The Cowboy's Lady

“Stimpy didn’t need help.”

“And he was fired because he was careless,” she retorted.

As were you.

She stifled the accusing thoughts. That was different.

Was it? Careless is careless.

“So why do you need help?”

She gestured around the kitchen. “I think this speaks for itself.” She felt tired just looking at all the work ahead of her.

“I’m sure it would be easier if you made simpler food.”

“Grilled cheese sandwiches is simple food.” The retort came out before she could stop it. “I thought I would give the men something tasty.”

“I don’t know how tasty they thought it was,” he said with a frown. “All I’ve heard was grumbling. Beans and biscuits would have been a better idea than what you dished up tonight.”

Each word was like a blow to her own self-worth. Had she really lost her touch? Was she really such a failure as a chef that she couldn’t even please cowboys?

“I said to keep it simple,” Cody continued.

She rolled her eyes. “What I made wasn’t that complicated.”

“Savory stuffing balls for hungry hands? Seriously?”

Her cheeks tightened at his mockery. “Sorry, I’ll try to dumb down the menu.” As soon as she spoke she realized how brusque that came out.

“It’s just food, Miss Clayton,” he retorted. “Fuel for the body.”

All her training and years of work rebelled against this blunt comment. “Food is more than that. It’s enjoyment. It’s one of life’s pleasures. It’s … it’s …” Her He r outrage at his ridiculous comment left her stumbling around trying to find how to explain how wrong he was.

“Food is calories,” he said, cutting into her explanation. “Just make sure you give my men enough calories to do their job.”

“Calories can still taste good.” Vivienne tried to keep the prim note out of her voice but could tell from his raised eyebrow she hadn’t succeeded. She realized she was butting against a brick wall. For now. “But I’ll still need help even if I’m dumbing down the menu.”

This netted her a heavy sigh. Cody ran his hand over his face and glanced around the cookhouse. “I can’t spare any of the hands. I suppose I could talk to Delores, Grady’s wife.”

Grady, she understood, was one of the few married men who lived in a rented house on the ranch. “Delores has made it pretty clear she’s not stepping foot in the kitchen again,” Vivienne stated. “Which leaves me with Bonnie.”

Cody’s eyes narrowed. Why did it bother him so much?

“I know you don’t like having Bonnie help,” Vivienne continued, “but I also know she’s bored … and bored teenage girls get into trouble. Especially when there’s a couple of young men on the ranch.”

Cody glared at her, but she could tell he was wavering.

“Bryce knows better than to get near my sister, and Cade is engaged to Jasmine Turner,” he said.

“Cade Clayton is a grandson of Samuel Clayton,” Vivienne said sharply. “I know my family thinks he’s a good kid, but I don’t know him well enough to form a positive opinion.”

The history of the Claytons was checkered with double-dealings and backstabbings. A person didn’t have to go too far into the family tree to find the source.

According to Cade’s relatives, her grandfather, George Clayton, had swindled land and money and stolen the woman he’d loved from his brother, Samuel Clayton. Those half-truths and lies had been perpetuated by Samuel’s children and grandchildren. As a result, Vivienne’s side of the family, through George Senior, was hated by Samuel Clayton’s side of the family.

One of whom was Cade. Cade’s own cousins had been behind a string of problems that had dogged her family since Grandpa George’s funeral and will. Had Cade been able to keep himself above the invective spoon-fed to each of his relatives on the Samuel Clayton side of the family? As she had told Cody, Brooke and Zach seemed to like Cade but she still struggled with who he was related to. Les, Vincent, Marsha and the rest never had anything good to say about Vivienne or her family members.

“You Claytons and your family feuds,” Cody said in a voice that clearly expressed his opinion. “I don’t care who did what when, but I trust Cade Clayton.” Then he gave her a cool look she could only assume meant he didn’t trust her. “And as for my sister, I’m not crazy about her working with you, but I agree that she needs to stay out of trouble.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “She can help you in the kitchen once in a while and only when she doesn’t have too much homework, but I want you to know I’ll be watching you.”

“Watching me for what?” Vivienne couldn’t stop the words that burst out of her.

“Bonnie is easily influenced,” Cody said, his voice growing grim. “And she wants like crazy to get away from the ranch. And I know you think Clayton is some hick town and you’ll be leaving as soon as you can.” He stopped there and then waved his hand between them as if to erase what he just said. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. What you do is none of my business.”

Vivienne felt a confusing mixture of anger and shame at his comments. Yes, she was only staying around long enough for the money, and why shouldn’t she? Clayton held nothing for her.

But at the same time, his opinion of her bothered her on a level she didn’t want to examine too hard.

Then he looked around the kitchen again, shaking his head. “For now, I guess you’ll have to clean this up yourself.”

She wanted to make a comment but felt enough had been said for now. Tomorrow was another day.

“One more thing,” he said, dropping his hat on his head. “In the next day or so I’d like to sit down with you and figure out a menu.”

Her back stiffened at his suggestion. “I think I can figure things out for myself.”

“Savory stuffing balls?”

“We covered that,” Vivienne said, struggling to keep her wounded pride in check.

She had to believe the stuffing balls and the game hens were done to perfection. Considering what she had to work with, she thought she had done quite well. So what had gone so badly wrong that the men were so upset? Was she really as bad a cook as her former boss had accused her of being?

Her confidence wavered again, but she held his gaze. “I’ll probably be up before you in the morning. What would you suggest I make for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs. Porridge. I don’t care. Keep it simple and keep it edible.”

There went her plan of Belgian buttermilk waffles with glazed bananas. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

“Just remember that,” Cody shot back. Then he shook his head and turned to leave.

“You didn’t get your dinner,” she called out, picking up the plate of food she had made up. She wanted him to see for himself what the men had been complaining about. Wanted to find out from him what he thought.

He glanced down at the proffered plate. “Sorry. I’m not hungry.”

Don’t take it personally, she reminded herself as she turned away from him. Maybe he’s really not hungry.

But she couldn’t help feeling that when he rejected her food, he was rejecting her.

Why do you care? After all … he’s a cowboy. You’re a city girl.