Currant Creek Valley (4 page)

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
NEXT
NIGHT
, T
HURSDAY
, Alex escaped to the employee restroom after her shift and quickly changed out of her white jacket and black slacks to jeans and a tailored soft green shirt. She added a chunky hammered silver necklace she had made a few months ago and a matching pair of earrings and bracelet.

Much to her dismay, she had spent hours before her shift trying to figure out what to wear for her little outing with Sam. Discarded clothes were still strewn all over every flat surface of her bedroom.

She wanted to set just the right tone for the way she had decided the evening should proceed. She would be friendly and fun but completely casual. No more of that high-octane flirting from the other day.

She couldn’t deny she was fiercely attracted to Sam. He was big, gorgeous, tough...but he was also building the kitchen of her dreams. She couldn’t afford to screw this up.

Earlier that day she had stopped in at Brazen to check things out and had been astonished at the progress he and his crew had made in just a single morning of work. They already had one whole section of cabinets installed and had been close to finishing another.

A gruff guy named Joe—who hadn’t met her gaze more than a millisecond when she talked to him, and who had only said three or four words at a time—told her Sam had been out picking up a few things at the building supply store.

She tried to convince herself she wasn’t at all disappointed to miss him but she recognized that for a lie. She
had
been disappointed, seriously bummed, which was when she had decided she needed to think twice about entangling herself with him.

Any man who could make her react like a teenager driving by her crush’s house a half-dozen times a day spelled trouble.

The door opened and Lucy Martineau, the pastry chef, walked in and headed for the open stall. “You look great. Hot date?”

“No. Not a date,” she was quick to assure her friend. “I’m just meeting somebody at the Lizard for drinks and some pool.”

“Anybody I know?” Lucy asked. “Stupid question. Of course he wouldn’t be. Let me guess. Is he in town on business or fun?”

Mascara wand in hand, she paused her quick makeup job long enough to make a face in the mirror at Lucy, who was washing her hands at the other sink.

“Very funny.”

“Which is it? You know you never date anybody longer than a few weeks, Alex.”

“Not true,” she protested.

“Isn’t it?”

“I went out with that musician for nearly a month, until his gig up at the lodge ended.”

“I forgot about him.”

So had Alex, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Lucy. “It’s easier to date somebody who’s moving on anyway. We both know where things stand from the outset and nobody develops unrealistic expectations. It’s cleaner, all the way around.”

“If you say so.” Lucy looked doubtful, but then, she had been married for a decade. “So who’s the guy?”

She didn’t want to answer but since others would probably see them together at The Speckled Lizard, she didn’t see any reason to lie. “He’s the contractor finishing up the remodel at Brazen. Our relationship is strictly professional. I figured I would introduce him around, help him feel welcome here, that sort of thing. I figure if he’s happy during his stay in Hope’s Crossing, he’ll be more motivated to make sure he does a good job on my kitchen.”

Lucy didn’t lose her skeptical expression. Alex couldn’t really blame her since it all sounded like a load of manure to her, as well.

“Well, have a good time.”

“I intend to.” Even if that meant backing away from the flirty fun of the day before, she thought with a sigh.

To her amazement, she quickly found a parking place right by The Speckled Lizard. This was a happening spot from December to March, jam-packed with skiers and boarders looking for somewhere to relax after a hard day on the slopes. The bar served generous drinks and usually had live music on the weekends.

During the summer months, it wasn’t quite as busy but still did a lively business, both tourists and regulars. They grilled a mean burger out on the patio in warm weather and it was always a fun place to meet up with friends.

Like many establishments in town, the shoulder seasons—April to early June and then September to mid-November—belonged to the locals.

She was early and didn’t see any sign of Sam Delgado, of the broad shoulders and warm dark eyes. She waved to Mike from the bike shop in town, who was sitting with Cathy and Jonah Kent, both paramedics.

She always hated sitting by herself at the bar and was about to ask if they minded if she joined them while she waited when someone walked right in her path.

“Hey, there, Alex.”

