The Chef's Mail Order Bride: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 1) (8 page)

S
he gave
Suzanne an extra tight hug as they said their goodbyes on the porch. It wasn’t far to their house from Suzanne and James’s, so they’d just walked in front of the horses, Tripp leading them behind.

They walked in silence, Sadie not sure what to talk about after their interesting day…and her conversation with Suzanne. She’d had no idea that her attraction to Tripp was so obvious, and she didn’t want to embarrass him any further. But she wasn’t quite ready to let the day end, although her mind kept telling her that she should just leave well enough alone.

“It’s a little chilly, don’t you think?” Sadie said as the arrived at the house.

Sadie had just pulled her wrap more tightly around her shoulders against the chill and she wondered if he’d noticed.

His head jerked toward her, as if he’d been deep in thought.

“Yes, it is,” he said. She wondered if he’d noticed her at all.

“Would you care for a little hot chocolate before bed?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at her in the moonlight, his hand tightening around the reins. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Yes, that would be nice. I’ll go put the horses and buggy away and be right in.”

She felt his gaze on her—or at least she thought she did—as he waited for her to close the door behind her. She hung her wrap, hat and gloves on the rack by the door and grabbed her blue apron, pulling it over her head and tying it behind her.

She sat on the kitchen stool while the milk heated, drumming her fingers on the counter as her chin rested in her hand.
I don’t know what I’m even hoping for
, she though as she got up to stir the milk so it wouldn’t scald.

She added a bit of the chocolate powder she’d saved precious room in her suitcase for when she’d come from Chicago. She hadn’t yet made any, and she added a little sugar while she finished stirring the mugs and set the spoon down, hoping Tripp would like it.

Setting the mugs on a tray along with two biscuits she’d made and fresh butter, she headed into the parlor, stopping short as she rounded the corner. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Tripp, his back to her as he blew on the logs he’d placed in the fireplace and fanned it with his hand at the same time.

The light of the fire almost made his brown hair glow, and as he’d removed his coat, she could see the muscles of his back move against his shirt.

She stood for a moment, watching him and wondering if this is what he’d done on the trail, getting the fire ready to cook with and take care of his men.

Although she set the tray down quietly on the small table, he started and turned, his green eyes also lit by the fire as he looked from her to the tray, smiling.

“I thought you might like a fire,” he said as he looked away and down at the flames.

She picked up a mug of chocolate and carried it over to him, her heart skipping a beat as his hand brushed hers while he took it. He looked up as skin touched skin and backed away, sipping the hot chocolate and letting out an admiring sigh.

“This is wonderful,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the warm mug. “I haven’t had this since I left New York.”

Her tension eased as she turned and picked up her own mug, sipping it and settling down into a chair by the fire, watching him as he sat on the hearth.

He set his mug on the small table beside the chair and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and staring in front of him.

Sadie sat quietly, looking into the fire, unsure of what to say. She’d tried flirting, laughing, teasing, being serious, all in one day, and felt fresh out of ideas to catch his attention. She’d just decided to give up when he looked from the ground to her, catching her gaze.

“You have beautiful blue eyes,” he said, before looking back down.

She smiled, her heart lifting a bit.

“Thank you,” she said, her brows rising in surprise that he’d noticed anything about her.

“You and Suzanne look very much alike. Her hair is beautiful,” he said, turning toward her. “I imagine yours is, too.”

His head cocked to one side as he looked at her.

Her hand flew to her bun, remembering what Suzanne had said about wearing her hair down. She smiled at the compliment and put another small stray curl back into a pin at the base of her neck.

“Thank you,” she said as her cheeks heated. “I am not in the habit of wearing it down, though, like she is.”

“Why not?” he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off of her.

Flustered under his gaze, she tried to lighten the mood. She’d thought she’d wanted his attention, but now that she had it, she wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“I was rather young when I first started working in my parents’ bakery. They’d taken Suzanne and me with them when we’d caused a little too much trouble at home without them and they needed to keep their eye on us.” She looked from the fire to him.

