Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“ H ey, Nathan. Can you do me a favor?” Kase met him in the kitchen, where he was working on cinnamon rolls, since Miz Alba had asked for them with orange and a little anise… Which was an intriguing proposition.

“Sure. What’s up?” He hummed, sprinkling dough with nuts.

“I need a brunch for a fifteen-year-old. Her mom was killed in a car accident a week and a half ago, she’s been uprooted, and she’s coming this morning with her social worker.”

“Ouch. Well, I’m making cinnamon rolls. Is she a meat-eater?”

“She is. Bacon, sausage, eggs, midnight pancakes. At least that’s what Jennifer said.”

“No problem. How many people?” Breakfast was comfort food. “Is Nanette okay?”

She usually cooked for the main house. Not that he minded, of course he didn’t. He loved brunch.

“Just me and Ryder the Grans. Oh, and Ames. This girl is his cousin. She’s going to stay with us until they get to know each other again.” Kase gave him a wry grin. “Nanette is at the zoo with the homeschool kids and Wat.”

“Oh, wow. That’s cool.” He almost managed not to smile. “Do you think bacon is okay with Ames? It might be too fancy. I can have bran flakes brought in from town.”

Kase gave him a stare. “I think Ames would be pleased to have some bacon rather than cereal.” Then he got another grin. “Legendary, but to be fair, he thought he was being diplomatic asking for one meal a week.”

“Mmm.” Nathan wasn’t sure he was ready to give Ames that. “I’ll make sure he has plenty of real food since there’s a teenager involved.”

And he was a chef. He didn’t criticize the way Ames did his job. He didn’t create food that was inaccessible, he wasn’t a bitch about it, but dammit, he was a professional. He didn’t intend to dumb down his fucking skills to make the lowest common denominator happy.

That was not what he’d been hired for.

He’d been asked to create nutritious food at a certain food cost. Bingo-bango.

Kase nodded easily. “Cool. I mean, it’s brunch. But I appreciate you, man.”

“Cinnamon rolls, bacon, eggs, and a fruit salad ought to be a comfort.” And he had some amazing berries today. Perfectly ripe and begging to be used.

“That sounds amazing. And we’re out of juice. I can make some if you want, but I’ll need to borrow some oranges. We do have milk, if she likes.” Kase sounded a little worried.

“I bet milk will be a comfort. I can make hot chocolate too. No problem. I’ll do the juice. A nice pineapple-orange ought to be right.” He frowned over, confused as hell. “Why are you out of juice? Do you need some?”

He had room in the budget for juice, for fuck’s sake.

“Ryder drank the whole bottle of orange juice last night with some Sprite. He was up late doing paperwork. And no one has gotten to the store today.”

He blinked. “I do the food ordering now. Y’all don’t have to make emergency grocery runs.”

“Oh.” Kase stared, then laughed. “We’re all getting used to you yet. You’re damn efficient.”

“I’m insanely talented that way. I have a database. You can totally send me a text—you, Ryder, the ladies—and I’ll get you set up. I’m a machine.” And he was so fucking bored.

Kase studied him. “Are you okay, Nathan? I know this is far from your dream job, but?—”

“I’m fine,” he cut Kase off. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, man, I worry about everyone. I know what it’s like to have a life change.”

“Yeah.” Nope. No breaking down and wallowing in Kase’s sympathy. “I’m cooking at least. That’s what I do.”

“Sure. Sure. I’m not trying to pry. Anyway, she should be here in the next hour and a half. I’ll text you when she gets in.”

“I’m good with that.” The timeline would be about perfect. “I’ll get the cinnamon rolls done and sent up first.”

“No worries. Alba will wait now until that girl gets here. She takes her foster granny duties seriously.”

“Yeah.” Poor kid. It sank in what Kase had said. “Tell Ames I’m sorry for his loss.”

“Oh, I imagine you’ll get the chance to tell him…” Kase lifted a hand and left him to it.

He drew in a deep breath, glancing at his dough. It needed another short rise. Half an hour in the proofing box once he rolled it. But that would time out right with everything else.

He started the bacon in the oven, then got to work on the fruit. He turned the music back on, singing along with his morning playlist before he started making juice.

When all was said and done, he had a hell of a feast, and he kept everything warm until Kase texted.

Sending help to carry everything

I’m ready.

He got trays together, making them pretty. He wanted to wow the kid and, if he was honest, he wanted Ames to be impressed too.

Two of the cowboys he wasn’t sure he knew came in to lug trays, and it wasn’t long before he was setting up on the huge dining table in the main house. He had to admit, it was a nice canvas for his food, and the way the grans exclaimed over it made him feel ten-feet tall and bulletproof.

Ames walked in as he put the finishing touches on the last tray. He wore dark jeans and a pressed white shirt, his hat in his hand. His boots had been shined, and he smelled like Old Spice.

