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Chapter 9: Gabrielle

Chapter 9 – Gabrielle

As soon as I’m back in the kitchen, I start on the pot roast. That’s going to take a while. I sear the roasts, transfer them to Dutch ovens, add the broth, seasonings, and prepped potatoes and carrots, and then pop them into the ovens.

“You know what would go well with the pot roast?” I ask Hannah, who watched me get the meal started.

“What?”

“My granny’s famous apple crisp, served warm with vanilla ice cream and a browned butter caramel sauce drizzled over top.”

“Oh, wow,” she says. “Can you do that? Is there time?”

“Yeah, there’s still time. The problem is I don’t have all the ingredients I’d need, namely Granny Smith apples, brown sugar, and oats. We still have plenty of vanilla ice cream, so we’re good there. Everything else—like sugar and butter—I have.”

“I’ll drive you to Maggie’s if you want,” Hannah says. She gives me a hopeful look. “Just say the word.”

“Okay, I’ll grab my purse.”

It’s a quick drive to town. We park outside the grocery store and walk inside. Maggie’s standing behind the counter, and across from her is a man holding a tiny baby. A little baby girl, from the looks of it. She’s wrapped securely in a pale pink blanket.

“Hey, Maggie!” Hannah says. “Owen!”

I presume that’s Maggie’s husband. Wow. If he is, Maggie is one lucky lady. This guy is all kinds of hot, from the way his jeans hug his ass to his broad shoulders nicely filling out a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt. Do all the guys wear flannel shirts around here? It’s a good look. His brown hair is long and tied up in a man-bun.

Hannah makes a beeline for the baby and peers down at her. “Oh, my God, you guys. She’s so precious.”

“Honey, this is Gabrielle,” Maggie says to the man, who’s cuddling the baby against his broad chest.

He turns to me. “Hey, nice to meet you. Welcome to Bryce.”

“What brings you two in?” Maggie asks us.

“Granny Smith apples,” I say. “Plus brown sugar and old-fashioned rolled oats.”

Nodding, Maggie comes around the counter, holding up her index finger. “Sounds like someone’s making apple crisp. I’ve got everything you need. Just give me a second.”

“Gabrielle is making apple crisp and serving it a la mode with vanilla ice cream and a caramel sauce drizzled over top. And that’s just the dessert. She’s also making pot roast for supper tonight.”

Owen gazes across the store at Maggie, who’s currently in the produce department bagging up some apples. “Hey, honey, do we have plans for dinner?”

Maggie laughs. “Do you suddenly have a hankering for pot roast?”

“You bet I do,” Owen says.

“Yeah, you guys should come tonight,” Hannah says. “Bring the kids.”

“Looks like we’ll be there,” Maggie says as she brings the items I need to the counter.

Hannah pulls out a credit card and hands it to Maggie. “Remind me to get you your own company credit card,” she tells me.

After checking out, Hannah and I return to the lodge. I get started right away on tonight’s dessert. I have enough apples to make three crisps. I just hope that’ll be enough. Somehow I’m afraid it won’t be.

While the roast and veggies are cooking slowly to perfection, I take some measurements in the kitchen and sketch my ideas for the upgrades that need to be made.

We open our doors for dinner at five. There’s already a line. I man the host podium and seat guests while Tammy takes orders. We have a steady stream of diners coming in. And then, around six, we get an unexpected rush. Apparently, word got out about the pot roast. Not only do we have lodge guests dining with us tonight, but some folks from town show up as well, including the sheriff.

“I came for the pot roast,” Chris says when he finally reaches the podium. “Please tell me there’s some left.”

“You’re in luck. There’s plenty more,” I say.

“I couldn’t pass up pot roast.” He takes off his sheriff’s hat. “Have you eaten supper?”

“No, not yet. I’ve been running nonstop since we opened. I haven’t had a chance.”

“Can you take a break and join me for dinner?”

His far from casual question catches me off guard. Surely he’s not asking me to have dinner with him … not as in a date.

“Come on,” he says. “You’ve got to eat sometime, right?”

“Well, yes.” And I am getting rather hungry.

“Then join me.” He nods to a corner table that’s out of the way of the main foot traffic. “There’s a quiet table. We can relax and have a nice dinner.”

“Okay, but I don’t have long.” I motion to the table in question. “Why don’t you have a seat while I go get our dinners?”

“Perfect,” he says.

I bring out the PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF sign so we can keep the line moving.

This isn’t a date, I remind myself as I head for the kitchen. We’re just two people sharing a table. He didn’t actually ask me out. The sheriff seems like a great guy, and he’s very good-looking, but if he did ask me out, I’d have to say no. It’s not that I’m uninterested in him—it’s just that I’m more interested in someone else. I wouldn’t want to muddy the water while I’m hoping for a chance to get to know a certain someone else better.

