Cowboy in the Kitchen (19 page)

“Gabe, this is Gillian Moore, the owner of this incredible new boutique hotel, where you’ll be vacationing with your family this summer. And, Gillian, this rascal is—”

“There’s no need to introduce this man.” She cut Hunt off. “Sir, I’ve had the pleasure of dining at a couple of your restaurants, and I’ve been watching you on television for years.” She took the hand he offered and trusted he wouldn’t notice hers had a case of the shakes.

He smiled warmly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for crashing the gate like this without so much as a call ahead. But I happened to be free for a few days. My wife wanted to rest up from the holidays, and all my kids want to do is play with their video games. So when Hunt told me what was going on, I grabbed the bag that’s always packed and headed to the airport with him. He assured me that you’d take an unexpected guest in stride.”

“I’m a hotelier, so drop-ins are always welcome. And I’ve adjusted to so many things I hadn’t expected since I moved to Texas that now ‘the bigger, the better, and the more, the merrier’ has become my philosophy. As it so happens we’ve recently had a cancellation, so there’s a room available and ready for you.”

“Yeah, Hunt brought me up to speed about that, but I’d already gotten the short version from Twitter. I’m sure it’ll be on every entertainment news program tonight.”

She hung her head. “Oh, do you really think so?”

“Yes, but that’s exactly what we want! When Robby arrives tomorrow, and we reach out to the network together, you’re going to have
Entertainment News
here in person.”

“To cover what news event?” She still had no idea where this was headed.

“Let’s get Gabe settled in his room, then we’ll reconvene in the kitchen to strategize, while we sort through everything that got delivered today.”

Hunt showed Gabe inside while Gillian hobbled to a nearby house phone to ask her dad to handle check-in duty since the staff was not scheduled to arrive until tomorrow.

Her mother caught her just as she hung up. “Honey, this just arrived by special messenger. It’s for Rachel.” Meredith held a large garment box with the name of a ritzy bridal boutique in New York as the return address. “Do you suppose it’s her wedding dress?”

“I’m sure of it. She instructed me yesterday that I could keep it or toss it in the Dumpster. It made no difference to her. It’s a custom design, so she can’t take it back, and she doesn’t want it in her possession.”

The mother and daughter locked eyes and smiled.

“Shall we play dress up?” Meredith asked.

“Might as well.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

Gillian sighed. “Give it to me straight.”

“The wedding cake will be delivered at nine o’clock Friday morning.”

“The wedding cake!” Gillian smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead. Yet another expensive detail that couldn’t be canceled. “Mom, I have no idea what our cadre of chefs has come up with, but it better incorporate a twelve-hundred-dollar cake.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T
HURSDAY
WAS
A
blur in Gillian’s mind.

Robby’s incredible motor home cruised onto the property before daybreak. Eight people, including a cable network star, climbed out and never slowed down for the rest of the day. The hotel staff arrived, expecting to welcome a bridal party and instead
they
were welcomed by lights, cameras and action.

Gillian got a taste of reality television as people with video cameras climbed over banisters, furnishings and potted plants to get the best angle for each shot. Incredibly there wasn’t a single sign they’d intruded on her space, and after a couple of hours, they seemed to fade into the wallpaper.

The kitchen was a different story. It had been transformed into a television studio where cameras were affixed to the ceiling and every corner of the work area to capture live food preparation. The three chefs hovered around the big pine table over endless cups of coffee and talked through the production they would tape the next day. The message of the show would be taking the sting out of a canceled wedding and turning the scene of the crime into a festive event.

Robby would throw down the gauntlet to Gabe and Hunt to transform the wedding menu, converting old standby dinner reception fare for a hundred guests into exciting, mouthwatering dishes that could only be found in top-rated restaurants.

And for dessert, they would each take a layer of the three-tiered cake and fashion it into something completely new. To complicate the challenge, each chef would come up with a personal theme for the sweet ending to his meal. And at the end, a crowd of locals would be invited to sample the dishes and declare one chef a winner.

Cullen had been recruited to round up the university’s board of directors, who were all on winter break, and invite them to judge the meal. McCarthy was tasked with running down the mayor and city council members, and Joiner was expected to bring in acquaintances from the horsey set he ran with during polo season. Robby and Gabe had called a few friends from their cable network and put out the word that they were holding an event at the small hotel in East Texas where a secret celebrity wedding had been canceled. No names were mentioned but none were necessary.

The phone rang endlessly, all the rooms were booked, and the rented tables under the white tent for the next day’s reception were reserved with standing room only. Gillian limped around as best she could, staying out of the way of fast-moving hand trucks and delivery personnel. The scent of hundreds of exotic flowers permeated the air, but tomorrow the aroma would change to garlic, onions and roasted meats.

