior, just when he’d been about ready to jump out of his skin from the wait. The guy seemed sure this time—he’d really found her. Sam had thought such a feat near impossible, given how little he had to go on, but the investigator had come with high recommendations from a friend mindful enough not to ask pressing questions, and sure enough, the guy had accomplished the task. After taking a few days off to process the news and make some plans, Sam had notified the chefs at the three restaurants he owned that he would be available only by email until further notice, and he’d booked a plane out of New York City, with a room waiting for him at The Frederickson Bed-and-Breakfast in Peach Leaf.
Now here he was, in the middle of nowhere in West Texas, looking for a girl he’d never even met. A girl who, until fairly recently, he hadn’t even known existed.
A few of his closest friends had pronounced Sam’s plan crazy for picking up and leaving without any real explanation, but he knew enough to know that sometimes, the crazy thing was the right thing.
His heart swelled at the thought of seeing her for the first time. Would she look like him? Would she have Sam’s brown eyes and hair? Or would she have Jennifer’s green eyes and wavy, reddish hair, with freckles dotting a button nose? Would she have his love of books and music, or would she be more like her mysterious mother, whom Sam had barely known?
It was only meant to be a one-night stand—no strings attached. Jennifer had been hesitant to even offer up her first name, though Sam insisted. He’d been young, a frat boy in college, and she was just another coed notch on his bedpost before he’d wised-up and straightened out his life. When he’d got the call from Jennifer a month ago, saying she was sorry, but she just had to tell him something she’d been keeping to herself for years, he’d been expecting anything but the news she gave him. Before she’d spoken the words that forever changed his life in an instant, he had thought that maybe she needed help, or maybe she just wanted to get together for a drink after all those years—hell, maybe she needed money. Anything was possible. But instead, the strawberry-haired girl from a reckless one-night stand whose last name he’d never known gave him the most life-altering news a man could hear.
They had a daughter.
He had a daughter.
As Jennifer explained everything to him, Sam had been so confused and angry he could barely breathe. It turned out she had given their baby to her younger sister long ago when she’d been broke, unemployed, “lost”—whatever that meant, Sam didn’t want to know—and couldn’t handle having a kid. A recent hospitalization for mental illness, it seemed, had prompted Jennifer to think long and hard about some of her choices. She had decided that, even if their daughter didn’t have a mom, she should have a chance to know her father. The girl’s name was Shiloh, and Jennifer’s sister had adopted her when she was an infant. Jennifer said she’d been back to visit only once, but never again. Even when pressed, she wouldn’t say why. She would only reveal that it had been a mistake to go back that one time, and she would never do it again. She’d also said that she wasn’t sure if her sister and child even lived in the same place anymore—she had called a few times but the old number was dead, and she hadn’t tried any harder than that, preferring to leave them alone.
Sam’s heart had fallen straight to the bottom of his shoes at the news. It had taken a weekend of pacing his town house, racking his brain to figure out what needed to be done. Maybe Jennifer had abandoned the girl, but Sam, now that he knew of her, had no intention of doing the same. He’d been irresponsible and foolish as a young man, but he’d done his best to change his ways, and he wouldn’t turn away from this obligation. He couldn’t even if he’d wanted to.
Moreover, how could Jennifer have kept this from him? How stubborn must she have been to handle the news on her own? Sure, he was young and foolish back then, but he would have been there for Jennifer and their daughter. He would have done everything he could have to help raise their child. He would never have given up on his own kid.
The road began to narrow and Sam’s thoughts dissipated. This had to be it. The Lonestar Observatory. He had no real idea what his daughter was doing there. Her location was all the PI had been able to find so far, and he’d assured Sam that the records he’d been able to locate regarding Sam’s daughter pointed to the observatory. It looked, he’d said, as if she might even live there, though the reason for that, like so much else, was still unknown. But in his mind, all Sam could think about was: what could a twelve-year-old be doing spending so much time at a science center? The whole thing was a mystery he’d just begun to unfold. Who knew what other secrets would turn up?
He had to find out all he could about her, regardless of what that might involve.
He turned his rental truck into the winding road that marked the way to his destination. He could see large white objects almost the size of buildings spotting the green land, though he assumed given where he was that they had to be telescopes. Even in his haste, and despite his fatigue from driving so far, Sam sensed a quiet beauty about the place. Clusters of trees blanketed acre upon acre with the white stargazers dotting the landscape here and there, like some kind of industrial flower. Sam didn’t know anything about astronomy, but if that’s what his daughter was interested in, he would find a way to be interested, too.