I return to our table with a tray laden with two plates of pot roast, a basket of warm dinner rolls, and two side salads. “What would you like to drink?”

He smiles. “I’ll stick with a soft drink since I’m still on duty. But you have whatever you want.”

I fetch Cokes for both of us, along with some fresh butter.

“So, what did you think of the farmers market?” he asks me as we both dig in to the pot roast. He takes his first bite. “Gabrielle, this is fantastic.”

“Thanks. As for the market, it was quite impressive. I definitely think I’ll be a regular customer.”

“Good. I’m glad. How are you liking Bryce? I realize you’ve hardly been here long enough to form an opinion.”

“I like what I see so far. Everyone’s been very friendly. And it’s nice that I already have friends here.”

“Right. Hannah and Killian. You knew them from Chicago, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And I met Maggie and Jennie and Ruth yesterday. I hope to add them to my friends list as well. And John, of course. He’s been a huge help to me.”

“Ah, yes, Burke. He’s an interesting character, isn’t he? Speak of the devil, here he is now.”

I turn to spot John standing at the host podium. Despite the PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF sign I posted at the podium, he doesn’t seem inclined to do so. Instead, he’s looking our way, his expression flat. “Excuse me,” I say to Chris. I jump up and walk to the podium. “Hi. Want some dinner?”

John shakes his head. “No. I’m—uh, looking for Killian.”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen him. Would you like to eat something? The pot roast turned out really well. And there’s warm apple crisp with caramel sauce for dessert. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” I nod toward the table I’m sharing with Chris. “You’re welcome to join us. We have plenty of room.”

John glances over at Chris and frowns. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.” Then he meets my gaze once more. “I should go.” He turns to leave.

“John, wait!”

He pauses, glancing back at me. “You should return to your table, Gabrielle. Your food’s gettin’ cold.” And then he walks out the door without a backward glance.

As I watch him walk away, I feel an odd hollowness in my gut. I feel guilty, like I just hurt him. Or betrayed him. But that’s impossible. We hardly know each other. And we don’t have a relationship—not that kind anyway. Not that I wouldn’t be interested, because I think I would. But we’re not there yet. So, why do I feel so guilty that he saw me eating with Chris? We’re not on a date. We’re just two people sharing a table at dinner. Crap.

I glance over at Chris, who’s waving me back to our table. I return and glance down at my half-eaten meal. My appetite is gone. “I’d better get back to work. Poor Tammy is doing it all. Thanks for stopping in, Chris. Don’t forget to save room for dessert. I’ll have Tammy bring you some.”

Oddly enough, he stands as I make ready to leave. “It was great seeing you, Gabrielle. The meal is fantastic. Thank you. I—I was wondering if I could take you out sometime. Anywhere you want to go. There are some great restaurants in Estes Park. Have you been there?”

My skin tightens, and I feel a chill as I swallow against a sudden knot in my throat. “Chris.” Why didn’t I see this coming? Suddenly, I feel a bit queasy. I’m never any good at turning someone down. “Thanks for the offer. That’s very kind of you, but I’m not—I mean—I just moved here. I’m focusing on my new job, and I don’t really have time to date. But thanks anyway.” I turn to leave, then turn back. “Have a nice night.”

When I return to the podium, my pulse is racing. I feel terrible for turning Chris down. He really seems like a wonderful guy.

Fortunately, I’m distracted when Maggie Ramsey and her family walk in. She’s accompanied by her sexy lumberjack of a husband and two handsome teenage boys. The little baby girl’s asleep in a car seat hooked over Owen’s arm.

I shove away my guilt over Chris and my concerns about John and greet them with a warm smile. “I’m glad you made it.”

“So am I,” Owen says. “It smells amazing.”

* * *

Sunday morning, I help out in the restaurant by serving customers while Tammy acts as host. Nelle and Betty do an excellent job keeping the buffet replenished.

After the breakfast rush, I take care of cleaning up the kitchen and doing the dishes so the ladies can take a much-deserved break before the lunch rush. We need to increase staffing soon. It’s too much to expect those two older ladies, me, and Tammy, who occasionally volunteers, to keep a restaurant this size running smoothly.

After I finish cleaning up the kitchen and dining room, I finish my design sketches and take the last of the measurements. I think I’ll be prepared tomorrow when I visit the kitchen supply store.

I hope John hasn’t changed his mind about driving me to Denver. I still don’t have the Jeep yet, but even if I did, I’d much prefer to go to Denver with him than make the drive by myself.