The despair that had invaded Gillian’s spirit on Christmas Day had been replaced with cautious optimism. If history was any indicator, a lot could still go wrong. But major-league talent was in charge of the recovery, and all she could do was hang on for dear life and enjoy the ride.

* * *

H
UNT
ARRIVED
AT
the mansion on Friday morning ready to rumble. He was in his element and in Pap’s place. It was a wish come true, just not in the way he’d imagined or planned. Though that was to be expected, since he’d never done any planning. This wouldn’t be happening if not for Gillian’s dreams, and all the hard work she and her folks had done to turn those dreams into reality.

This day would be a one-of-a-kind experience that Hunt would never forget. And, if the opportunity presented itself, he had every intention of making it unforgettable for Gillian. But first he had to get through the challenge. The final show would be edited down to forty-eight minutes before airing, but the filming of the introduction, food prep, chef banter, judging and local color commentary would take up the better part of eight hours.

He entered through the tent and quickly glanced around. Gillian had directed the housekeeping staff and the floral design team in reworking the ostentatious wedding arrangements into tablescapes more suitable for a wintertime dinner party. He made a mental note of one more talent she had up her sleeve and then made a beeline for the kitchen where the love of his life was laughing with the camera crew.

“They won’t let me send out for a box of Krispy Kreme.”

“Of course not, this is a food set.” Hunt nodded in understanding. “We’ll have retakes and leftovers all day long. They don’t want to spoil their appetites with doughnuts when there’s likely to be beef Wellington in the next hour.”

Gillian handed him a cup of coffee that he didn’t have time to drink, but he deposited his knives on his workstation and took a sip to show his appreciation for her thoughtfulness.

“I presume from that Cheshire Cat smile that you’re not even remotely nervous. The jitters have been gnawing at my insides since midnight,” she admitted.

“Oh, no, I’m not worried about today. This is gonna be nothin’ but fun,” Hunt assured Gillian. He began the ritual of unpacking and laying out the knives he would need for the day’s competition. They were his secret weapons, his tools of the trade. Then he pulled a fresh chef’s coat from his bag, slipped it over the T-shirt he’d worn beneath his jacket and buttoned it up.

“Chef, you look mighty handsome this morning.” Gillian’s eyes were shining.

“That means a lot coming from the prettiest girl at the party.” While the others in the kitchen watched, he slipped his arms around Gillian’s waist, pulled her close and captured her mouth. To the tune of whistles and catcalls, he gave her a sample of what was to come when the day was done. When the kiss ended, he kept his face close to hers for a private moment. “I should have asked permission for that public display of affection in your workplace, boss lady.”

“This is your kitchen, Chef. In here you call all the shots.”

“You make it awful hard for a man to want to work elsewhere.”

“That’s the plan. Now get busy and win one for Temple Territory.” With the help of her crutches, Gillian navigated past Robby’s crew and out of sight.

“Temple Territory?” he mused under his breath. “I don’t know if that was a mental relapse or a good luck charm, but either way, winning this one in the honorable name of Temple is just what I plan to do.”

The cooking was well underway when the crowd started to pour onto the property to be the local cast for the show. The impromptu party atmosphere could be felt everywhere. When filming moved outdoors among the townspeople, they took to the script like regulars. Puns about runaway brides and grooms with cold feet erupted spontaneously, making for great television.

Robby was an expert at ad-libbing before the cameras, and he became the choir director leading the rowdy bunch of Texans in a chorus of jokes. Not to be outdone, Gabe came up with one funny story after another as he cooked, making it impossible to determine where the truth ended and the yarn-spinning began.

Hunt kept his focus on the food and let the other chefs have the limelight. He’d gladly concede the popular vote as long as he took home the title for Temple Territory. Tonight, when the outdoor lights were turned up, Gillian would reveal her marquee and officially declare Moore House open for business. It was kind of her to let him have this last day in the kitchen while he could still think of it as Pap’s place.

A ruckus outside announced newcomers. There was applause, laughter, chatter and then quiet as muffled voices spoke to the crowd. Then the loudest applause of the day so far broke out, and Hunt sensed the stakes had just been raised. Was there a chance Rachel and Buzz had shown up after all? Or had the governor in Austin heard about the goings-on over in Kilgore and decided to get some face time before the television cameras?

A blond head bobbed in the doorway of the crowded kitchen, and then Hunt noticed James wearing a wide grin. Yep, there had been an important turn of events, and they were trying to share the news.

“
Entertainment News
is here,” somebody announced.

“It’s about time,” Robby and Gabe chorused without even looking up from their prep stations, never slowing from their work. “Who’d they send?”

“Some young correspondent,” a familiar voice explained as the person edged through the overcrowded room. “Some fellow who was hanging out in New Orleans, and offered to drive over and give a little class to this story.”

“Emilio, my friend!” Bobby called out. “I should have guessed it was you when the excitement outside didn’t last long.”

