Lily and the Lawman Read online

  “Then he should learn or he has no business cooking,” she snapped.

  Hot and sweaty, ready to sink her teeth into a meaty argument—or any argument at all—Lily brushed the falling hair out of her eyes and looked up.

  Her eyes widened when she saw Max standing in the doorway, scrutinizing her.

  Chapter Four

  Lily wiped the perspiration from her forehead, trying not to feel self-conscious. Damn the Lawman, he would come by just when she looked her worst. The man had to have radar.

  “What are you doing here?”

  His eyes swept over her in long, studied strokes that she could almost feel.

  He took a little longer than usual. Max was accustomed to taking in everything and everyone he encountered. It was a habit learned not so much in his profession, but from living out in the wilderness. There one miscalculation could be deadly, one mistake could be the last. Alaska was a mistress that none could afford to take for granted or to underestimate, even while enjoying her.

  A little, maybe, he mused, like the woman in front of him right now.

  She looked better, more human, with her hair clipped back haphazardly like that. The crisp suit she’d worn on the plane was gone, as was the pricy red-leather, three-quarter-length coat. He liked the outfit she had on better. The light blue T-shirt with the daisy in the middle and the jeans, both damp with perspiration, molded themselves to her body, sticking even closer than the small size would have warranted.

  The suit she’d worn earlier had only hinted at the curves she possessed. The clothes she had on now flaunted them. Max had a hunch she wasn’t even aware of it or how appealing she looked.

  Made him rather glad he’d finally given in to Luc’s badgering and agreed to drop by the Salty instead of going with his first inclination, which was to pass. But passing would have meant insulting not only Alison and Jimmy, but Luc and April as well, which in turn would have only insulted more people. That’s how it was in Hades, everyone in town was somehow connected to everyone else. It was a little like taking the bottom orange out of the pile. No matter how isolated you might think that orange was, all the other oranges always came tumbling down at your feet in the blink of an eye.

  So he’d allowed himself to have his arm twisted and then, on top of that, he’d let April browbeat him into going into the kitchen to fetch the missing guest of honor, although why one of the others couldn’t do it was beyond him.

  Looking at her now, he wasn’t all that sorry he’d been sent.

  “I drew the short straw,” he said in answer to the question she’d fired at him. He nodded toward the door that led into the saloon. “They sent me in to get you.”

  “‘They’?” It couldn’t have been Jimmy or Alison. They knew better.

  “Alison, Jimmy, Luc, April.” He shrugged, wondering how many names she wanted. “‘They.”’ He had to admit the aroma coming from Lily’s general vicinity was tempting. He couldn’t decide if it belonged to her or what she had cooking on the stove. “Everyone’s outside, waiting to meet you.”

  He meant the people in the bar. She glanced back at the two giant iron pots she had simmering. Had she made enough?

  “How many in an ‘everyone’?”

  The question and the tone behind it surprised him. Was she being shy? He wouldn’t have pegged her as that, but then, he supposed bravado was the flip side of shyness. Maybe she had just been putting on a show earlier, though God knew it hadn’t been for his benefit.

  He shrugged in answer to her question. “Right now maybe about a hundred and fifty people. That’s about all the Salty can really accommodate at one time.” And even so, they were fairly stuffed in as it was. Made maneuvering around tricky. Max grinned as he considered the thought of her being shy. Shy like a cobra, probably. “Don’t worry, they won’t bite.”

  She paused to stir the closest iron pot in front of her, then dipped her ladle in for a taste. Lily blew on the tip of it, then took the tiniest bit on her tongue. Damn it, she was right. It did need cayenne pepper and that mousy little man Luc had left to help her had disappeared on her.

  “They’d better,” she informed him, looking around to see where Isaac had gotten to, “after all the trouble I’ve just gone through.”

  The din from the saloon was leeching into the kitchen, making it impossible to hear her. Max came closer, tilting his head slightly. “Come again?”

  Was he a complete idiot? What did he think she was doing here, wearing an apron and stirring? “The sauce.” She indicated the two giant pots. “Luc said he was going to make spareribs for tonight and he wasn’t happy about the sauce.”

  She frowned as she glanced back at the unopened jars of common barbecue sauce that took up two of the pantry shelves. No wonder there wasn’t any room for cayenne pepper. Luc was a terrific guy, one of the few who were, she could readily testify, but his taste buds were tragically plebeian.

  She snorted distastefully. “He had a reason not to be happy.”

  Max crossed to the counter and picked up one of the jars. He read the label before putting it down again. “What’s wrong with this? I use it myself.”

  She looked at him as if he’s just admitted to polishing his boots with bear grease. Without realizing it, she lifted her chin and slanted her eyes as she looked at him.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  The woman’s tone was nothing if not smug. He had a sudden urge to drain the smugness from her. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued regarding her.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Moving past him, she began to rummage through the pantry herself, hoping to unearth the elusive cayenne pepper—if there was such a thing to be had up here. She’d temporarily forgotten where she was.

  She lifted a shoulder carelessly in response to his question and let it fall again. “You don’t exactly strike me as someone with discerning taste.”