“I can imagine you two were a handful if you were anything like Lucy and Lily,” he said, laughing.

She took a deep breath and continued, glad she’d re-directed the conversation.

“One of the first jobs we had was decorating Christmas cookies for a very wealthy client. She was a good client of my parents’, and she had said she was fine with us experimenting on some of her cookies as it was to be a children’s party.”

“I bet those cookies turned out interestingly,” he said, picking up his mug and taking another sip.

Sadie laughed. “Yes, they did. I’m not sure that they resembled anything Christmas-related, but we had fun. And the customer was pleased with them, so my parents were happy.”

“So, what does this have to do with you keeping your hair up?”

She set down her empty mug and sighed.

“The customer came back the next day and presented my father with a small, silk bag. When she opened it, it had several long blonde strands of hair in it that had been in the box. Not the cookies, but the box. She graciously thanked him for the cookies and asked him if next time, he’d leave out the special ingredient.”

“Oh, my,” he said, his smile wide.

“Oh, my, indeed. Suzanne and I were both horrified—as was my mother—but my father just laughed it off. The next day, though, he handed us both pins and caps and made us wear them forever more,” she said, her head shaking at the memory. “And I continued, as I stayed. I imagine Suzanne started wearing hers down when she left the bakery for Arizona.”

She imagined that Tripp, being a fellow cook, could appreciate the horror she’d felt, and it was clear he did, although he seemed to think it was pretty funny. She couldn’t help but smile as he continued to chuckle.

“I’m glad you think it’s amusing, and I guess it sort of is. But it sure wasn’t at the time, and I’ve worn my hair up ever since. And my apron, pretty much, so my dress isn’t white, covered with flour.”

She lifted up her apron and played with the hem while she spoke. “And it’s my lucky apron,” she said, her voice lower.

He regarded her for a moment, cocking his head to the side, and she thought he was incredibly handsome by the firelight. So much so that she looked away.

“I’d sure like to know why it’s your lucky apron, Sadie,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees again.

She shook her head, and with a twinkle in her eye, she said, “Not on your life, Mr. Morgan. Not until you tell me why you left the trail. And went to New York.”

Her eyebrows rose, her mouth firmly shut—but it was all she could do to hold back a smile, trying to ignore that thought about staying out of trouble. Not pushing.

He turned to the fire again, his look of surprise hidden as he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

“Fair enough, Sadie. Fair enough.”

He stood, reaching for her mug and placed it on the tray with his.

As he passed her, he stopped and said, “Thank you for the lovely day—and interesting evening. Shall I put out the fire?”

“No, I’ll do it before I retire. I’m not quite ready,” she said, staring at the beautiful flames that looked to her a bit like the sunset they’d seen together earlier.

She sat as she heard him climb the stairs and close his bedroom door behind him. She laid her head back in her chair, wondering just what it would take to get this man to open up to her. Trust her.

Walking to the fireplace, she stirred the fading embers until she was sure there was no more flame, placed the grate securely in front of it and headed toward the stairs herself.

Maybe tomorrow. At the restaurant. I can show him how much help I can be,
she thought as she slowly climbed the stairs, ready for bed and a fresh start tomorrow.

S
adie had once again told
Tripp that she wanted to go in early to prep. What she really meant was bake, though, as after the previous day’s events, she really needed to work out some nervous energy. After her talk with Suzanne, she couldn’t ignore any longer her growing feelings for Tripp. And since it was just a business arrangement to him, there was nothing to do but…bake.

As she made another batch of meat pies to use up the cooked roast pork from the restaurant’s debut, she thought about the restaurant’s opening later this evening and breathed a sigh of relief that Suzanne would be there to help again. Her stomach fluttered with nerves every time she thought of it. She knew how much it meant to Tripp that this restaurant be successful, and she wanted that for him…for both of them.

She’d made a double batch of meat pies, two different kinds, and had laid them on the counter to cool when she heard a knock at the door. She was wary for a moment as it was still very early in the morning, but she remembered Mr. Lewis and thought it might be him.