She gave a mental cringe. “Hi, Corey.”

He had a tumbler of what looked like whiskey in his hand and a bleary-eyed look that indicated it wasn’t his first of the night. No surprise there.

“You look fantastic,” he said, stumbling a little over the adjective as he threw an arm around her shoulder.

Her mental cringe turned into an actual one but Corey Johnson didn’t seem to notice. He never did. To Corey, the three dates they went on in high school twenty years ago apparently left him feeling entitled to paw at her whenever he wanted.

“Pat, bring the lady a drink. My treat.” He beamed at her as if he were bestowing a huge honor and she squirmed a little more.

How was she going to play this? Being firm was generally not a problem for her but she had to admit, she felt a little sorry for Corey. About six months ago, he had lost his job as a mortgage loan officer because of the struggling economy and hadn’t been able to find anything since.

Though he’d been scrambling to make ends meet and the family had even had a few visits from the Angel of Hope—the mysterious anonymous benefactor who went around town doing good deeds—his wife had finally tired of their ride to Nowheresville and had taken their kids to Grand Junction to stay with her mother.

Things weren’t going all that great for old Corey, but that didn’t mean she was willing to be his consolation prize. He was still married. Even if he wasn’t, she hadn’t been interested enough in anything but a handful of dates in high school and she was less interested now.

“I’m good, Pat. I’m just having mineral water tonight,” she told the bartender, who lived down the road from her.

“Oh, come on.” Corey leaned in close and the blast of liquor on his breath seared her nasal passages. “You need something more than that after a hard day.”

“No, really. Mineral water is enough.”

“You’re no fun anymore, Al. You used to be fun.”

“I’m still fun. I’ve just never needed alcohol to get me there.” She forced a smile, which in retrospect was a bad idea. Corey took that as encouragement.

“What do you say you and me go out back and see just how much fun we can have together?”

Eww. Seriously? She tried to edge away but Corey had won second place in the state wrestling championship for his weight class their senior year and still had a pretty darn good half nelson.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to pass on that charming offer,” she said firmly.

“Come on. We can just make out, if you want.”

The very thought made her glad she hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime. “No, thanks. Let go, Core.”

Instead, he tightened his grip and leaned his head down to her ear and whispered a filthy suggestion. She decided she didn’t have any sympathy left for Corey and hoped like hell his wife had taken every penny of whatever the Angel of Hope had given the family when she made her way out of Dodge.

“Let go. Now,” she said firmly but Corey ignored her.

Nobody else at the bar seemed to have noticed her predicament, probably assuming it was just a warm chat between old friends. She was trying to figure out whether he would even feel a sharp elbow shoved into his slight beer belly or if she would have to knee him hard where it counted when another voice intruded.

“The lady said no, I believe.”

She shifted her gaze and knew she shouldn’t be so glad to see Sam Delgado standing next to them in all his rough-edged, ex-Army Ranger glory.

She totally had this and didn’t need rescuing, but it was still really, really nice of Sam to step in.

Corey turned his red-rimmed eyes in Sam’s direction. “Mind your own business, asshole,” he slurred.

Sam’s expression didn’t change. She might have thought it almost apologetic, if she didn’t glimpse the hard steel in those dark eyes.

“Technically, this is my business. I’m afraid Ms. McKnight is my date.”

Something in Sam’s tone, his massive size or his deceptively casual stance seemed to pierce Corey’s alcoholic stupor. It was fascinating to watch his bluster trickle away like beer out of a cracked bottle.

He pulled his arm away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything. Alex and I are old friends, aren’t we, Al?”

She said nothing but Corey didn’t seem to need a response—or maybe was grateful she didn’t offer one.

“Talk to you later,” he mumbled and ambled away with his drink.

Not the most auspicious beginning for their evening together. How was she supposed to put things back on a fun, casual footing now after he rescued her from being pawed by a drunk and disorderly high school classmate?

“Sorry I’m late,” Sam said. He didn’t offer any explanation other than that and she had the odd feeling he was troubled about something.

“No problem. You’re here now. That’s the important thing.”

