Chapter 9

9

W hy had she kissed Ry Blackwood?

Because she had wanted to…

Emerson still couldn't believe she had acted so spontaneously. She was the most methodical, practical person she knew. Yet the handsome ex-soldier's good looks made all of her common sense fly out the window.

He must have thought it odd, her making a move like that, much less making the kiss so brief. Actually, she had no idea how long a kiss should last, other than what she'd seen in the movies. It wasn't as if that was a topic which came up in everyday conversation. She was dreading being alone with Ry tonight and yet excited at the same time. Such a mixed bag of emotions had her thoughts scattered, and she forced herself to focus on the cake she was moving from the kitchen to the reception area.

Shy Blackwood was already on site, getting the meal ready for tonight's reception. He walked over now and grinned at her.

"You just get better and better, don't you, Emerson? That wedding cake is a true work of art. Just look at all those tiers and beautiful flowers on it."

"I just hope it'll please this particular bride. She's been a handful."

Shy nodded in agreement. "She changed the menu on me three— no, four —times. Finally, Harper told me to stop accommodating her and tell her things were set. If not, she'd be needing a new caterer. That shut the little lady up pretty fast."

A worker asked Shy a question and he excused himself, allowing Emerson to roll the cake out to the area designated for the wedding and groom's cakes. One of Harper's assistants came over and helped her to remove the cake from the rolling cart and place it carefully on the display table. While the assistant began arranging dessert plates and napkins around it, Emerson returned to the kitchen to claim the groom's cake. She was pleased at the sports theme and hoped the groom knew what he was doing by marrying this particular bride.

Once more, she brought the second cake to the reception hall and the assistant helped her set it on the groom's table.

"This design rocks, Emerson," the assistant praised. "I feel sorry for this groom. He's got a tiger by the tail, and I think she's going to gobble him up."

Harper appeared, her eyes sweeping over the two cake tables, giving Emerson a nod of approval.

"Wonderful job, Em."

"You seem a little uptight," she commented.

Harper gave her a rueful smile. "If I call and ask you to bail me out of jail, it's because I've been arrested for murder. Friday's Bridezilla is wearing me out."

"Stay firm, Harper," Emerson recommended. "I know not every client is pleasant to work with. Hopefully, you'll never have to lay eyes on this one again."

"I don't think this marriage is going to last. If she returns for a second round, I'll tell her she needs to find some other venue to work with. Life's too short to deal with women like her. Changing subjects, how did you like being on the set of a movie?"

"It was interesting. It amazed me how long it takes to get set up to film a scene. Lighting. Sound. I thought stand-ins were people who performed stunts, but I know now that they're used to help light a scene before the actors step in and do their thing. We got to watch a few scenes filmed, and we also went through the makeup trailer and talked to the lady in charge of costumes. I have a lot more respect now for what it takes to get a movie completed."

"How is Wolf as a director?" Harper asked.

"He's got a quiet yet commanding presence. Ana told us that he likes rehearsing a scene several different ways, getting the actors' input, before the cameras roll. He really picks up on the tiniest of details. He pulled aside the lead who's playing a detective and spoke to him briefly after the first take. They filmed the scene again, and it played out totally different from what we'd witnessed previously, even though it was the exact same dialogue. I can't wait to see the final version of the movie."

"Ana told me they'll do the premiere at an upcoming film festival in Austin," Harper shared. "We'll all be invited to attend. They will do the wrap party here at the winery, though. Ana wants you to do a few different desserts for it. Not necessarily cakes."

"She mentioned that to me while we were on set. Ry told her about the chocolate tacos I'd made, and Ana definitely wants those prepared for the cast and crew. We talked it over, and I'm also going to do a blueberry chiffon mini-pie, honeybee cupcakes, and strawberry cheesecake bites. I haven't yet put a date on my calendar, though. Do you have any idea when filming might wrap?"

"Ana gave me a tentative date in August," Harper said. "I'll check my calendar and text that to you. She thinks things are going so well that they might finish production sooner than planned. Maybe by a few days to as much as a week. You'll have plenty of time to prepare for it, though."