Opening the door, she smiled at the sight of him, his hat in his hands.

“Hello, Mrs. Morgan. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lewis. Nice to see you, as well,” she said, wiping her hands on her lucky apron. “How are you today?” she asked as she ushered him into the warm kitchen.

“I’m just fine, and I came by to thank you for the meat pies you passed along the other day. They must have been lucky, because I got hired on at the mine.”

She clapped her hands together as she cried, “That’s wonderful, Mr. Lewis. I’m so happy for you.”

Color crept up into his cheeks as he looked down. “I think it was the luck of the pies, ma’am. I shared them with some of the other miners and they sure did like ‘em. In fact, asked if I could get more.”

Her eyebrows rose as she surveyed the man before her. She’d given him the meat pies out of kindness, just because she’d wanted to, and her heart swelled with happiness that he’d shared them with others. And was surprised that they’d liked them.

“Well, that’s wonderful news, Mr. Lewis. And perfect timing. I just baked two more batches and really had no plans for them. Would you like to take them to the mine with you?”

His face lit up as he eyed the pies and turned back to her. “I was hoping you’d say that, ma’am, but I also wanted to mention that they’d like to have them regular like. And pay for them.”

She sat so hard on the kitchen stool that her breath came out in a whoosh. Her hand rested on her chest as the compliment sank in and her mind raced with thoughts of how to accommodate his request.

“Mr. Lewis, that is awfully nice of you. I’m glad that they are being enjoyed. But I really do it just because it relaxes me. I’d not considered selling them.”

She stood and grabbed an empty crate out of the pantry, a sturdy one with handles, and began wrapping the pastries. As she placed the last one in the box, she turned to Mr. Lewis and said, “Take these, Mr. Lewis, and I’ll think about it. My husband and I are opening the restaurant tonight, and I think that the menu will please your friends. I hope to see some of you in the dining room.”

Mr. Lewis picked up the crate and headed out the door, tipping his hat at Sadie as he thanked her once again for her kindness.

As Sadie closed the door behind him, she wondered if she could…or should…accommodate Mr. Lewis’s request. It wasn’t about money for her. She also loved to make people happy with her cooking, just like Tripp. She decided to see how the night went, maybe see what he thought about this idea.

She glanced at the clock, realizing that Tripp would be there soon and set to cleaning up after herself, leaving that decision for another time.

S
he’d put
Mr. Lewis and the meat pies to the back of her mind as she raced around Tripp, cutting, chopping, cleaning, fetching, anything he needed. She could tell he was nervous—and who wouldn’t be? It was a night he’d been preparing—and waiting for—for a very long time.

After she’d chopped all of the onions, garlic and other vegetables he’d asked for, she said, “Is this everything that you need?”

His nose was in a steaming pot as he inhaled deeply, smiling at his creation. A flood of warmth washed over her as she watched him in his element. She was glad the he was happy, but she wanted to be more helpful than just in prepping.

What was that he’d called her? Sous chef?

“Tripp,” she said again, feeling it, too, when he stood quickly, bumping his head on the pots and pans.

“I guess we forgot to move those pans,” she said as she looked down and smoothed her apron.

“Yes, we did,” he said, turning back to whatever was simmering in the pot.

“I’m done with what you asked me to do. Can I help with what you’re doing?”

He blinked a few times at her, his mouth open. “What?”

“I said I’m done with all of your prep work and it’s all laid out in the icebox for you and I’d like to help with what you’re doing.” She started toward the stove and he took a step back.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, setting down the jar of basil that he had in his hand.

“Why not?” she said. “I think I could be helpful. I know how to cook.”

He looked from the pot to her and back to the pot. “Well, yes, you know how to cook.”

“And?” she said, her hands on her hips now, feeling the heat rise in her chest—and not the pleasant kind of heat as she’d felt the day before.

“Sadie, you have to understand. This cooking is different than what you do. It takes a different…a great deal of…”

He turned away, smiling at her apologetically before he did, and put the spoon back in the pot. As he lifted a taste to his mouth, he closed his eyes and smiled. “Perfect.”

