Knowing him, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was some drifter with a single guitar who only played Conway Twitty covers.
My dad loved to give back to the community and had inviteddamn near everyone he knew, which meant most of the Ashwood population was going to be out at the ranch. Even our employees got the day off, thereby giving the Hayes family a busy morning attempting to pick up the slack.
After Lennox dragged me from my bedroom, I wandered over to Cook’s tent to help with the food prep. Most of it had already been taken care of—he was a bit neurotic when it came to his craft—but there was still plenty of setup to account for.
I was the only one of my siblings working today, which was fine. I didn’t mind. It gave me something to do instead of crashing out while watching cowboys wrestle steers. I looked toward the table where my family sat. Mom and Dad had come by multiple times, trying to get me to hang up my apron and join them. I made up some excuse, telling them I felt bad leaving everyone else to deal with Cook’s wrath. It wasn’t completely a lie.
For someone who listened to nothing but Hank Williams and spent his weekend fishing, you wouldn’t think he’d be such a snob, but I’d seen Cook get worked up over the order of toppings on a burger. I could still remember the time he had the audacity to criticize my great-great-grandma’s banana bread recipe in front of my mom. She didn’t talk to him for at least two months because he remained steadfast in his opinion.
Honestly, it was still a hot-button topic. I didn’t think they’d ever been the same.
“You know how Texas weather is,” I said, refilling a roll of paper towels. “No one can predict what it’s gonna do.”
“It’s days like this I wish I’d taken a job in a state that actually has seasons,” Cook muttered. “This is bullshit.”
I paused, turning over my shoulder to look at him. “And you’ve lived here how long again?”
His eyes darted to the side. “My whole life.”
“That’s what I thought,” I laughed. “You had the chance toleave, and you didn’t. Just think about all the places you could’ve worked if you’d followed your food-loving heart.”
“I couldn’t give up fishing.”
“You realize there are lakes and rivers in other states, right?”
Cook nodded. “Yeah, but your dad keeps y’all’s stocked, so I don’t have to worry about running out.”
I shrugged. “I guess that’s the price you pay.” I picked up the case of sodas, ready to walk past him to refill one of the coolers, when my stomach let out a horribly embarrassing growl.
Before I knew it, the drinks had been plucked from my hands, and there was a very large, angry man standing in front of me. “When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, narrowing his gaze.
“I’ve been busy,” I said, shrugging him off and reaching for the case once more. He raised it above his head, looking down at me with an expression that screamed trouble.
For all his strong opinions—and believe me, there were many—nothing got Cook more fired up than people going hungry. When he wasn’t on duty at the ranch, he was often volunteering, donating his time and talent to those in need of some help and a good meal.
“Get the hell outta here until you’ve gotten some food in your belly, girl. Anthony!” he called, looking over at one of the employees he’d taken under his wing.
The kid came running up. “Yes, sir?”
“Get Miss Hayes a plate. Load it up with everything, but make sure to put the BBQ sauce on the side,” he said.
I couldn’t help but smile. “You always take good care of me, Cook.”
He huffed, but there was a flush on his cheeks. “I still remember you throwing knock-down, drag-out fits when your mom poured it all over your chicken. If I can avoid a mess, then I’m gonna do my best. I even made the spicy sauce you love so much.”
It was true. I hated most condiments, but I was pickier about BBQ sauce. Most were too sweet. After a lot of hysterical moments and refusing to eat meals, my parents finally learned what worked and what didn’t.
And Cook made one hell of a sauce.
Anthony came rushing back, plate laden with food. “Here ya go, Miss Cleo,” he said, dipping his head.
I thanked him, taking the plate so he could get back to work. Cook gestured toward the table. “Now, you go sit down and enjoy all your hard work.”
“I’ll be back,” I said, pointing in his direction. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“You should be partying it up!” he called. “Not hanging out with me.”
“You’re not such bad company,” I replied. He just waved me off and started barking orders at everyone else.
