He opened the door for Gretchen, but she didn’t climb into the truck right away. “He’s been goin’ out with Shay a lot, and he was tired himself. So I went to help, and once we got Mama on the couch and Daddy frying eggs and potatoes, we went and got the chores done.”

  “There’s some work that never ends, isn’t there?” She looked at him with kindness shining in her eyes, and Will really needed someone to be kind to him right now.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry about Sunday. I know I said I was going to try to take breaks and whatnot. Farm life is just so…unpredictable.”

  “So are sick parents,” Gretchen said. “I understand, Will. Don’t worry about it.” She got in the truck then, and Will went to get behind the wheel. She directed him to the farm where they’d be having dinner, and Will knew the moment he turned down the dirt road that he’d feel right at home.

  “This is incredible,” he said, gazing at the dormant fields that had obviously been taken care of. “She’s got stuff in some of these.”

  “She has a greenhouse,” Gretchen said, a hint of pride in her tone. “She starts a ton of stuff inside in the winter and moves it into the fields later. Sometimes she harvests right from the greenhouse.”

  “Fascinating,” he said. There was no fancy sign directing people where to turn or where to park. They weren’t the first people to arrive, so it was pretty dang easy to turn into the next parking spot in the dirt field with a pink house in the background. It had a purple door and a lot of white trim around the windows and roof. It felt like the kind of house or cabin that Will would like to spend time in, and he grinned through the windshield at it.

  “I told you you’d like this place,” Gretchen said, and he switched his gaze to her.

  “You sound so sure of yourself,” he said. “I don’t like frou-frou food.”

  “You and the rest of the cowboys in Texas,” Gretchen said, rolling her eyes. “And yet, this place is booked out weeks in advance, and look, there’s a cowboy going in right now.” She unbuckled and added, “Come on, Will. We really don’t want to be late. Ingrid serves appetizers, and I’ve never had one I didn’t want to eat an entire tray of.”

  Will chuckled as he got out of the truck, and his smile remained in place as they followed the other couple toward The Culinary Cabin. A wrought-iron patio set sat out front, but they obviously wouldn’t be eating there.

  Gretchen led him up the steps to the porch, and Will’s chest felt like someone had suddenly thumped on it with their fist. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d find behind that door.

  But he couldn’t wait to find out, and he stepped with Gretchen, his hand in hers as tight as it had ever been.

  12

  Gretchen’s excitement continued to rise as Will opened the door for her, and she stepped into The Culinary Cabin. The smell of rich, dark coffee hit her nose, and then someone said, “Welcome to The Culinary Cabin. We have two appetizers tonight. A fresh salmon kabob with a dill-lemon sauce or a short rib Gorgonzola bite.”

  “Wow,” Will said, gazing up at the ceiling. Gretchen felt like that too, and she looked up at the vaulted ceiling—original to the house—and the ornate chandelier hanging there.

  Giddiness pranced through her, because she’d wanted Will to like The Cabin as much as she did. “We’ll have both, please,” she said when it became obvious Will was going to gaze and not gab. She tugged on his hand to get him to move out of the doorway as another couple entered, and they stopped at a chest-high table without chairs.

  “So they bring around appetizers in here,” she said. “It’s kind of like a museum. There’s the history of Sweet Water Falls, some art by local artists. That chandelier was made by a Sweet Water Falls native named Vincent Gusteau, and I guess he died really young.”

  “This is incredible,” Will said. “Not what I was expecting, but amazing.”

  “Coffee? Water?” a woman asked, and Will opted for water.

  “For me too, please,” Gretchen said. Once she’d left, she continued with, “Then we’ll go out to the tables. You can see the farm better from out there. They’ll serve the meal out there, and Ingrid herself comes out and goes through the menu. Then everyone gets served, and we can wander the farm for a little bit.”

  “It’s almost dark,” he said.

  “They have some lights,” she said. “But yeah, you won’t be able to see as much as you do in the summer.”

  He beamed at her. “We’ll have to come back in the summer.”