“Grab an apron, and we’ll teach you how to make gumbo,” Gabe taunted Emilio, a world-renowned chef from Louisiana.

Hunt hoped one day he’d earn the right to join in the irreverence that existed between these men. They were considered royalty, the “old-timers” in a television genre that had erupted in popularity during his adulthood.

Emilio laughed at their jabs. “We’ll see if you two have more to offer than talk after I’ve tasted your cooking.”

He examined a fingerling potato that Hunt had painstakingly turned. “Nice cuts,” Emilio complimented. “My money is on Team Temple.” He patted Hunt on the shoulder and the nerves he’d told Gillian he wasn’t feeling kicked into overdrive.

“Keep working, my friends, time is running out. There’s a hungry mob under that tent waiting on the hors d’oeuvres course as we speak, and I’m about to join them. Don’t disappoint us.”

Hunt remembered that the competition on the reality show had been stiff, but this was another level of stress entirely. What had he been thinking to bring these food megastars to East Texas to annihilate him before a home crowd that included his family and the woman he hoped to marry?

* * *

G
ILLIAN
HAD
BELIEVED
a celebrity wedding would be the perfect vehicle to put her hotel in the social spotlight. But what was going on within the confines of the property today had caused a bigger fuss and had brought more attention to the hotel than she could ever have imagined. And it was all thanks to the man who felt he’d let his family down by not making Pap Temple’s mansion his own while he had the chance.

Gillian sat at the head table with her parents and Hunt’s brothers to sample the meals the three incredible chefs had created. If it had been physically possible, she’d have kicked herself for not asking Hunt ahead of time about his menu, as the tasting was blind, the food served without the chefs in the room to present their meals. The diners would pick the winner without bias for their favorite celebrity chef.

Bless his heart, Emilio stepped up to act as the master of ceremonies as if he’d been invited for that purpose. He regaled the diners with stories of coming of age in television along with Robby and Gabe. He added how gratifying it was to welcome and mentor talented new chefs such as Hunt.

As evening fell, the food kept coming, and coming, and coming. One amazing dish after another was presented for tasting. The noisy diners became silent as they sampled and filled out the scorecards that were collected after each course.

“When those delivery trucks showed up, I figured we had enough food to feed Cox’s Army. But I never dreamed there was so much variety among the volume. Seafood, beef, pork, every vegetable known to mankind...” Meredith observed, her cheeks puffed out as if she might explode.

“It drives home the point that you don’t have to travel to Maine to enjoy fresh lobster or to California for the perfect wine pairing,” James pointed out. “Gillian, your restaurant will have all the visibility you hoped for and should stay booked solid between
Entertainment News
’s
immediate story and Robby’s show that will air sometime next year.”

“I haven’t had time to tell you, but they’re going to rush this episode through production, so it’ll air in the summer to give brides-to-be some new ideas on what to serve at their receptions.”

“And to give their fathers hope that the money won’t be all for naught if the couple changes their mind.” James raised a cheerful toast.

As if his raised glass was a cue, the lights dimmed, and the ceiling of the tent as well as the trees outside glowed to life with hundreds of thousands of tiny white lights. The setting was a perfect companion for the Texas night sky sprinkled with too many stars to count.

Emilio once again stepped to the microphone.

“And now for the pièce de résistance, dessert. No canceled wedding would be complete without a canceled wedding cake.”

He paused for laughter as three serving carts were wheeled out.

“For the final portion of the competition, we’re going to bend the rules a bit and let each chef share a personal story behind how he chose to reconstruct a layer of the bride’s cake.”

Robby told of the first trifle his mother had taught him to make, and how basic the ingredients had been but how he might never again eat anything as fulfilling as that arrangement of lady fingers made with his own hands. So he’d cut the wedding cake into bite-size pieces, soaked them in sherry, layered them over traditional English custard and topped them with berries and fresh whipping cream.

Gabe shared the story of the birth of his first son, and how, after many hours of labor and then a C-section, his wife was craving chocolate cake with fudge icing. The doctor hadn’t wanted her to eat such heavy food right after having surgery, so Guy had gone home and made a dark chocolate mousse with whipped milk chocolate topping and crushed Oreo cookie sprinkles. So for his dessert he’d taken the chocolate layer of the wedding cake, crumbled it into the food processor with whipped cream to create a thick mousse and topped it with crushed peppermint bark intended as gifts for the wedding guests.

Gillian’s hands were shaking for Hunt as he stood beside his cart waiting for his chance to speak. Instead of beginning when the spotlight was turned his way, he stepped out of the circle of attention and made his way toward the table where she sat with her parents.

“Please come with me,” he instructed as he stepped behind her chair and helped her stand. He walked slowly beside Gillian, his hand cupped beneath one elbow as she navigated the packed room on her crutches, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned this beforehand. It must have been an idea that occurred to him at the last minute.