  Coming closer, Max gave her a long look that made her very aware of the fact that her T-shirt could have been a lot looser. She could almost feel his eyes traveling over her.

  “That all depends,” he told her slowly, “on what we’re talking about.”

  She could feel the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. It took her a moment to push the words out of her mouth. “The subject is food.”

  She had beautiful eyes, he realized. He hadn’t noticed that before. And her skin was as white as the snow on the summit in February. It was obvious she wasn’t the outdoors type.

  He felt his palms grow itchy and wasn’t sure why. “If by that you mean I’m one of those people who eats to live instead of lives to eat, then yes, you’re right. I’m not very discerning.”

  But he was very unsettling. She needed to get him out of the kitchen and out of her way. Having him here was only muddying up her mind.

  Lily dipped her ladle into the pot again. “Come here,” she ordered.

  Mildly amused at her tone, he gave her a sharp salute, which only served to irritate her further. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Taste.” But as he started to do as she said, she suddenly cried, “Stop,” and then lightly blew on the sauce in the ladle. Satisfied that it was now the right temperature, she offered it to him again. “You would have burned your tongue,” she accused.

  He paused before sampling. “You know, Lily, you’d get on a whole lot better with people if everything you said didn’t sound like a criticism.”

  Taking her hand to steady the spoon she was holding, Max took a small taste. Expecting something mildly pleasing, he was surprised to find that his taste buds were suddenly very aroused. It felt as if there was a party going on in his mouth. He doubted that he had ever tasted anything quite so appealing.

  Unconsciously, his eyes shifted to her lips, his thoughts taking him to unexpected regions. Max found himself wondering if kissing Lily would somehow result in the same overwhelmingly pleasing surprise.

  Some things, though, were better left unexplored.


  He nodded his approval of the sauce. “This is damn good.”

  Vindicated, she tossed her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her hand had trembled just the slightest bit when his fingers had closed over it. There was something very unsettling about this man.

  Just you being vulnerable and scared, Lily, nothing more, her inner voice told her. That bastard did a number on you, stripped you of your self-esteem and it’s just going to take you a while to get back on your feet again, that’s all. And whatever else he is, this backwoodsman with a tin badge is a hunk.

  Her inner voice had a way of understating things, Lily thought.

  “Yes,” she acknowledged haughtily, “I know.” She looked at her hand. He was still holding it and the ladle. “Can I have my hand back now, please?”

  His eyes seemed to touch her as Max pulled back his fingers, releasing her. “Sure thing.”

  Suddenly oxygen-depleted, Lily took a deep breath. There just wasn’t enough air in this kitchen, she thought accusingly.

  “And everything I say doesn’t sound like a criticism,” she insisted. And just where did he get off, analyzing her like that? Just because he wore an official-looking piece of tin didn’t give him any jurisdiction over her.

  “Oh, no? Then maybe you should invest in a tape recorder so you can hear it for yourself.” He saw her bristle. He might have known that she would. “You get twice as many flies with honey—”

  She dropped the ladle on the counter noisily. “I’m sure there are more than enough flies around here to give credence to your theory, but I don’t particularly want any of them. I’m neither a frog nor a spider, which means that I’m just not in the market for flies. I don’t like flies,” she said with finality, hoping that put him in his place. A place that was far away from her.

  He watched as color crept up her neck and into her cheeks. It blended nicely with the whiteness. “Works with people, too. Or don’t you like those, either?”

  “Some,” she qualified, looking at him pointedly. “I have discerning taste.”

  He watched the color spread along her cheeks and caught himself wanting to trace it with his fingers. The itch in his palms intensified. “Then maybe you should see about broadening your horizons.”

  She tossed her head, sending the clip that was holding her hair back flying.

  “My horizons are just fine the way they are.”

  He vaguely recalled there being a line about a lady protesting too much. She most definitely wasn’t fine. “Then why did you allow someone like that peacock of a surgeon you brought with you to your sister’s wedding to do a number on you?”

  Her eyes widened. How dare he? How dare he? Where did he get off asking her questions about her life, her choices?

  “How…who—why—” She was too speechless to form a coherent sentence.

  It didn’t take a genius to fill in the blanks. “Your brother told me. That’s the how and the who. The why is that he’s worried about you and he needed to share that with someone.”

  Then why didn’t he talk to Alison, or even Luc? Why to this man of all people? “Nobody has to worry about me.”

  The more she protested, the more obvious that the opposite was true. “Oh, I’m sure it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. Everyone needs someone to worry about them. It’s what makes the world go around.”

  Unable to stand there just looking up at him, Lily turned away. There was steam rising from one of the two pots. She turned the flame even lower.

  “I thought love was supposed to do that,” she said sarcastically.

  Max cut the distance between them to nothing. Standing behind her, he found himself intrigued by the slope of her neck, the breadth of her shoulders. She really did seem slight.

  A stick of dynamite was slight, too, he reminded himself.

  “Haven’t you heard, caring’s part of love.” Reaching around her, he loosened the ties of her apron.

