Free The Chef's Mail Order Bride: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 1) by Cindy Caldwell

his hand. “I don’t see any blood, but you’ll have a bump to match the one on the other side.” She smiled at him, surprised that she felt relieved he wasn’t injured.
    “Maybe I should move the pot racks,” he said as his own smile widened.
    “Being a chef isn’t exactly supposed to be dangerous, so maybe it would be a good idea.”
    She took a seat on one of the stools next to the chopping table. The kitchen in Tripp’s house was really just a smaller version of the one at the restaurant, and he certainly knew his way around—except when trying to avoid bumping his head.
    He stirred whatever it was on the stove and held out the spoon for her to taste it. “Here, see if you like this.”
    She blew on it for a moment until it stopped steaming quite so much and closed her eyes, ready for anything. She smiled, surprised that it was delicious—and then felt a pang of guilt that she might expect anything other.
    “It’s delicious, Tripp. Is that for the opening tonight?”
    He put the spoon back in the pot. “Oh, no. That’s for us for lunch. It’s a cream sauce and goes over the chicken. Everything is ready at the restaurant until I get there later, and I was a little nervous. And when I’m nervous, I cook.”
    She turned toward the cupboard and took out some bowls, quick to hide her smile. She was the same way, and had gone to the restaurant early to ward off her anxiety, and was delighted to find that he’d done the same. And especially grateful that he’d made something for them both for lunch—and felt another twang of guilt at the thought. She’d not made anything for him. In fact, she hadn’t even told him what she’d been doing.
    Shaking off the thought, she set the bowls down next to the pot, and the spoons and napkins on the butcher block. The few times they actually had eaten there, they’d sat in the kitchen, where they both seemed to feel more comfortable and they could continue to make things, grab condiments and enjoy their meal.
    It was starting to feel comfortable to her, and she asked and he answered questions about the menu, hoping to keep his nerves quiet. It was a big night, after all. One he’d been anticipating for a very long time.
    They finished eating, and he’d insisted that she rest for a bit before she headed back to the restaurant. “Are you sure?” she’d asked him as he grabbed his coat and his hat. “I think I’m all right to come with you.”
    “No, no, definitely not. It might be a late night, although it should be very small and end early. It’s only the few people that I’ve invited. Kind of a soft opening, so it won’t be horribly busy while I get familiar with the menu.”
    “Oh, I meant to tell you, a friend of yours came by today and I invited him to the opening tonight,” she said as she thought of Hank and her promise to him. “He asked me to give you his regards. Said he hadn’t seen you for a long time and used to ride the trail with you.”
    “Oh? I haven’t been back all that long, I guess. Who was it?” he said as he put his hat on.
    “His name was Hank. Hank Archer,” she said and she smiled as he laughed.
    “Ah, good old Hank. He rode the trail with me, and helped me out a lot when I needed it. After…” He stopped, putting his coat on. “Well, it’ll be nice to see him.”
    She watched him, wishing she knew what had happened. “He asked if he could bring a guest, and I said it was all right. I hope I did the right thing,” she said as she looked up at him.
    He opened the door and started to walk out, but stopped, turned around and gave Sadie a quick peck on the cheek. “That’s fine. Just fine. He’s a friend. And thank you for everything, Sadie,” he said as he closed the door behind him.
    The heat rose in her cheeks as she brought her hand to where he’d kissed her. Her brows furrowed at the butterflies in her stomach. Why would they be there? Yes, he was handsome, and yes, he was a very good chef, but he hadn’t