He would do just about anything to get to know her, but he’d also have to be careful. He couldn’t let her, or anyone who knew her, find out his relationship to her before he was ready—before she was ready. He’d give himself just a week to check on her, even if only from a distance; he’d make sure she was doing okay and getting along well, that she was safe and healthy and cared for, and then he would head home and decide how to proceed. He’d researched his legal rights, but he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt his daughter. If his child didn’t want anything to do with him, he supposed he’d somehow have to make his peace with that, but he was hoping against hope that he wouldn’t have to face such a thing.
The trees thinned as he reached what must have been the main building, and Sam pulled into a space in the parking lot out front next to a couple of school buses. His heart climbed into his throat and breathing was suddenly difficult.
Despite the hours spent planning, going over what he would say and how he would explain his abrupt arrival, his mouth went dry as reality closed in. Maybe his friends were right—maybe he was some kind of crazy for jumping into this headfirst. He’d had plenty of miles now to think about how he’d chosen to handle things. Patience had never been his strong suit, and even Sam had to admit that maybe this wasn’t the most intelligent move. But what if... What if he’d had a phone number and called instead—and been refused? Sam swallowed at the painful idea. At least this way he could see her, and give her a chance to choose whether or not she wanted him to be a part of her life.
Regardless of whether he was allowed to be a dad, Sam was a father now, and he’d followed his instincts—for that he would make no apology. If he had any say in the matter, he would make sure that his daughter didn’t grow up without a dad. At least not any longer.
He’d made his choice and he wasn’t going back, and he’d start by getting out of the truck. Then he would walk to the front door. One step at a time, he’d make his way into his daughter’s life, and hope that she’d eventually allow him to stick around.
* * *
“Well,” said Santa Claus, or, as the nameplate on his cherrywood desk indicated, Dr. Edward Blake, “I’m the official director of the observatory, but if you want more information, you’re gonna want to talk to Ms. Lucy Monroe. She’s the real brains around here.”
Brains, huh? If Edward Blake, PhD, a man who, by the multitude of plaques and degrees decorating the wall must be a very successful and accomplished astronomer, wasn’t the brains of the place, then Ms. Monroe must be a damn genius.
“All right, then, point the way,” Sam said, working to keep his anxiety from saturating his voice.
Dr. Blake eyed Sam up and down, assessing him more like a suspicious father before his teenage daughter’s first date than the director of a research institution.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea just now.” Dr. Blake crossed his arms over his ample abdomen. Geez, the man couldn’t look more like good old Saint Nick if he’d been wearing a red suit. Sam could hardly help the smile that threatened to spread across his face. This guy was a dead ringer for the Christmas character.
“And why is that, Mr. Clau—Dr. Blake?” Sam was not a patient man, but he could appear that way when he wanted to. And even though his patience was being tested at the moment, he would do nothing to ruin his chance of getting to meet his daughter.
“Well,” Dr. Blake said, leaning across the desk to stare straight into Sam’s eyes. Now Sam felt as if he really was on trial. His pulse quickened and he sucked in a breath, letting the air out slowly as he gathered his thoughts. “Because you still haven’t given me a good answer to my question. What exactly is it that you’re doing here, Mr. Haynes?”
Sam leaned back, putting a foot or two of distance between himself and the doc. He could feel his heart rate returning to something resembling normal as he took a few more deep breaths.
“Look, Dr. Blake, I just need some information, that’s all. I’m here on business, and I really need to talk with someone who knows the place inside and out. Since, as you said, that person is Ms. Monroe, I’d just like to have a moment with her. I will explain everything, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
The doctor leaned back, looking slightly satisfied with Sam’s answer. He offered Sam a small smile, and damned if Sam didn’t feel as if the man was about to reach under his desk and pull out a present from a great red sack. This guy really needed to consider a job playing the man in the big red suit, if he hadn’t already.
“All right, Mr. Haynes, I’ll take you to her. And I apologize if I’m being a little overly cautious.” Dr. Blake folded his hands on the desk and a look of sincere concern brushed over his features. “It’s just that, well, Lucy’s special. She’s indispensable here, and she’s had a hard go of things. It’s important to me that I look out for her, is all. I’m probably saying too much. I just needed to know you didn’t have anything shady up your suit sleeve there.”