  Lily jumped as he made contact with her and turned to face him. The stove at her back, she found herself standing much too close to Max for comfort.

  She managed to dig up her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Max tugged on the apron strings, loosening them even more. “My job.”

  Her heart began pounding wildly again. You’d think that she was running instead of standing still, having words with a Neanderthal lawman.

  “Your job is to harass me?”

  “No, I told you.” Max smiled at her. “They sent me in to fetch you.”

  “And that’s your job?”

  Why did her heart feel as if it was about to come bursting out of her chest? She knew what this was. This was attraction, damn it. She didn’t want to be attracted to this man. She didn’t want to be attracted to any man, ever again, least of all one who seemed content to not be going anywhere.

  Max inclined his head. “For the moment.”

  That made him an errand boy. “I thought you said you were the sheriff.”

  “I am.”

  If she was trying to get him to lose his temper, it was an exercise in futility. He picked his battles and his causes. Exchanging words with a pampered, stressed-out prima donna wasn’t remotely on par with things that really mattered to him.

  “And I told you that being sheriff entailed doing a little bit of almost everything. Around here, it means being there for the people when they need you. Right now, Alison and Jimmy need you to be outside this kitchen.” He debated adding the crowning touch, then decided she should be able to handle it. “Luc just asked you for help in the kitchen to make you feel more comfortable.”

  She did feel more comfortable in the kitchen. You knew what to expect when you were cooking, knew what combining certain ingredients would yield. There wasn’t that aura of certainty when you mixed together a man and a woman.

  Look at the mistake she’d made the one time she’d decided to forge ahead and reach for the brass ring that represented marriage and a family. She’d fallen right off the merry-go-round and gotten trampled by the horses.

  But comfortable or not, she didn’t like what he was implying. Her eyes narrowed into angry slits as she looked at him. “I don’t need charity.”

  What did it take to get this woman to step off her high horse? Max had a feeling that she had the potential to be someone really nice if she gave herself half a chance.

  “It wasn’t charity, unless you call worrying about family charity.” Loosened of its ties around her waist, the apron was still hanging around her neck. Very gently, his eyes on hers, Max began to remove the remaining tie around her neck.

  Mesmerized, Lily couldn’t drag her eyes from his. Her breath stilled in her lungs. And then, as if someone had snapped their fingers and made her come to, she grabbed the apron away from him and held it against her chest as if he’d just stripped her naked.

  “I’m not finished.”

  “Isaac here can finish up for you.” He looked at the man, an ex-miner who cooked like one. “Can’t you, Isaac?”

  The man nodded.

  Lily twisted her head around to see that Isaac had mysteriously materialized again, just as mysteriously as he had disappeared a few minutes ago. Exasperated, she waved a hand at the small man. Telling him to watch her sauce was like giving matches to an adolescent pyromaniac and asking him to tend the home fires.

  “How can he finish up?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. “The man said he doesn’t even know what cayenne pepper is.”

  “The people out there—” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the saloon “—didn’t come to renew their acquaintance with cayenne pepper, they came to make your acquaintance.”

  She dug in stubbornly, saying black just because he was saying white. “They met me at Alison’s wedding.”

  “All right then, they came to renew their acquaintance with you.” He looked at her pointedly, the barest hint of a smile on his rugged face. Or maybe she was just imagining it. “Don’t make me use my gun, Lily. Things cou
ld get ugly then.”

  She looked at him, stunned. Taking her hand in his, he began to pull her out of the kitchen.

  “No, wait,” she protested. “I look awful.”

  The half smile turned into a grin as he tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, then pretended to survey his handiwork. And her.

  “Awful never looked so good.”

  Lily wanted to protest again, to pull back, but she found herself being ushered out instead, unable to impede his progress in any way. It was as if she was a pull toy and he held the string.

  She walked out of the cocooning heat of the kitchen into the smoky saloon, instantly engulfed in a cylinder of noise that came at her from all directions.

  At first, it was hard making sense of any of it, but slowly, voices began to emerge, fragments of conversations floated by her. If not for the smoke, it wasn’t all that different, she supposed, from the dining area in her restaurant.

  Except that she wasn’t in control here.

  The instant the door closed behind her, sealing her into this place of dark mahogany, polished wooden floors and mingling bodies, she heard a piercing whistle behind her.

  She closed her eyes, knowing that the sound had come from Max and that he was calling for everyone’s attention. Opening her eyes again, she forced a smile to her lips, wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the kitchen.

  She felt Max’s hands on her shoulders, propelling her forward. She felt like a prize steer at the county fair, or whatever it was they did out here for entertainment.

  “Listen up everyone, this is Alison and Jimmy’s sister, Lily. She’s been working her tail off in the kitchen just for you. For once, you’re going to have something to eat here other than dried-out beef.”

  “What’s wrong with dried-out beef?” one of the people at the bar wanted to know. “I like jerky.”

  “You look like jerky,” someone else hooted, and a wall of laughter went up.

  “Doesn’t take much to amuse them, does it?” Lily whispered to Max.

  Her warm breath on his skin made his stomach contract for a moment. He disregarded it as he leaned forward so that she could hear him.