  Gretchen warmed from toes to throat, because if Will wanted to come back in the summer, that meant he saw them together in six months. “Sure,” she said, the word barely making it out of her narrow throat. She wasn’t even sure why she was so pleased, only that she was.

  “Salmon and short rib,” a man said, and she shifted so he could put the plates on the table. Everything was bite-sized and easily popped into a mouth, and Gretchen reached for a salmon kabob. A piece of fish sat on the bottom and the top, with a blistered cherry tomato sandwiched between them.

  “Do you like fish?” she asked Will.

  “I do if it’s like this.” He picked up a kabob too, and said, “Three, two, one.” He stuck his kabob in his mouth, and Gretchen did the same.

  It was too much for her to have both bites of salmon, though she tried. She ended up giggling as Will grinned at her. “I win,” he said. “I got all mine in one bite.”

  She shook her head and finished chewing in as ladylike of a fashion as she could. “It’s not a contest, cowboy.”

  “It was real good,” he said. “I liked that.” He looked at the short rib. “Is this blue cheese?”

  “Gorgonzola,” Gretchen said, popping the last bite of salmon into her mouth. “I love this dill sauce.”

  Will grinned at her. “Yeah, it’s on your blouse there.”

  Gretchen looked down, embarrassment streaming through her when she saw the glob of white sauce on her blouse. She quickly wiped it away and licked her finger. It sure seemed like she and Will were going to learn how to be comfortable with one another even when bad things happened, and she decided everyone spilled on themselves sometimes.

  “Holy dairy cows,” Will said with a moan. “I need five more of these.”

  “They’ll bring more,” Gretchen said, turning to find a waiter. She caught one’s eye and raised her hand. He nodded, and she looked at Will again. “So, I saw you with a guitar last week. Do you play?”

  “Hardly,” he said, dusting his hands and reaching for a napkin. “A little. My granddad taught all of us, Cherry and Clarissa too. Lee’s the real star with the guitar.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling at her. “Trav and I just pluck around on chords.”

  “What about your sisters?”

  “Cherry quit when she was ten or eleven,” Will said. “She did piano for ages though. Rissa played longer, but I don’t know that she’s done anything with it since she went to culinary school.”

  Gretchen nodded and made room for another round of appetizers.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Hobbies?”

  “Hobbies?” she repeated. “Who has time for hobbies?”

  He chuckled and bobbed his head. “Tell me about it.”

  “My shop and my daddy take all my time and energy,” she said. “And then Elvis came to stay with me, and now I’ve got this cowboy I’m sweet on that I have to squeeze into my life.” She was kidding, her tone clearly conveying that.

  Will still looked at her with fire blazing in those teal eyes, serious as she’d ever seen him. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “No, sir,” she said, sobering too.

  He fiddled with the toothpick holding his short rib bite. “You’re sweet on me?”

  “William,” she said. “I told you I liked you.”

  “Liking someone is different,” he said.

  “Is it?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re ready to move outside to the tables,” someone called. “Please come forward when I call your name and sit at the table you’re assigned.”

  Will turned toward the man, and Gretchen’s heart quivered strangely in her chest as she moved to stand beside him. Being sweet on him was the same as liking him. She hadn’t revealed anything he didn’t already know.

  She cut a glance at him, trying to get a read on how he felt. The man was like a stone, and he’d drawn shutters over his expression. He seemed rapt on the man up front calling out names, and that only made Gretchen’s legs shake a little more.

  “Gretchen Bellows,” the man called, and she and Will moved forward.

  “Table six, please,” he said, handing Will a single sheet of paper that looked like it was made from a specialty fiber. “This is our wine and spirits menu. Orders can be placed with your table host.” He smiled and looked down at his clipboard.

  Will led Gretchen to table six, his step sure and his voice silent. She wasn’t sure how to break this ice she’d created between them. Or maybe he’d created it. Perhaps both of them. They sure had broken through a few awkward moments, and Gretchen took courage with that knowledge.