The doctor pointed a finger in Sam’s direction and Sam looked down at his expensive Italian suit. He supposed he was a tad overdressed. People seemed to go a little more on the casual side out here in the country. He’d have to keep that in mind and maybe stop for some different clothes if he ended up sticking around. He reminded himself not to get ahead of the game. There was still a considerable chance that the girl would want nothing to do with him.
And of course, now he’d have to get past Lucy first, provided she knew anything about his daughter. The PI had said that someone resembling an older version of the child in the picture Jennifer had provided had been seen more than once at the observatory. In hindsight, it wasn’t much to go on, and arguably not near enough to warrant the steps he’d already taken. Then again, you didn’t have to be an astronomer to figure out that his situation was fraught with difficulty at all ends. There wouldn’t come a better time to face whatever his future as a father might hold.
Best to just jump in and then learn how to swim.
It was all he could do, and he could only hope that following his instincts would prove the right course of action.
“Nothing at all up my sleeve, Dr. Blake,” Sam said, cautiously calculating his next words as he revised his original plan. “You see, I’m in the restaurant business, and I’m interested in the observatory’s café for market research purposes, is all. Nothing more.”
Sam feigned a glance at his watch for an excuse to look away from the doctor’s eyes to avoid choking on his own lie. He wasn’t in the habit of stretching the truth, not even to strangers, and it made him a little sick in his stomach to start things out this way, regardless of whether the doctor would have anything to do with him after that moment.
So he needed the people of Peach Leaf on his side, and he’d need all the support he could get if he ran into any problems. If his child did have any interest in a relationship with her dad, Sam was fully prepared to rearrange his life to meet her needs—flexibility was a luxury his career afforded, and he would use it if necessary. He wouldn’t do anything to upset the girl’s world, but he would do anything in his power to be as much a part of her life as she’d allow. If she wanted him around, Sam would do what he could to make it happen, and in a small town, that would almost certainly involve getting acquainted with the locals.
“Well, then, if that’s all,” Dr. Blake said, rolling back his desk chair and lifting his considerable bulk to make his way around to the front, “let me show you to Lucy’s office.”
The doctor held out an arm and Sam walked ahead and opened the door, holding it for Dr. Blake. As they walked, he couldn’t help humoring himself, to quell the anxiety that had taken up permanent residence inside him the past few days. “Have you ever thought about dressing up as Santa Claus at Christmastime? I would venture I’m not the first to tell you that you have the perfect beard for it. Kids would love you,” Sam suggested, grinning, doing his best to lighten the tension.
Dr. Blake stopped midstep and turned to stare wide-eyed at Sam, as if he’d never heard anything more ridiculous in his life.
“Now, why on earth would I do that, Mr. Haynes?”
Sam choked on his words and tried to keep the surprise from his expression. A very uncomfortable few seconds passed before a huge grin stretched across the doctor’s face, and a deep, rumbling chuckle escaped.
“I’m just messing with you, kid. Of course I’ve considered it. In fact, the observatory puts up a giant Christmas tree out on the café’s porch each year, and we do a big ceremony of lighting the thing. I dress up like the big guy from the North Pole and we make a thing of it. It’s a lot of fun. You see,” Dr. Blake said, his voice more serious, “this is more than just a place for science research and learning. It’s a big part of the community. That’s why it’s so important that we keep it alive. Tell you what—after you meet with Ms. Monroe, why don’t you come back by my office and I’ll set you up with one of the interns? You should check the place out while you’re here. And of course,” he said, nudging Sam with an elbow, “the museum always welcomes donations.”
Dr. Blake smiled wide at Sam, who was fairly certain the old man winked. Sam had never believed in Santa even as a child, and he hadn’t had many pleasant holiday seasons growing up. With a single mom who’d had to work so much, there hadn’t always been much time for celebration. But if he’d ever put his cards on a miracle, he supposed now was the time. He could use all the help he could get.
* * *
After searching for Ms. Monroe all over the museum, Dr. Blake suggested they try the observatory’s café.
“Here we are,” the man said, as they rounded a hallway corner and Sam saw a sign for the Lonestar Café. “It’s the only other place she could be, though between you and me, I can’t imagine what she’d be doing in the kitchen, unless she’s having a snack. She’s in charge of the staff and in all the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never once seen that woman take a break during the business week. Besides, anyone who knows her can tell you that Lucy Monroe sure as shoot does not belong near a kitchen.”
