Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (11 page)

He shook his head. “I can show you the meat preparation some other time.”

“All right then. I…” She paused and looked at him, then away quickly.

Interesting.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen Darcy look flustered before.

“I better get going, like I said. I don’t want to try that road after dark.”

He nodded, following her out the door and across the bridge to her car. “It’s a bitch all right. From now on, just park up by the portable smoker at the top of the rise. No point in driving down here—I’ll come up and help you carry the sides back across the bridge.”

“Right.” She paused next to her SUV, turning to look at him. “Thanks. It was interesting.”

Almost without thinking he raised his hand, running his fingertips lightly along her cheekbone to brush away a fleck of cottonwood fiber. Her skin felt warm beneath his touch. “It was that.”

He brought his fingers to her lips, touching them gently, feeling the quick puff of her breath on his fingers.

She blinked, half drawing back from him and then…not.

They stood for a moment, staring at each other.
Go for it.

But then she turned back to her SUV, clicking the automatic unlock. “See you tomorrow.”

“Right.” He watched her back the SUV up and turn around, heading up his miserable excuse for a road.

Her voice had sounded slightly rough there at the end, like she hadn’t been quite as steely as she seemed. Or maybe he’d just imagined it.

He sighed, turning back across the bridge where Porky waited for him, tongue lolling. Maybe he’d actually give the dog a little sausage this time—keep his hopes up for the future. Everybody needed hopes for the future, after all. But then he had to get to work himself.

Like they said, barbecue waited for no man. And he had some briskets to rub.

Chapter Eight

Chico regarded Sunday evening with mixture of anticipation and dread. He wasn’t entirely sure having Andy come to the Faro was a good idea. They still seemed about as far apart as the Queen of England and a corgi wrangler. She was a scientist, he was a bouncer. She had advanced degrees, he’d managed a couple of years of college credits before letting it slide out of boredom.

Although, of course, he’d considered taking more courses over the last few months—something in business that might help him manage his investments. It would have to be online, though. He’d never show up in a classroom with a bunch of kids.

Right.
Whenever he tried to think about his next date with Andy, his mind seemed to wander off onto other paths.

He sighed, picking up a tray of dishes for Bobby Sue, who might be a waitress extraordinaire but who was also too old to be bussing her own dishes. Bobbie Sue’s son Leon was the Faro’s dishwasher and general janitor, so he could have carried dishes for his mom, but nobody really wanted trays of dishes in Leon’s hands, given his well-earned reputation for disaster.

The lunch crowd had largely cleared out of the main room by three, although a few early beer drinkers were seated at the back and one of the Steinbruner brothers was losing a game of pool to a retired pipefitter from El Paso. Chico hadn’t been watching the game, but it went without saying that the Steinbruner was losing. That was one of the rules of the universe.

He pushed through the door to the kitchen. Clem stood at the prep table, slicing onions at breath-taking speed. She frowned in his general direction. “Why are you carrying dishes?”

He shook his head. “Leon shouldn’t touch trays. You know that. We got enough breakage with him as it is.”

“I know. We need a busboy.”

He shrugged. “Not a bad idea. Talk to Tom.”

Clem threw an exasperated look over her shoulder. “Why should I have to talk to Tom? You’re here. You’re co-owner. Hire a damn busboy.”

Chico shifted his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension. “I’m a silent partner and I don’t do personnel stuff. Talk to Tom.”

Clem sighed, shaking her head. “How long are you going to keep this up? I’m surely not the only one who’s figured out you’re a lot more than just a goddamned bouncer. How much of Konigsburg do you own by now, anyway?”

He folded his arms across his chest. At least his tension over Andy was being replaced by annoyance with Clem. “What’s got your back up, Clemencia? It sure as hell isn’t me.”

She sighed, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. “Just tired. Sorry. But we do need a busboy. And a prep assistant for me. We can afford it, right? Business is good.”

“Business is great, and you’re right—we could use a busboy and more kitchen help. I’ll mention it to Tom.”

She gave him a tired smile. “So how are things with you? Who’s the new lady? Heard you were over at the Corral with somebody the other night.”

A quick chill ran down his spine.
Well, hell.
Of course, gossip flowed like beer in Konigsburg. And he was nothing if not noticeable. “Nobody you’d know. What’s up with you and Lucinda these days?”

“Is it that new waitress, what’s her name, Chantal? I thought you were giving her the eye last week.”

He gritted his teeth. In certain moods, Clem was relentless. “I’ll go talk to Tom about that busboy.”

“You do that.”

He heard her snicker as he walked back through the door to the main room.

Of course, by tomorrow everybody in the club would know who he was taking out. Hell, given the way things went, most of Konigsburg would probably know, including his family and hers. He shuddered. He’d spent a lot of time trying to stay out of the limelight around here, and he really didn’t want to be dragged back in, particularly not with everybody speculating about his love life. Of course, he wasn’t exactly an easy man to conceal.

He glanced across the room toward the bar, Tom’s domain. Tom was currently engaged in conversation with a customer, a man whose dark hair curled over the top of his collar. Tom grinned in Chico’s direction, and the customer half turned to look at him.

The Barbecue King. Chico realized suddenly that he’d never seen the man with his hat off. He nodded, pushing his lips into a close approximation of a smile as he tamped down his residual irritation. “How’s it going?”

The King turned to face him, leaning his elbows on the bar behind him. “Can’t complain. You still thinking about that barbecue competition?”

Chico had to give him points for directness. “Thinking about it, sure. Haven’t done anything more, though.”

“I looked into it. Teams can be anywhere from two to six people.”

Chico nodded slowly. “Yeah, I remember that part.”

“So the two of us could be a team.” The King picked up his beer, taking a swig. “Of course, I’d want to taste your pork first. You already know what my beef is like.”