Harper told her how many cast and crew members were involved in the production of Hill Country Homicide and said to add another twenty people to that total, saying that Ana wanted their friend group to attend, as well as a few others from Lost Creek.

"They'll be using Lone Star Diner in a couple of scenes," Harper explained. "Shelly is over the moon about that. They'll film those after she's closed the diner for the day. I know there's also a scene set at a library, so Ana and Wolf will want Dorothy Prigmore also invited to the party as a thank you."

"Sounds good. I'll be out of here once I get the groom's cake situated."

Harper smiled encouragingly. "I hear you are having company for dinner tonight."

Heat filled Emerson's cheeks. "Who told you that?"

"Braden. He heard it from Dax. Ry stopped in at Java Junction and had coffee with Dax. He brought it up." Harper touched Emerson's arm. "I think this is a good thing, Em. I told you that Ry is a great guy. I hope this is a match that sticks."

"I'm not sure if I have time to see anyone, Harper," she said brusquely. "Between The Bake House and Weddings with Hart, my time is pretty well taken up."

Harper smiled reassuringly. "There's always time for friends. And love."

Emerson stiffened. "You're jumping to conclusions, Harper. I know you're very fond of Ry and think of him as a brother, but I'm not Ry Blackwell's type."

Her friend studied her a moment. "Then why is he coming over tonight? He's interested in you, Emerson. I can tell. Don't be so prickly. Give him a chance."

"He's seeking my help as a professional," she said coolly. "I'm going to be tasting a few dishes he's prepared and giving him feedback on them. That's all."

Harper pursed her lips. "If you say so. Gotta go."

Emerson fiddled some with the groom's cake before leaving the event center. The entire way home, she kept telling herself that Ry Blackwood wasn't interested in her. That he really only wanted her opinion regarding what he cooked. She would keep her lips and hands to herself and expected him to do the same. She had acted foolishly when she'd kissed him.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Once she arrived home, she went into the bathroom and studied her image in the mirror. Color dotted her cheeks. She applied a coat of lipstick and tossed the tube in a drawer, refusing to remove the elastic band which held her hair in a high ponytail. She usually wore it this way to keep it out of her way as she worked and wasn't going to go to any trouble for the man who would be stopping by tonight.

She did decide to open a bottle of wine, though. Lost Creek Vineyards had several wonderful whites and reds, but they were fast becoming known for their blends, thanks to Braden. Emerson chose a red blend now and opened it in order to let it breathe.

When the doorbell rang, she sucked in a quick breath, telling her racing heart it was no big deal that Ry had arrived. She would treat him as she would any of her friends who stopped by.

Opening the door, though, her heart slammed against her ribs, leaving her breathless. Ry held a large pan in his hands. It was covered with foil, and she assumed whatever he wished for her to sample was inside it.

"Hi," she said brightly, stepping aside to let him enter the house.

"Hi, yourself," he replied, going straight to the kitchen and setting the pan on the countertop. "I spy wine."

"I opened some for us," she said casually. "Being a barbeque man, I knew you'd be bringing meats and thought a red blend would go well with them."

"You're right about that. I actually went to Lost Creek Winery today and did a tasting with Ivy. I knew next to nothing about wine. Only that it came in red and white."

She laughed. "Ivy has taught me a lot about wines, so much that I actually have a few I prefer now and even know what foods to pair with them."

He picked up the bottle, nodding approvingly. "This is one I sampled. Probably my favorite."

"Mine, too," she confirmed. "Braden has really contributed some great flavors to the Lost Creek Vineyards label."

A shadow crossed his face, and Emerson recalled how close Ry was with Todd Hart, who had been slated to take over from his dad and become the chief winemaker at the winery.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "You must really miss Todd, especially now that you're back in Lost Creek."

Tears misted his dark blue eyes. "I hate to say it, but it's like I've lost him all over again by coming home. When Todd died, a part of me died, too. We had left Texas to see different countries and have a few adventures. Then Todd came home in a box. I stayed. Did another TOD. Then two more after that."

Understanding dawned within her. "That's why you left cooking after your first tour. Did you think fighting in the field would make up for Todd's death?"