The doctor chuckled and Sam felt as if he’d missed out on some sort of inside joke. Being in the small Texas town, even for a short while, would take some getting used to. Not that people weren’t friendly where he came from—it’s just that the pace was different. He was used to the city and the constant bustle of people moving from one thing to the next, but here, the director of a significant institution seemed to have all the time and patience in the world to chat with Sam and show him around. He would have to be careful in this environment, where people were more likely to notice him, and Lord knows he must stick out like a sore thumb.
Sam and Dr. Blake walked through a small, but comfortable, dining area with beautifully handcrafted wooden tables and chairs, and Sam wished he had a moment to stop and admire the work; he had a fondness for carpentry and had taken a few classes. He had developed some skill and he’d made a few pieces here and there, mostly for friends, but he’d never had the luxury of taking on a real project. Maybe he would finally be able to carve out some time to do so.
As they got closer to the back of the café, a terrible scent bit at Sam’s nose. As a trained chef, there was one thing he loathed the smell of more than anything in his kitchen, and that was the exact odor permeating the air as he inhaled. A thin cloud of smoke lent a gray haze to the area, and Sam and Dr. Blake had to force their way through a crowd, some of whom were peering through the kitchen door. They all probably had the same question. What in the hell was burning? Sam sniffed the air again and had the answer in an instant: butter and flour. Someone on the other side of that door was ruining pastry. Maybe he’d be of use here in more ways that he had anticipated.
“It’s hotter than a hog’s behind in here” were the first words Sam heard the second he opened the door.
“Well, thanks for the welcome,” Sam joked.
The owner of the voice, a woman with olive skin and short, spiky black hair, stood near a prep counter, smiling at him, and was joined a second later by the cutest girl Sam had ever laid eyes on. She was petite with gorgeous curves, reminiscent of 1940s pinup beauties and comic book heroines, though, sadly, the clothes she wore did much to hide what he guessed was an incredible figure. Curls the color of autumn-red leaves brushed her shoulders. Huge green eyes, filled with what looked like disappointment and traces of tears, maybe from the smoke Sam could see billowing out of the oven in great clouds, peered at him curiously from behind large purple glasses.
“Hi, there. Looks like you could use a hand.”
Dr. Blake said he’d see them all later and disappeared as fast as he could. Sam couldn’t blame the doc, but there was no chance of escape for him now, as he’d walked straight into a war zone.
Sam rushed over to join the two women, grabbing oven mitts from a counter along the way, and began taking the pies from them and dumping the offending confections into the nearest large trash can.
“Oh my gosh! What do you think you’re doing?” the lovely, green-eyed girl shrieked, actually pulling a pie from Sam’s hands and holding it to her chest as if he’d just snatched a baby from her, the momentum causing what remained of the pie’s less thoroughly burned contents to spill on her shirt. Sam stared at her, alarmed at her reaction.
“I’m saving whatever disaster of a dessert you’ve got going here, is what I’m doing,” he said, gently taking back the pie. He had to peel the woman’s fingers from the edges, and as he did, chunks of blackened crust hit the ground, causing her cheeks to redden until she had no choice but to let Sam slip it out of her hands.
“Who are you? And what on earth are you doing in my kitchen?” she asked. Sam had the feeling she meant to sound stern, but her voice came out thin and defeated.
“I’m Sam. Sam Haynes,” he said, in as soothing a voice as he could. From the look of things, the woman had had a hard day, and he could understand her frustration at a stranger showing up, but he had the strong idea she could use his help.
“This is your kitchen?” He raised an eyebrow, suspicious. It didn’t line up with what Dr. Blake had mentioned, but if the kitchen were indeed hers, clearly he’d arrived right in the nick of time.
“Well. For now it is. My chef quit and—” she glared at Sam and placed both hands on her hips “—what difference is it to you anyway? Why are you here?”
“Actually, if you’re Ms. Monroe,” Sam said, glancing at the apple filling–splattered name tag on her lapel that read Lucy, “I’d really like to speak to you in private.”
“Regarding?”
“Well, it’s complicated,” Sam said, weighing his words carefully. He cursed himself for not thinking this through all the way. Then he had an idea. He squared his shoulders. “Actually, I’m in the restaurant business and I have some experience. It’s clear you’re in need of a chef, and it appears I’ve come at a good time.”
“You’re really a chef?” she asked, eyeing him up and down as she took in his choice of outfit.
