Page 46 of A Whiskey River Princess

“Call me Daxton. And don’t be so quick to leave. Whiskey River takes a while to grow on you. But grow on you, it does.” Then he glanced over at Dirk. “I’ll see myself out.”

Dirk smiled his thanks.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Daxton said as he slipped on his cowboy hat and headed toward the front door.

Dirk pulled a clean dishtowel from a drawer and swiped it lightly across her cheeks. “There. That’s better.”

Gabriella looked up into Dirk’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Dirk smiled. “Don’t worry.” He wiped her other cheek, trying not to smile.

“What?” She raised a hand to her cheek. “I must look a fright—”

Dirk held up the dishtowel and black streaks covered it. “I think you got more on you than on the turkey.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

Dirk laughed. “I’ll tell you what. Go get cleaned up and we’ll go to the restaurant for dinner.”

She looked at him sheepishly. “You wouldn’t mind?”

He shook his head and then looked over the kitchen. “I really don’t think we have any other choice.”

“I’m so sorry—”

He took her into his arms, causing her heart to jump. “I was only teasing. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

“I couldn’t imagine.”

More smoke rolled off the stove, causing them both to cough. “Go and I’ll take care of this.”

She bit her lower lip. “Are you sure?”

Fire suddenly blazed from the top of the stove. “Go before the house burns down. I’ll take care of this.”

“Thank you.” She hurried off into the spare bedroom, wondering how she was ever going to learn how to take care of herself… let alone a home.

Gabriella cleaned up as quickly as she could and changed into a burnt orange dress and brown shoes, not feeling very festive. Within moments, she walked into the foyer wearing a long brown coat and topped it off with a burnt orange scarf.Gabriella couldn’t help but think how lucky Dirk’s ex-wife had been to have a man who would dote on her and buy her fine things such as these. Sure, Gabriella had many fine things in Monaco, but she wouldn’t expect to find such things in the wilds of the West.

In the living room, the smoke had cleared. When she stepped into the kitchen, Dirk had put nearly everything away—or had thrown it away—and the kitchen was clean. A draft rushed in through the backdoor.

“I thought I’d air it out a bit more.” Dirk was dressed in a black suit, vest, and trousers, with a white shirt and a western tie, and his collar-length brown hair was combed to perfection.

“You look very handsome,” Gabriella blurted out without thinking. The sight of him dressed so nice awakened something inside her that had laid dormant since her parents had passed… a sense of home. But she pushed the thought aside. After all, she would be leaving soon, once the pass clears.

He smiled as he adjusted his vest. “Thank you. I thought I’d dress for the occasion.”

“The occasion of my disaster?” Gabriella asked, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Dirk smiled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You tried. That’s all that matters. If anyone is to blame—”

“Please, do not tell me it was your fault.” Gabriella let out a deep breath. “I should have learned how to cook long ago.”

Dirk’s smile faded. “Well, it’s never too late to learn.” He extended his arm. “Shall we? We don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

Gabriella’s head snapped up. “Everyone?”

One corner of his lips curled into a smile. “Let’s go.”

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