Oops. That came out more flirtatious than she intended. Apparently it was a hard habit to break.

He looked around The Speckled Lizard, with its high tin-stamped ceilings, the long, gleaming bar and the dark-paneled woodwork carved in elaborate designs.

“Any chance the grill is still open? I haven’t had time for dinner.”

The nurturer in her wanted to take him home and cook something delicious for him, but that sort of offer would almost certainly be misconstrued.

She was hungry, too, she suddenly realized. One of life’s little ironies, that she spent all night cooking for others and sometimes didn’t take time to eat, herself.

She glanced at the clock. “The grill here stays open for ten more minutes. I happen to know the cook, though, and I bet we can persuade her to keep it warm a bit longer. They have really excellent burgers. You can have beef, bison or beefalo if you want.”

“Beefalo? Is that anything like a jackalope?”

She laughed. “Nope. Cross between bison and beef. It’s actually quite good.”

“Think I’ll stick with beef, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Give me a couple minutes and I’ll get you fixed up.”

She headed back to the kitchen, waving to Pat as she went, then found the irascible Francesca Beltran in the small galley kitchen, all three-hundred pounds of her.

“Hey, Frankie.”

“What you doing in my kitchen, baby girl?” She was so round, her only wrinkles were around her eyes.

Alex grinned. “Got me a friend who’s hungry. I know you’re probably ready to wrap things up. Any chance you’d let me throw on an apron and burn us up a couple burgers?”

She narrowed raisin-black eyes. “I was just about to clean the grill.”

“He’s really hungry, Frank. Come on. Please? He’s been working hard all day building my kitchen at the new restaurant. If I can’t cook for him here, I’ll have to take him to my place to feed him and who knows what will happen then? I can’t do that. You know I’m a nice girl.”

Frankie’s deep, full-bodied laugh always made her smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Make it fast.”

She grinned and kissed the woman’s cheek, threw a spare apron over her clothes, washed her hands and went to work.

Ten minutes later, the result was two perfectly cooked burgers, spiced just right and the buns toasted. Frankie deigned to drag them through the garden for her—one of her favorite diner slang terms for topping it with condiments—and even added some of The Speckled Lizard’s signature crisp, fresh-cut fries.

She carried them out and found Sam sitting at a quiet booth, a bottle of one of the local brews open in front of him.

“Sorry about the wait. I had to sweet-talk the cook. She can be a little territorial about her grill.”

“You cooked this?”

She knew she shouldn’t find such satisfaction from the surprise and, yes, delight in his eyes. “Frankie’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I have my own preference when it comes to my burgers.”

“I really didn’t mean to put you to work.”

She slid into the booth across from him and picked up her napkin. “I was hungry, too, as you can see. Anyway, I like to feed people. It’s kind of a thing with me.”

As a relatively self-aware woman, she didn’t need months of psychotherapy to explore the reason. When she was a girl, she had loved cooking for her whole family but especially for her dad. As the youngest girl, she had been the proverbial apple of her father’s eye. They had bonded over grilled cheese sandwiches and pancakes at first and as she’d gotten older, she had expanded her repertoire and tried new things, always to gratifying raves from her father.

She had figured out a long time ago that she was compelled to feed people in some vain hope of making them love her enough to stay this time.

Not that she wanted Sam Delgado to stay anywhere. Sometimes a meal was simply a meal, right?

He took a bite of the burger and an expression of pure bliss crossed those rugged features. “I do believe that just might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

She laughed, pushing away all thoughts of her childhood. “Oh, you poor man. If that’s the case, I have so much to teach you.”

The burger
was
good, she had to admit, with the bun toasted just right, the flavors of meat and good sauce harmonizing together perfectly.

He took a few more bites, concentrating all his attention to the meal. She didn’t mind. She did love a man who knew how to enjoy his food.

Finally he set the second half of the burger down as if he wanted to prolong the pleasure and wiped at his mouth. “So, Alexandra, what do you do in Hope’s Crossing besides cook very delicious burgers?”