“Straight from heaven, it would seem,” said the other woman, moving forward and offering Sam her hand. “Hi, I’m Tessa. Forgive my bestie here. We’ve had a rough morning, if you hadn’t figured that out already. The chef really did just up and quit, so it’s true that you are just in time if, in fact, you’re really a chef, Mr. Haynes.”
Still holding his hand after shaking it, Tessa batted her eyelashes at Sam. The woman he’d assumed was Ms. Monroe tossed her an irritated look.
“What?” Tessa asked, innocence sugaring her words as she finally released Sam’s hand.
“Never mind her,” Lucy interrupted, waving a hand at her friend. “Where did you train, Mr. Haynes?”
“Call me Sam. Please.”
“Okay, Sam. Where did you train? And where are you from? And what—”
“Hang on now. Let’s tackle one thing at a time, if that’s all right with you.”
She seemed to back down and lower her defenses, just a little, enough so that Sam had a moment to figure out where to go next. The fact that he was an experienced chef was the definite truth. From there, he’d have to be careful. He wouldn’t outright lie to her, but he couldn’t come out with the full reason for his presence there, either. He would figure out a way to bring up his daughter, but for now, he seized the opportunity before him.
He had a way in, and it might be a good approach to find out more about his kid. He’d have to take his chances. He could always quit and head out of town if things didn’t work out, or if the PI’s info had somehow been wrong. But he knew when a bone had been thrown in his direction, and he wasn’t about to toss it aside.
“I have no formal training, but I assure you, I’m qualified. I know my way around a kitchen and I own a few restaurants here and there. I can get paperwork to you soon enough, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it looks like you’ve got a little emergency here that needs taking care of before we talk official documents. I’ll help you out now, free of charge, and if you like my cooking, and if the customers leave satisfied with the food, then maybe you’ll consider giving me the job on a more permanent basis.” Sam held out his hand, offering a deal that could benefit them both.
Lucy narrowed her eyes, staring him up and down. Skepticism—and he didn’t blame her for it—was written all over her face, but she accepted his hand. Warmth rushed through his skin at her touch as though he’d jumped into a sunbaked river. Sam saw a flash of something in her eyes, and he knew she’d felt it too, but it passed just as quickly.
“I don’t think I’ve said yet, but I’m Lucy. Lucy Monroe.”
Sam gently took back his hand and crossed his fingers that she’d buy in to his offer. He knew he could prove himself in the kitchen, and doing so was a start to proving himself to the town, where he hoped to find his daughter.
“All right. You fix this mess and we’ll talk,” she said, glancing nervously toward the door as she pushed her glasses farther onto her nose.
The motion was endearing, and, even though he’d never dated a girl like her, Lucy was undeniably adorable in her giant, grape-colored glasses. Still, he couldn’t keep himself from wondering what she would look like if he took them off.
“Great,” Sam said, a sigh of relief escaping his lungs as he pushed away the scene he’d begun to imagine against his will. He was surprised at how good her mild approval felt, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that now. He had a lot of work ahead of him if he was going to convince her to let him stay.
“Don’t get carried away yet, Sam,” Lucy said, holding up her palm. “I make no promises. Just...cook the lunch,” she said, waving him away, “and we’ll go from there.”
Sam nodded and took off his suit jacket to begin rolling up his sleeves. Lucy showed him where the aprons were, observing him suspiciously the whole time as if already regretting her decision. He could tell she wouldn’t be easy to win over. Something about her indicated it would take a lot of hard work and dedication to get her to trust him. And, though Lucy’s last name was the same as Jennifer’s, he still didn’t know Lucy’s exact relationship to his daughter. He still had a lot to figure out. But he’d been given a lucky shot, and he planned on taking it.
* * *
Tessa and Lucy watched in amazement as Sam prepared turkey and provolone sandwiches, faster than either of them could believe. But they weren’t just any turkey and cheese stacks. He scoured the pantry as if he belonged in that kitchen, pulling out items as if he’d worked there his entire life, and chucked pine nuts, olive oil and basil into the food processor to whip up a pesto sauce to spread on the bread. It looked and smelled amazing. Lucy ate in the café often since it was convenient and inexpensive, and Axel’s dishes had been delightful in a comforting sort of way, but Sam’s style was more adventurous and a little more daring than anyone the Lonestar had ever hired before.
Lucy wondered if maybe he would prove to be a good change.