Oh, someone was stressed as hell.

He walked over, offering Ames a nod and a hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. Aunt Reba was…well, she tried to be kind to me.” Ames’s shoulders were up around his ears. Family relations could be a bear.

“Are you worried about your niece?”

“I haven’t seen her since she was five. Shit, the last time I sent a card she was ten. Reba didn’t want me around her kid, you know?”

“How old is she now?”

“Sixteen.”

Nathan winced. That was a hard age to lose your mom. “I’m sorry. That so sucks.”

“Yeah.” Ames sighed. “This is amazing, man. Thank you. She’ll love this. Who wouldn’t?” Ames studied the cinnamon rolls. “Do I smell orange?”

“Yes. Miss Alba wanted orange and anise. I kept it light, because I didn’t want to be too much for any young taste buds.”

“They smell amazing, dude.” Ames’s eyes glinted with humor. “Even my weak palate might be able to take them.”

“Heaven forbid. I asked if you wanted bran cereal.”

“However will I keep myself regular?”

There was a stir at the kitchen door, and it opened, Ryder stepping back to let someone in.

A solid teenager with bright pink hair and blue eyes matching Ames’ walked in, arms wrapped around herself. When she saw Ames, she gasped and ran to him.

“Uncle A! Oh my God! I found you.” She started sobbing, the poor baby falling apart.

Nathan backed away, nice and careful, allowing Ames to deal with that little girl and her grief. He could go make coffee.

“Hey. Hey, kiddo. Wow. Look at you.” Ames stroked her hair. “I got you. I’m so sorry. I am.”

She sniffled, her shoulders shaking. “I was so scared. I thought—I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I’m so glad you were so smart.”

“She said I can stay here. I can, right? I don’t want to be on my own yet.”

Nathan’s heart was breaking for her.

“Of course you can.”

A woman walked into the kitchen, putting down a heavy tote bag. “Whew. You move fast, kid. What smells so amazing?”

“Jennifer, meet Nathan, our new chef. Nathan, this is the social worker, Jenn.” Ryder waved them at each other. “You’ve met Ames, Jenn.”

“Ah. And you’re the one who started the foster training, right, Nathan?”

“I’m about three-quarters of the way through, ma’am.” It was actually pretty interesting stuff, and he didn’t mind doing it at all.

“Good deal. I’m glad to hear it.” She gave the cinnamon rolls a peek. Maybe he should have baked more.

“Is that all for me?” Sophie asked, looking at the table past Ames.

“Well, for all of us to share, but you get to sample anything you want.” Ames wrapped an arm around her and turned her. “Nathan cooked.”

“It’s gorgeous. Did you make the cinnamon rolls too?”

“Yes, ma’am. They’re orange and anise. I hope you enjoy.” It was the best thing he knew to do—deliver with the food.

“I will. I’m starving.” She dried her eyes. “Wow. This place is huge. What do you do here, Uncle Ames?”

“I’m the trail boss. I take groups of guys out to work the cattle year ’round.” Ames puffed up a little with pride.

“Oh, wow. So…are you never home then? I mean…”

“Sure he is, honey, but we’ll make you a room here for when he’s up pasture,” Kase offered her a gentle smile. “That way you’re not at his house all alone. Fair?”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced at Ames. “You don’t have a dog?”

“Not right now. I had an Aussie named Tinker, but she passed last year.”

Sophie gasped. “Tinker? Like the elephant I had when I was little?”

“Yep. You know why she was named Tinker? Your elephant and my dog.”

“No?” She bit her lip.

“That was our grandpa’s nickname for our grandma.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know you don’t remember them, but I do, and it was so funny to hear him say, ‘oh, Tinker…’.”

“That’s too cool.” She seemed like she would cry again, so Nathan dished up a cinnamon roll on a little plate to hand her, then poured her some juice.

“Sugar helps when emotions are high.”

“It so does.” She took a big bite, her eyes widening. “Holy cow, this is the best.”

“Thank you. I’m experimenting with the?—”

All of the sudden she blinked and squealed. “OMG! I saw you on the Food Network!”

Nathan flushed. He was going to die. “Did you?”

“Yes! You were on that best chefs in the country thing. You got nominated for best restaurant, um, South? Southwest? I love food TV.”

“Texas, and yes. Thank you. I was honored to be nominated.” And glad, at this point, not to have won. He would be miserable if the reporters had all shown up asking how he felt about losing everything. Like a douche.

He just grinned, handing out plates to people.

The teenager kept stealing glances at him, really exploring her food, the knife cuts, the plating. She was a foodie, no doubt. And if she loved her food shows, maybe he could teach her a thing or?—

Nope. Not his place. He wasn’t here to mentor anyone. Cook his little food, wash his little dishes.

Save his pennies and find a way to get his restaurant back, dammit.