  Will slowed and said, “That greenhouse is huge.”

  “Oh, there’s Ingrid,” Gretchen said, her soul lighting up. Ingrid saw her in the next moment, and her smile filled her face. Gretchen giggled as she left Will and danced over to her friend. “Look at you,” she said, hugging the other woman. “You cut your hair and didn’t send me a picture.”

  “Mm, I sure did.” Ingrid gripped her tightly. “That is one mighty fine looking cowboy.” She whispered the words, because Ingrid had tact and grace in droves.

  “Yes, he is,” Gretchen agreed as she pulled back. She looked into her friend’s dark eyes. “Do you have a couple of seconds to meet him?”

  Ingrid glanced toward the back porch, where another couple had just arrived. “I think so.” She turned back to someone. “Martin, I’ll be right back.”

  Gretchen turned to face the same direction as her, and the two of them walked toward Will. “William,” she said. “This is my friend, Ingrid Olsen. She’s the chef-owner of The Cabin.” She smiled at Ingrid and then back at Will. She lifted an imaginary sledgehammer and got ready to swing it with all her might.

  “Ingrid,” she said. “This is William Cooper, my boyfriend.”

  His eyebrows went up, but the corners of his mouth did too. He shook Ingrid’s hand and said, “I can’t wait to eat your food. Everything has been delicious so far.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “What did y’all have?” She glanced between Gretchen and Will.

  “We had the beef and the salmon,” Gretchen said.

  “Wonderful,” Ingrid said. “Wait until you see the beets tonight. They make me so happy.” She got called away in the next moment, and Gretchen watched her stride back toward the kitchen that sat off the back of the house.

  Will indicated her chair, and Gretchen sat at table six. Above them, a canopy of mesh protected them from the insects, and only a few of the brightest stars had started to show in the near-darkness. Cement covered the ground and made the chairs and tables stable, and as Will sank into the chair opposite of her, Gretchen looked right into his eyes.

  “You handled the boyfriend introduction well,” she said, wishing she had a glass of water to hide behind.

  “Did I?”

  “Only raised eyebrows.” She grinned at him and rested her chin in her hands. “No challenge to that?”

  “Do you want me to challenge being called your boyfriend?”

  “No.” She reached for her rolled silverware and removed the utensils from the napkin. “Would you introduce me as your girlfriend?” She focused on spreading her napkin over her lap, her eyes cast down so she didn’t have to see Will’s reaction to her question.

  “What if I did?” he asked. “Would you raise your eyebrows?”

  “Maybe a little,” she said, lifting her eyes back to his.

  “And why’s that?”

  She didn’t know how to articulate what she wanted to say. She couldn’t just blurt out that he better kiss her that night or she might not think he was really interested in her. He seemed to be. He kissed her cheek. Brought her flowers. Held her hand. Asked her questions about her life, her temporary cat, her daddy, her hobbies.

  “I think I know why,” he said, glancing over to the nearest table, but the couple there seemed totally engrossed in their own conversation.

  “Why?”

  “Same reason I was a little surprised.”

  “Because this is our second date?”

  “Because I haven’t kissed you yet,” he said, just saying the words right out loud. How he did that, Gretchen would never know.

  She blinked and somehow got her head to nod. “Yeah…that would be nice.”

  Will’s eyes shone with playfulness. Or maybe something else. “Would it now?”

  Gretchen shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come on, William.”

  He reached across the table, which held a cream-colored cloth, and covered her hands with both of his. “I like it when you call me William. Only my mama ever does that, and usually when I’m about to be in big trouble.” He grinned, which was so unfair to every woman within the vicinity of his charisma. “But when you say it, I feel like I might win the lottery.”

  “I’m sure that’ll happen,” she said, teasing him. “Plus, I heard your sister call you William.”

  “Yeah, and I was in trouble.”

  Gretchen searched his face, catching movement just beyond him. Ingrid was about to go over the menu, and this conversation would die and another one reborn once they got their food. “The chances of winning the lottery are slim,” she said. “But what are my chances of getting that kiss tonight?”