Ticket and tour sales were suffering lately. It seemed families and schools weren’t spending as much on educational vacations and field trips, at least not to the observatory. Despite some steady funding from the university, which had seen some scary cutbacks in the past few years, they needed the revenue from tourists to cover employee salaries and up-to-date equipment. Lucy and Dr. Blake had already spent agonizing hours, scaling down as much as they could without actually letting anyone go, which was something Lucy all but outright refused to do. If she didn’t have Shiloh to provide for, she would give up her job before making anyone redundant. She feared that would become necessary at some point, but she kept hoping she could push that day further and further into the future until things got better and she could just forget about it altogether. Maybe hiring someone like Sam was a good idea. At least they could give him a try and see how visitors responded. Maybe they could keep some of the old favorites on the menu and add some new dishes to test things out.
“Do you think he’s legit?” Lucy asked Tessa, who had cleaned up several pie pans while Sam worked, and had come to stand at Lucy’s side, blatantly enjoying the sight of their new company.
“What?” Tessa asked, forcing her eyes away from the new guy with concentrated effort.
Lucy rolled her eyes.
“I said, do you think he’s legit? Do you think he’s really a chef?”
“I just think he’s pretty,” Tessa said, resting her elbows on the table with her chin in her hands.
Lucy jabbed her friend in the side, but stopped short of disagreeing. She wasn’t blind, after all.
“Come on. I just let a total stranger take over the kitchen, which I’m indirectly responsible for thanks to Axel the ass, and all you can think about is how he looks in that suit.” Even as she spoke, Lucy knew she was just voicing her own thoughts. Apparently Tess caught on.
“Hey, sister. I said nothing about that suit. I’m just appreciating the scenery. It’s nice to see a man dressed up, rather than the rest of the scientists in their twenty-year-old khakis and plaid.” Her eyes gleamed. Tessa teased them, but Lucy knew her best friend loved the geniuses just as much as she did. “Besides, you should have seen the way he was ogling you earlier. That man couldn’t pull his eyes away, and, you know I love you and all, but you’re a mess today, so he must have some real interest.”
Lucy shook her head, used to her friend’s playfulness, and it was Tessa’s turn to roll her eyes before pointing a thumb in Sam’s direction.
“Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? We’ve been watching him the whole time. The dude washed his hands. And maybe he’ll be able to calm the starving masses outside the door. As far as I can see, he looks like he’s got everything under control.”
“What do you reckon he’s doing here, though? He’s a little too timely, don’t you think?”
“Maybe applying for Axel’s job, like he said. He’s a handsome stranger in Peach Leaf, Luce. We could use a little mystery around here, so don’t be so quick to kill it.”
“But I didn’t post the position yet. I haven’t had time,” Lucy said.
Tessa raised her palms in exasperation.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, sweetheart. Maybe he’s an angel dropped right out of the dadgum sky,” Tessa said, her face filled with more conviction than Lucy was comfortable with, considering the woman’s ridiculous suggestion.
Lucy didn’t believe in angels, or miracles, or chance, or luck. She believed in what she knew, in what she could see and touch and quantify. She believed in hard data and facts. Although something inside her told her that Sam Haynes was okay. He didn’t seem like an ax murderer, and he dressed decently and had showered at least. Not that Lucy was an expert on appearances, but he seemed all right. And there were those sandwiches and cookies. So far, she had no valid reason not to give him a shot.
She would consider this an experiment, and, if it didn’t work out, she’d start with a posting in the Peach Leaf Gazette. Jobs were in short supply in their small town, and there were a lot of folks looking for work. If she couldn’t find a trained chef to take over full-time, she was sure someone could be taught to manage breakfast, at least.
But then, who would teach that person?
Lucy hung her head.
She really didn’t have much of a choice at the moment. Sam looked better and better for the job as she weighed her limited alternatives and came up with a whole load of nothing.
Tessa was right. Not that Lucy would voice as much.
“I suppose he deserves a chance. But, if this plan doesn’t work out, I’m coming at you first.”
“The only reason you’ll come to me is to thank me,” Tessa said, crossing her arms with an air of confidence and giving Lucy a fake angry look, complete with her tongue stuck out.
Sometimes it was as if not a moment had passed, and they were still in second grade, with shy, bookish Lucy holding up walls at school dances while Tessa partied the nights away, both of them carrying bruises inside that no one else could see.
With the exception of a few minor details, not much had altered. It was just one of the many ups and downs of living the whole of one’s life in the same small town.