"I don't know what I was thinking back then," he admitted. "I only knew Todd was gone, and I felt like it was all my fault. Cooking had always brought me joy, so I denied myself that joy. Todd was dead, and I felt guilty as hell about that. I learned a lot, being in combat, though I never made another friend. I had my fellow soldiers' backs. I knew a lot of people as acquaintances, but I never really believed I could let my guard down and open my heart to another friend. Todd was my brother from another mother."

"Do you still feel the same?" she asked quietly. "Or have you reached a point where you can move on, remembering the many good times?"

He grew thoughtful. "Coming back to Lost Creek, everything here reminds me of Todd again. I do have a little more maturity about me, however. I appreciate the bond I had with him. I've apologized to Ivy and Harper— and the Harts. They've all told me there's nothing to forgive. I wasn't even around during the training exercise that went wrong. Still, I've carried that burden of Todd's death on my soul for a long time."

She stepped toward him and squeezed his arm, feeling the hard muscle beneath her fingertips. "Believe the Harts, Ry. They're good people. They would never hold you responsible for what happened. And you shouldn't either."

Emerson let her hand drop but stayed close to him, feeling the heat vibrating off of him, inhaling that wonderful, masculine scent.

"I'm ready to move on," he said determinedly. "I've made peace with the past. I'm ready to live in the present— and I'm open to whatever the future brings. I'm already feeling a connection with others. No one will ever replace Todd, but I realize now that I can make new friends and build memories with them."

"That's very mature of you," she praised, knowing he'd reached a turning point in his life. The men in their friend group were wonderful. Kind and generous. They would welcome Ry and help him get over the past.

For a long moment, they gazed at one another, Emerson's heart beating rapidly.

Then Ry turned away, focusing on the bottle of wine. "Let me pour us some wine, and you can try what I've brought."

He poured the wine into the two glasses sitting next to the bottle and offered her one.

"To new friendships— and good times to come," he toasted, tapping his wineglass against hers.

She took a long pull of the blend, feeling it warm her as she swallowed.

"Let me get some plates for us."

As she walked to the cupboard and removed them, she added, "Why don't we eat at the breakfast bar? It'll be convenient for you to serve us here."

"Fine with me."

Ry began removing the foil from the large pan, and Emerson saw within it were separate packets of foil-wrapped items, along with a few Styrofoam containers.

He pulled those out first, saying. "These are some different sauces I'd like you to try before we even pour them over the meats."

While he removed the lids, she got napkins and silverware for them. She also poured each of them a tall glass of water, placing those beside their plates.

"We can cleanse our palates with the water," she told him.

"Good idea."

He had her taste each sauce, describing the base and what herbs he added to it, noting the heat level and what kinds of meat he'd use with the sauce. Emerson had a great palate and even asked him about one of the sauces.

"Did this one also have thyme?"

He grinned. "It does. I'd forgotten I'd added that. You really do have good taste buds."

"I mostly deal with sweets, but I can pick out different herbs. I use some of them in breads I make."

"Let's see what you think of my meats. I was up at six this morning, letting them cook slowly. That's the thing about barbequing. You have to practice patience. Nothing can be rushed." He paused. "Kind of like relationships. You have to feel your way. Take your time. Sample different items until you hit upon what you like."

She looked away, sensing the blush filling her cheeks, and sipped some of her wine as he unfolded the first item.

"This is smoked brisket. I'm sure you realize that beef brisket is at the heart of any barbeque joint."

He plated some for her. "Try it first without sauce."

Emerson did so, the brisket tender as she chewed. "It's fabulous."

"I used chili antique and Thai herbs on it." He lifted a container. "Try this sauce with it."

She did and said, "I like it with and without. It can stand alone, but the sauce really enhances the flavor."

As they ate, she asked, "Would you tell me about how you smoke meat? I've eaten your dad's barbeque a bunch of times, but I really don't know much about how it's prepared."

He grinned, looking boyish and very appealing. "Smoking meat low and slow really changes its taste and texture. The heat isn't just low. It's indirect. The smoke changes the composition of a cut of meat, infusing it with vapors and soot. The type of wood you use also flavors meat in unique ways."

Ry paused. "You understand science, so you'll get how a gradual heat crispens and dehydrates the outside of a cut of meat, making the outside browned or even blackened, like with brisket. Slow cooking a brisket twelve hours or more gives it that distinctive, smoky favor. It's melt-in-your-mouth tender."