  Will’s eyes dropped to her mouth and rebounded back to her eyes. “I’d say high to very high. Maybe one hundred percent for-sure.” He glanced toward the back porch as a bell rang. “Of course, I suppose it depends on what’s on tonight’s menu.”

  “Welcome, everyone, to The Culinary Cabin,” Ingrid started, her own strong personality exuding out into the night. “We’re thrilled to have you on the farm with us tonight. Our first course is French onion soup, made with a variety of sweet onions we grow plenty of here on the farm.”

  Will groaned under his breath, and his eyes shone with a teasing light as he said, “French onion soup? Can’t kiss a woman after eating that…”

  A couple of hours later, Gretchen leaned away from the plate of panna cotta. “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “But there’s only one left,” Will said, still holding his dessert spoon in his hand.

  Gretchen put hers down so she wouldn’t eat the last bite. “You have it.”

  “I have all this pudding.” He glanced down at his glass cup, which was almost empty. She couldn’t wait to taste the chocolate on his mouth, and her chest heated with the very idea of kissing him that night. She’d been thinking about it all through the meal, and she wondered if he had too.

  After the French onion soup, they’d been served bacon-wrapped sirloin steak, mashed purple sweet potatoes, and the cutest, smallest Brussels sprouts Gretchen had ever seen. Dessert was chocolate pudding and shortbread or a lemon-raspberry panna cotta. They’d opted to get different desserts and share, but she’d only taken one bite of the rich, dark pudding.

  Will scooped up the last of the panna cotta and put it in his mouth. “I do like this,” he said. “It’s very tart.”

  “Refreshing,” Gretchen said.

  “My mama loves sour stuff,” he said. “She’d love this.”

  “I’d like to meet your mama,” Gretchen said. “Because we ladies who like sour in our desserts need to stick together.”

  Will put down his spoon and wiped his mouth. “I’d like you to meet my mama too.” He’d been conversational during dinner, and they’d talked about the food and the farm and not much else. Gretchen knew there’d be plenty of time to get to know him, and it was nice to not have to be learning something new about him every second.

  She had learned that he liked his bacon extra-crispy, and even men would eat vegetables if there was enough honey glaze to go over them.

  “Your mama and your horse,” she teased. “That’s what’s important to most cowboys.” She put both hands on the table and leaned forward. “Do you have a horse, Will?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice a bit guarded. “He’s kind of like your cat. A little standoffish to people he doesn’t know.”

  “What’s his name?” Gretchen asked.

  “Leonard,” Will said.

  Gretchen burst out laughing, sure Will was pulling her leg. He smiled, but he didn’t join in the laughter, and she realized he wasn’t kidding. “Leonard?” she repeated.

  “He was a rescue,” Will said. “I didn’t get to name him.”

  “You can’t rename a horse?”

  “He likes his name.”

  Gretchen blinked at him, still trying to decide if Will was joking. He could flirt with her, and he could be playful, but he wasn’t the kidding type. “All right,” she said. “Leonard it is.”

  He tossed his napkin on the table, over the mostly gone glass of pudding. “Yep.” He sighed and looked out into the darkness. “Should we go?”

  “Sure,” Gretchen said, standing up and putting her napkin on the table too. Will tossed a bill on the table, and Gretchen took one last drink from her water glass.

  Somehow she walked back to the truck, and then before she knew it, Will had pulled into her driveway.

  He held her hand on the way to the front door, and Gretchen wanted time to slow down now. Everything in the past half-hour had happened too fast, and she didn’t want to miss her first kiss with this man.

  Her pulse beat like a big bass drum as she faced him. She wanted to say something quippy like, If my breath is too oniony, you can stop kissing me.

  She simply looked at him, the reverberations of her heartbeat filling her ears and throat.

  He reached up and slid one hand along her jaw and neck to the back of her head. “I haven’t kissed a woman in five years,” he whispered.