Speaking of John, I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening when he came into the restaurant and then abruptly left. He didn’t come in for breakfast this morning.

Last night, I was able to save some of the pot roast and apple crisp for him. I pack up a to-go lunch, along with some rolls and butter, and go in search of him. I try the barn first, and luck out finding him cleaning one of the stalls.

“Hi, John.”

He looks up from his work and nods.

“I missed you at breakfast.” I’m standing outside the stall where he’s working.

It looks like he stripped down to a short-sleeve T-shirt. I notice a long-sleeve flannel shirt draped over the stall door. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed in short sleeves. His arms—wow. Those biceps are a work of art. I’ve always been a sucker for muscular arms. In romance books, they call it arm porn. I smile. I can see the appeal.

He continues shoveling straw, not bothering to look at me. “I ate in my cabin.”

I hold up the carry-out sack I brought. “I saved you some dinner and dessert from last night. I thought you might like to have it for lunch.”

He finally stops shoveling and straightens, one hand on the handle of the shovel, the other wiping his forehead. “How’d it go last night?”

“Dinner? Great. The pot roast was a big hit.”

“I don’t mean dinner. I mean your date.”

“My—” I frown. “I didn’t have a date last night.”

“I saw you eatin’ with Chris. Just the two of you.”

“Oh. That wasn’t a date. He just stopped in for dinner, and he asked if I wanted to join him.”

“Looked like a date to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t. It was just two people eating dinner at the same table.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “You do know he’s sweet on you, right? You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

I feel a guilty flush cross my cheeks. “He did sort of ask me out.”

“Of course he did. And I don’t blame him one bit. I wouldn’t blame you, either, for wantin’ to date him. He’s a great guy, Gabrielle. He’s got loads of integrity. Folks around here rely on him. He’s a sheriff, for crying out loud—a real life hero.”

“I’m sure he is a great guy, but I said no.”

“Why in the world would you say no to him? Women jump at the chance to go out with the sheriff.”

“I’m new to town. I—” I’m at a loss for words because I can’t very well say, I’m not interested in dating the sheriff because there’s this other guy I’m interested in. A surly, grumpy cowboy.

“He’s a good-lookin’ guy, Gabrielle. Even I can admit that.”

I’m thinking, Fine. Then you date him.

I feel like I’m walking on eggshells here. We’re talking in circles, and I don’t feel like I can come right out and say what I want to. “I need to focus on my new job. That’s my priority. Not dating. So, do you want the pot roast or not?”

He nods. “Yeah. I want it. Thanks.” He nods toward a wooden bench lining the corridor. “You can set it down over there.”

“It really should go in a refrigerator if you’re not going to eat it now. Do you have access to a microwave?”

He nods. “There’s one here in the tack room.” He leans the shovel against the wall.

I step into the stall and hand him the sack. “Here you go.”

He takes it from me. “Thanks.”

I step back then, to leave. “Are you still driving me to Denver in the morning?”

“Of course I am. I said I would.”

“Thanks.”

When I turn to leave, he says, “Gabrielle, wait!”

“Yes?”

He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then closes it. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he debates what he wants to say. I wait patiently.

“I’m taking a group of women from L.A. out on a trail ride in a couple of days. Would you like to join us? I know you said you used to want a pony. I thought you might like to go with us.”

I’m so tempted to say yes, but the pragmatic side of me says no. “I’ve never even been on a horse before. I wouldn’t know the first thing.”

“I can teach you. Would you like a riding lesson? I’ve got time now. How about it? If you like, I’ll saddle Odin up for you. He’s my most dependable, most gentle horse. They’re all great, mind you, but Odin is special. I save him for kids and people who are anxious about riding. I’m not saying you’re anxious, of course. I just know you’ll have a good experience riding him. If you want to.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard John say so much at one time. Warmth spreads through my chest. “I’d love to. But what about your lunch?”

“Can you give me thirty, forty minutes to eat and change?” He pulls on his T-shirt, wafting it. “I’m a hot, sweaty mess right now, not fit for company. I need a shower.”

“That’s fine.” I glance down at my dress and sandals. “I’ll run back to my apartment and change into jeans and sneakers. That’s probably more appropriate attire for riding.”

“Jeans, yes,” he says. “But not sneakers. Have you got boots? Something with a proper heel?”

I nod. “I think I have something that will work.” I hurry back to the lodge and race through the lobby and head for the stairs.

Kevin’s on the phone. He waves at me, covers the mouthpiece, and asks, “Where’s the fire?”