"You mentioned the wood also flavoring your meat. What kind do you prefer? Or do you change it up for different cuts or varieties of meat?"

"I'm partial to apple and maple when it comes to pork. They both give pork a sweet, mild flavor. But the heart and soul of Texas barbeque is beef. For that, I like hickory. That provides a strong smokiness to your beef. Almost bacon-like. Oak and mesquite are also good choices. Oak is middle-of-the-road, as far as smoky flavor goes. Mesquite can be really strong. We only use it in our outdoor smokers."

Emerson saw how his eyes lit up now, comfortable talking about a subject he knew a lot about.

"Then there's the whole argument about whether to use chips, logs, or pellets. Personally, I'm into wood chunks since I've got tons of experience smoking meats and prefer them for smoking brisket or pork butt. As for whether or not you wet the wood? I'm a firm believer in… "

His voice trailed off, and she frowned. "You wet the wood?"

Ry shook his head. "You asked a simple question, and I'm going off, spouting about all kinds of things you couldn't possibly be interested in. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she told him. "I can tell you have a passion for smoking meat. Returning to your roots in Lost Creek, you'll get the opportunity to do that again. Really, I'm interested in what you have to say."

"Why don't you finish tasting what I brought instead?" he countered. "I've got a pork loin and would be interested in your feedback."

Removing another packet, Ry opened it, placing some on her plate.

"This is grilled pork loin. I used oak. It's accompanied with cucumber pickles and chicharrónes— fried pork belly. My spin on it includes a walnut bagna cauda. That's made up of garlic, anchovies, and olive oil. Not really Asian. Just something I've played around with."

Emerson tasted it, letting it sit on her tongue a moment. "I like the garlic. I'd cut back slightly on the anchovies, though. Those are an acquired taste as it is, and you don't want them to overwhelm the dish."

"Got it."

She also sampled what Ry called a smoked butcher's cut covered with shishito salsa verde and sprinkled with chopped cilantro and pickled onions.

"This is even better than the brisket, and I was a fan of that," she said. "I could eat this all day."

"One more thing to try. Some braised ribs. I actually wrapped these in foil with hoisin sauce."

"What's hoisin got in it?" she asked.

"It's a glaze that's a mixture of sweet and salty. It contains soybeans, garlic, fennel, and red chili peppers. I also added some five-spice powder, as well as vinegar and sugar, then finished it off with a healthy dose of soy sauce. Braising infuses the liquid into the ribs and softens the connective rib tissue. Try dipping them in this sauce after you've sampled the rib."

He opened a container and placed it in front of her. "I made this from the reserved braising liquid. Added some red pepper jelly and a dash of vinegar."

First, she bit into the rib and tasted the meat alone. Then, she dipped it into the sauce.

"Wow! I'm not kidding, Ry, this is terrific. Everything has been excellent. You're really on to something."

He looked worried. "Do you think Texans would eat this?"

"Honestly, I think they'd be reluctant to order it if they saw it on the menu. Blackwood BBQ has been around for decades. People like the tried and true, their go-to orders. But," she added, "if they sampled these dishes, you would have some real converts."

"I doubt Dad will consider putting any of these on the menu," Ry said. "He's more set in his ways than his customers are."

"Then you need to convince him otherwise," she advised. "Have him taste what you made me. He's a businessman. He's not going to turn down a good idea. Adding some of these menu items to what he already serves would be good business. It would also add a new dimension to the catering menu. Harper would go crazy for all of these. In fact, why don't you take over next Wednesday's dinner and try out your recipes on the group? They would give you honest feedback."

"You really think I should?" he asked.

"Definitely. Don't just go with my opinion. I'm telling you, though, that everyone is going to go wild over your spin on traditional Texas barbeque."

He reached up, his fingers lightly grazing her chin as his thumb rubbed against the corner of her mouth.

"You had a little sauce," he explained, wiping his thumb on a napkin.

For a moment, Emerson couldn't breathe as his gaze penetrated her, seeming to see into her very soul.

Then Ry leaned over and brushed his lips against hers.

Magic…