Page 16 of Tattered and Torn

“That’s okay. I’m good.” My stomach proves otherwise when it lets out a deep growl. Hopefully Killian didn’t hear that.

“How was the trip into town?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“Gabrielle met Maggie? And Jennie and Ruth?”

“Yep. And Ed, too. Oh, and Ryan Emerson. Let’s not forget Ryan.”

Killian gives me an odd look. “Ryan Emerson?” he asks, obviously confused.

“Don’t ask.”

“Gabrielle mentioned you’re driving her to the farmers market in the morning.”

I shrug. “Somebody has to. Did Micah say when he’d be done with the Jeep?”

“He said Monday at the earliest, maybe Tuesday. Why?”

“She needs her own damn set of wheels, that’s why. So I don’t have to be her personal chauffeur.” Those words came out a bit harsher than I’d intended.

“You don’t want to drive her?” Killian frowns. “All right. I’ll do it.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good. And don’t forget about driving her into Denver to the kitchen supply store. I don’t want her makin’ that trip alone. Not until she knows her way around the area.”

“I said I would.” I lean my shovel against the stall wall, probably harder than was necessary. “Killian, is there somethin’ you need? Because I’m busy working here.”

“No, dat’s it.” His Cajun accent slips through. “I was just checkin’ on ya.” He crosses his arms over his chest and gets that mulish expression I’m so familiar with. The one he wears when he’s arguin’ with Hannah. “Go get you some of dat fettuccini, Burke. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order.”

Yep, his Cajun is comin’ through loud and clear. He’s riled up.

“Fine!” I stalk past him as I head for the exit.

Killian follows me out of the barn and across the parking lot to the front entrance of the lodge.

When I stop at the doors, he stops too. “I don’t need an escort to dinner,” I say.

“I’m hungry, too. I thought I’d eat with you. Hannah and I were tied up all evenin’ with the accountant, so I haven’t eaten yet.”

“All right, fine.”

We walk inside and head straight for the restaurant. As we get close, the hum of chatter fills the air. It sounds like the restaurant is doing a good bit of business this evening.

Tammy’s on duty at the host podium. “Just you two handsome fellas?”

“Yes,” I say, making a point of not biting her head off. What I want to say is, Do you see any other people with us? But I don’t. Because that would be rude. And I don’t want to be rude in Gabrielle’s restaurant—she might hear me.

“Just us,” Killian says, giving Tammy a friendly smile.

“Come with me, guys,” she says, and she leads us to a corner table near the French doors that lead out onto the deck, where there are lots of picnic tables for those wanting to dine outside.

“Aren’t you going to take your hat off?” Killian asks as we take our seats.

I shake my head, but don’t say anything.

“Things are looking up,” Killian observes. “Pasta tonight. And who knows what she’ll make next. Gabrielle said she’s going to get some of Jennie’s pies.”

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