An Officer and a Fortune
Author
Nina Crespo
Reads
18,0K
Chapters
27
Chapter One
Nicole Fortune strolled through the food section of the outdoor flea market or, as the locals called it, Mariana’s Market, located in a rural area just outside the town of Rambling Rose.
The items her fellow shoppers chose from tables shaded by green canopies illuminated who they were as clearly as the sun lit up the Texas morning sky.
Adventure seekers lived for the challenge of trying something new. Easygoing types tended to love all things sweet. But those tiny tells were just the basics.
The young brunette soothing the baby securely tucked in a gray striped wrap while carefully examining the organic peaches—most likely, she was making baby food. The silver-haired older couple smiling at each other as they sampled raspberries handed to them by the vendor—they would probably enjoy them over breakfast along with the eggs they’d purchased. And the redhead wearing blue workout clothes—she had the willpower of a saint to ignore the alluring scents of cinnamon bread and apple pastries flavoring the breeze. Veggies were undoubtedly high on her list.
A couple of yards away, the redhead picked out a head of romaine from one of the stalls. After paying for the lettuce and slipping it into a cloth bag, she went across the graveled aisle and bought cucumbers and a pint of grape tomatoes.
I knew it. As Nicole purchased a loaf of cinnamon bread, a light wind blew her blond hair back over the shoulders of her white fitted tee. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, unable to hold back a small smile at being right about her prediction.
If someone had asked her about her own story of food, it was a simple one. As the executive chef of Roja, she lived to create dishes with flavors that raised anticipation for the next bite.
Her phone buzzed with an alarm in the side pocket of her black cargo pants. A reminder that as much as she loved her Saturday visits to Mariana’s, she had to get back to her restaurant.
Switching her netted market bag filled with lemons to her other hand, she took out her phone and turned off the alarm. She still needed rosemary for the chicken recipe she wanted to test out as a special for the upcoming summer menu. The first day of the warmest season of the year was only seven weeks away, and she was way behind in selecting entrées. Last time she’d visited the marketplace, she’d found a nice selection of herbs midway down the aisle.
“Excuse me.” A man walked past her from behind, gravel crunching under his beige Lugz boots.
As she scooted over, his arm bumped Nicole’s, raising tingles on hers. The appealing woodsy scent trailing after him woke up her senses like the first whiff of coffee rising in the steam from her favorite mug.
Perfect-fitting jeans encased his long legs. A deep tan pullover shirt stretched along his back. His unhurried pace emanated purpose and confidence as his wide shoulders made room for him in the crowd.
Where had he been hiding? She hadn’t seen him around town before. But then again...he looked familiar.
As she walked forward, he veered right to a table with red apples, giving her a partial glimpse of him from a distance. His dark hair cut in a high-and-tight fade emphasized what looked to be an interesting light brown face. His muscular-looking chest and biceps naturally flexed under his shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms.
He moved to the next stall, and Nicole took his spot in front of the apples. His wonderful scent lingered. Disappointment hit as soon as the breeze took it away.
Farther down, he paused at a stall laden with squash. Skipping over the more familiar varieties of long yellow necks and zucchini in front of him, he selected a round green tatume variety.
That was an interesting choice. How was he preparing it—grilled, sautéed, baked? Was he a fellow chef or a foodie?
“Is he single?”
Ashley’s and Megan’s voices echoed in her thoughts. Had her sisters been there, they would have encouraged her to go after him and find out.
“Hey, Nicole,” Louella O’Brien called out to her.
Nicole dragged her attention away from the guy and looked back over her shoulder.
Thin but sturdy-looking in jeans, a green plaid button-down and a red apron, the eightysomething woman with pulled back, dark gray-and-silver hair, waved her over to her stall.
Nicole slipped her phone back into her pocket and walked back to greet Louella.
Lou’s Luscious Jams was one of her and her sisters’ favorite vendors. “Hi, Lou. How are you?”
“I’m good.” Lou smiled and fine lines creased her tanned face, friendliness reflected in her clear green eyes.
“How’s business?”
“Booming.” Lou pointed to her half-empty table. “I’ve only been here a few hours, and this is all I have left. Now that we have a revamped farmers market section, lots of new people are stopping in.”
“That’s wonderful.”
The area with matching canopies lined up on either side of the gravel aisle really did bring more attention to the produce, baked goods and other tempting food items offered by the vendors. It was also close to Mariana’s food truck, the central point of the market, placing it directly in the flow of foot traffic. And the changes also showcased the spirit of togetherness bringing the ranchers, farmers and other longtime residents there to sell their goods.
That sense of small-town closeness was one of the things that had prompted Nicole to relocate from Florida to Rambling Rose.
Lou held out an eight-ounce quilt-patterned jar of red jam to Nicole. “I thought you might be interested in having some of your favorite before I sold out. Made it fresh this week.”
Roasted strawberry. Nicole’s mouth watered as she imagined the jam slathered on warm buttered toast and spooned over vanilla ice cream. “Thank you.”
“Need a bag?”
“I’ve got one.” Nicole reached inside her net bag, pulled out a folded cloth tote and put the jar inside it. “I’ll take two more if you have them. I had to pry the last jar out of my sisters’ hands just to get some.”
She’d stored the jam in the back of the pantry, but as usual, her sisters had sniffed it out. But that wasn’t surprising. As triplets, they’d never been able to keep anything from each other for very long.
Chuckling, Lou handed her two more. “Here you go. But I suspect your sisters eating the last of this won’t be a problem for you anymore. You’re living on your own now, aren’t you?”
As Nicole paid Lou for the jam, images flickered through her mind. A week ago, Ashley had gotten married to Rodrigo Mendoza. Their ceremony at the Texas Mission—a beautiful, historic adobe structure near town with terra-cotta floors, timber arches and a ceiling inlaid with colorful Mexican tiles—had been lovely and sweet. And the day had become even more romantic when Rodrigo’s brother Mark had proposed to Megan. Now that they were engaged, Megan was spending most of her free time with him instead of the suite of rooms she and her sisters had once shared at their family’s Fame and Fortune Ranch.
Lou was right. Ashley had her own home now with Rodrigo. Megan spent most of her time with Mark in Austin. She didn’t have to worry about having enough jam anymore.
Happiness for her sisters along with a teensy bit of loneliness and envy rose inside Nicole. “Yes, I’m on my own now.”
As Lou slipped the money into the pocket of her apron, she gave Nicole an all-knowing look. “Well, you know what they say. Good things come in threes. I’m sure you’ll be following in their footsteps soon enough.”