Just as she grabbed a pan and lifted it to clobber him and make his bump bigger, she felt it pulled out of her hand and heard Suzanne say, “Tripp, Sadie and I are going to fold napkins and set the tables,” as she grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the dining room.

Suzanne grabbed her shoulders and sat her down in a chair so hard that Sadie let out a big whoosh of air.

“What was that about?” Suzanne said as she paced around the table.

“I’m just a little aggravated,” Sadie said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Suzanne stopped pacing and mimicked her gesture, folding her own arms over her chest while she glared at her.

After she’d sighed, put her elbows on the table and dropped her chin into her hands, Sadie said, “He won’t let me do anything. He thinks I can’t cook.”

“That’s not true, Sadie. He thinks you’re a good cook,” Suzanne said, sitting beside her.

“No, he doesn’t. He thinks I can cook, maybe, but a ‘chef’ is something different. I’m good enough to bake biscuits but not to touch his Fricassee.” She fiddled with the hem of one of the linen napkins on the table as her sister stared at her.

“Is that what this is all about? That he won’t let you help?”

“I guess so. I’d thought when you called for me that I’d be able to really do some good. I am glad I can help with the biscuits and bread, but I wanted to…I don’t know, really help. Not just be a…” She hesitated and started smoothing out the napkin that was now twisted into a ball.

“A what?” Suzanne said, falling silent as she waited for a response.

“A helper, I suppose,” Sadie said quietly.

Suzanne reached out and pulled Sadie’s chin toward her, looking her in the eye. “You know as well as I do, sister, that these things take time. This is what he’s been working toward for over a year. He
has
included you. He
does
think you’re a good cook, but this is what he’s been trained to do. Please don’t take it personally,” she said, placing her hand on Sadie’s.

“I know you’re right, Suzanne. But I’ve realized that I like him, and I want to be…I want him to…”

“Like you? Think you’re valuable? Believe me, Sadie, he does. We’re just right in the thick of things, opening tonight. I know I said this already, but give it time.”

Sadie squeezed Suzanne’s hand and dabbed her eyes with the napkin she’d been twisting.

“Thanks, sister. I feel a little silly now. But one good thing did happen today,” she said, focusing on the task at hand. She picked up a stack of fresh napkins and started folding them, and Suzanne did the same.

She quickly told her sister about Mr. Lewis, the meat pies and his request for more for the miners. When she got to the part about his offering to pay, Suzanne stopped folding, her napkin in mid-air.

“Really? I know they’re good, but they want to buy them?” she said, her eyes wide as she watched Sadie continue to fold.

“Yes, really. See? Somebody likes what I do.” She plopped another folded napkin onto the pile in front of her.

Suzanne laughed and continued folding. “Everybody likes what you do. You’re comparing apples and oranges, Sadie, and you need to stop. Pull your lip back in. Pouting is unbecoming.”

Sadie did as she was told with a laugh. “All right.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Sadie stole a quick glance at the door to the kitchen. “I told him I had to think about it.”

Her sister followed her gaze to the door, her mouth falling open. “And you haven’t told Tripp?”

“Shhh. No, I haven’t, and I don’t intend to just yet. I just use up the leftover meat from the night before, and we have bags and bags of flour and plenty of yeast. And enough onions to last until Christmas. Honestly, if I don’t use it up, the mice might get to it before we do.”

Suzanne looked at Sadie out of the corner of her eye, a smile pulling at her lips. “I don’t know about that, Sadie. I think you should tell him.”

“Why? So he can tell me that I shouldn’t do it? That I should stick to biscuits? No, thank you. And, in fact, I think I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to do it.”

Suzanne shook her head slowly as Sadie stood, carrying the folded napkins and setting them on the bar.

“Good luck, Sadie. I sure hope it doesn’t go badly for you.”

Sadie put her hands on her hips and looked from the door back to her sister. “It won’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“I hope you’re right, sister. I hope you’re right.”