Smiling, I wave to him as I take the stairs up to my apartment. It’s just a riding lesson, but I’m reeling with excitement. Not so much about the prospect of riding a horse, but rather spending more time with John. It’s not a date, of course. I know that. I guess I could say he’s doing me a professional courtesy by teaching me how to ride. Maybe it’s his way of thanking me for bringing him lunch.

As I enter my apartment, I remind myself not to get too excited. It’s just a riding lesson. It’s not like he asked me out on a date.

I freshen up in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and hair. I probably should put my hair up in a ponytail for convenience’s sake, but I decide to leave it down. I change into a pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt, and put on a pair of brown leather ankle boots. They have a heel.

By the time I return to the barn, it’s been forty-five minutes. John is saddling a huge brown Quarter Horse with a black mane and tail. “The pot roast was fantastic, by the way,” he says when he spots me. He sounds like he’s in a much better mood than he was earlier. “The dessert, too. Thanks for bringing it.”

“My pleasure.”

John pats the horse’s thick neck. “This is Odin.”

The big horse’s halter is secured by two ropes that stretch across the aisle and are secured to metal rings embedded in the barn walls. When the horse spots me, he lifts his head and whinnies softly, blowing air out of his nostrils.

I watch as John throws a blanket over the horse’s back. “He likes you.”

“How can you tell?” I take a hesitant step forward, although I’m still at least ten feet away from the horse. “Hi, Odin.”

John smiles. “Have you ever been around a horse before?”

“No, never.”

“Okay. You can come closer,” he says. “Approach him slowly and talk gently. Let him get used to your scent and the sound of your voice. Let him know you’re a friend.”

“Hi, Odin.” I slowly move closer. “I’d like to be friends if that’s all right with you.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind.” Another grin from John. “Offer him your hand, palm side down, loose and relaxed. Let him smell you.”

I’m shaking but determined to go through with this. When my hand is within range, Odin nudges it gently with his muzzle. “His nose is so soft.”

“It is. Keep talking to him. After he gets a chance to learn your scent, you can slowly raise your hand and give him a little scratch on his forehead. He’ll like that.”

I do as instructed in spite of the butterflies in my belly. “You’re my first, Odin. Would you mind letting me ride you?”

John coughs, practically choking on a laugh. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to.”

Once Odin is saddled, John slips a bridle over his head and leads him outside, where he loops the reins over a pole.

“Now, you always mount a horse on his left side,” he says, guiding me to the correct spot. “Grab hold of the reins and horn with your left hand and grab the back of the saddle with your right. I’ll give you a lift up. Just swing your right leg over the horse and sit on the saddle. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I say.

I do as John instructed, and he effortlessly lifts me into the air and sits me down on the saddle.

“Put your feet in the stirrups,” he says. He adjusts them and positions my feet just so. “Keep your heels down. Now, hold the reins lightly in your fingers. Don’t tug. Don’t pull. Be gentle on the reins.”

I glance down at the ground, surprised by how far away it is. I didn’t expect that. “Odin sure is tall.”

“He’s sixteen hands. That’s pretty tall for a horse. But don’t worry. He’s a gentle giant. He’ll take good care of you as long as you take good care of him.” John takes the reins from me. “I’ll lead you around the paddock a few times so you can get used to the feel of him moving beneath you. Just hold onto the horn.” He points to the handle on the saddle. “Yeah, this thing here.”

John leads Odin around the paddock, and I hold onto the horn with a death grip. Heights make me dizzy.

“How’re you doin’?” he asks as we take another turn around the paddock.

My pulse is through the roof. “Okay.”

He chuckles. “That didn’t sound very convincing. Do you want to take the reins?”

I laugh nervously. “Do I have to?”

“No, you don’t,” he says, gazing up at me with an earnest expression. “I’d be happy to lead you around the paddock as long as you like.”

When our gazes lock, my chest tightens. I’m thinking, Why won’t you ask me out?

Odin whinnies softly.

“See?” John says. “Odin agrees. We are at your service.”

After a few more minutes, I decide to put my big girl panties on and take the reins. John walks a few feet ahead of us in a big circle around the enclosed area, and Odin follows him dutifully.

By now, I’m used to the rocking motion of the horse, used to sitting up so high off the ground. “This isn’t so bad.”

John glances up at me. “So, do you think you’ll be up to taking your first trail ride Tuesday? It’s a pretty easy trip—about three hours up to Pine Lake. We’ll do a little easy hiking around the lake and eat packed lunches. Then we’ll ride back down to the lodge. It’s sort of an all-day thing, but it shouldn’t be too taxing. What do you say?”

I hesitate, wanting to say yes, but not sure I’m up for such a long ride. “I’ll give it some thought.”

He nods and pats my leg. “Of course. I hope you’ll come with us.”

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