“Pork.” Chico leaned a hand against the bar. “No
cabrito
?”

“Didn’t see a goat category.”

“All right, what are we talking about here? What contest and what team? Hell, what pork, for that matter?” Tom glanced back and forth between them.

“Barbecue cook-off at the Fourth of July celebration,” Chico explained. “It’s a team thing—two blind entries per team.”

“I see. And you guys are thinking of becoming a team?” Tom raised his eyebrows.

The King shrugged. “Seemed like a good possibility. Provided we can reach some agreement about basics.”

Chico narrowed his eyes. “Basics as in what?”

The King raised his hand, counting off on his fingers. “Rub, use of sauce, cooking time, whose rig gets used for what, presence or absence of sides. And so on and so on and so forth.”

Chico shook his head. “Most of that comes under the heading of whatever you want to do, I’d say. I’m not going to dictate your rub. You can leave me alone with mine.”

The King’s lips spread in a slow grin. “Ah, but what if I can come up with a rub that’s better than the one you’re using? I’ve cooked some pork in my time.”

Chico folded his arms across his chest, pulling himself up to his full six-foot-five. It usually worked with drunks he wanted to intimidate. “You won’t.”

“Which is why I need to taste your pork. So you can convince me of that fact.” The King didn’t look even slightly intimidated.

Chico raised his eyebrows. “What makes you the judge on pork? You don’t do it on your food truck.”

“Which doesn’t mean I can’t do it or that I’ve never done it.” The King shrugged. “In fact, I do ribs—just not on the truck. There’s not much demand for any of that at lunch, but I do it when I cater.”

Chico took a breath to blast him, but Tom raised his hand. “Why don’t both of you cook up some ’cue? Like maybe next weekend? You can use the back yard. Clem can judge. Me too. Possibly Deirdre, assuming she’s up to it.”

Tom’s wife, Deirdre, was three months pregnant and not eating as much as she should, in Chico’s opinion. Morning sickness wasn’t likely to be helped by barbecue. He shrugged. “Okay by me.” He turned to the King. “Okay by you?”

“Sure. I don’t run the truck on Sundays—I can have something by next Sunday afternoon. And I think I can maybe get you another judge too—Darcy Cunningham from the Rose.”

Chico narrowed his eyes. “Friend of yours?”

He shook his head. “Business acquaintance. Very tough, believe me.”

“Good enough.” Tom smiled his businessman’s smile. “If it works out, I might agree to set up the Faro as a sponsor for the team.”

Chico frowned. He hadn’t thought of having the Faro be a sponsor. That should have been partly his decision. But commenting on it now would be a clue that he was more than just the bouncer, something he wasn’t ready to admit yet.

“Bring enough for, let’s say, twenty people,” Tom continued. “We’ll make it a party. I’ll see if I can get Clem to fix some side dishes. Should be an interesting evening.”

“Should be a delicious evening,” the King corrected. He took a last swallow of beer, then nodded at Chico. “Talk to you later.”

“Right.”

Tom grinned, watching the King amble out the door. “Gives us all something to look forward to, right?”

Chico gritted his teeth. As far as he could tell, it just gave him something else to worry about. Along with Andy Wells.

Hadn’t he just been complaining about boredom? Those days seemed long gone.

Andy blotted her cheeks with her handkerchief again. She really should have asked Chico how she was supposed to get to the Faro—if she should drive or if he’d pick her up. But for some reason she felt really shy about asking him, and so, well, she hadn’t.

And here she was, walking across town at the hottest part of the day. By the time she got there she’d look like a wrung-out dishrag.

At least if she showed up on foot, Chico would get her home later on. Even if the evening was a complete bust, she knew he’d be honor bound to take care of her. Still, she hoped the evening wasn’t a complete bust.

She pushed open the door to the Faro, pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The room wasn’t full tonight, although several of the tables around the sides were occupied. She could hear muted music from the beer garden, probably the band already underway.

“Table for one?”

The woman who stepped up beside her was absolutely gorgeous. In fact, Andy had never seen anyone that beautiful close up before. Her hair was like black velvet, with shimmering navy highlights. Her eyes looked dark blue in the dim lights, and her lashes were so thick Andy wondered if they were real. Given the rest of the package, she was betting they were.

“I’m looking for Chico,” she blurted.

The woman blinked, then gave her a smile as her glance sharpened. “Oh, right. You must be Andy. Chico said to keep an eye out for you. I’m Deirdre Ames—my husband runs the place.”

Andy suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling Deirdre Ames was checking her out, maybe inspecting her suitability for Chico. If so, she apparently passed. “Chico’s taking care of the band in the garden this evening,” Deirdre explained. “He told me to have you come out and join him.”

“Oh, okay.” Andy fumbled with her purse, wondering if she should make a quick stop at the ladies room to try and repair her hair.

Deirdre Ames smiled at her expectantly.

Andy gave a mental sigh, turning toward the garden. Taking time to primp would definitely establish her as a date, which she wasn’t sure she was. After all, they were just going to sit around the beer garden while Chico did his job.

She saw Chico as soon as she stepped through the door. He stood near the gate, his arms folded across his chest, watching the band with narrowed eyes. Andy glanced at the bandstand. The musicians seemed to be doing okay, for the most part, although they sounded a little like all the other country bands she’d heard over the last couple of years. She wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad.

She worked her way along the edge of the garden until she was standing near enough to be heard over the amplifiers. “Hi.”

His head swiveled toward her. After a moment, he broke into a grin that made her heart do a slight flutter.
Stop that.

“Glad you made it. Here, have a seat.” He motioned her onto a bench next to him, then turned back to the band again, losing his grin.