And then he remembered. He was in the strange little town called Pequoia, in one of the guest bedrooms at Beaumont’s. In Blake Beaumont’s bed. Well, not literally, as much as he would have loved a dream like that to be true. It was the dream he’d just been having, a dream that had been all about her.
“Are you up?” There was another bang at the door and Blake’s voice came through to him, loud and clear.
Ryder cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m up,” he said. “What time is it?”
“Just after six o’clock,” she said. “Time to get moving.”
“Six o’clock? In the morning?”
“No, in the evening. What kind of dumb question is that? Of course, six o’clock in the morning. And we’d better get a move on it before the herd descends.”
With each of Blake’s words Ryder became more confused. He threw back the covers and got out of the four-poster bed then padded barefoot across the cold wooden floor. When he pulled the door open it was to see Blake standing there, fully dressed, looking so fresh and ready for the day it made him wonder if she’d even gone to bed at all.
“Are we going somewhere?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Down to the kitchen. This place will be full of men coming through for breakfast. We’ve got to have it ready by seven o’clock.” Then she gave him an impish smile. “Or should I say, you’ve got to have it ready? You’re the one on breakfast duty.”
"Breakfast… You mean I’m going to have to fix this breakfast you’re talking about?” Ryder stared at her, incredulous.
“Yes, sir. You promised to work off your bill for the night’s accommodation, remember? Well, this is how you’re gonna do it. You’re chef for the day.
Ryder shook his head. “But I don’t know anything about cooking breakfast for a crowd. I’ve only ever done eggs, toast and cereal.”
His declaration seemed to go in one ear and out the other. She didn’t look sympathetic at all. “Well, you’d better learn fast. If these guys don’t like your cooking you’ll hear it from them. You can trust me on that.” Then she turned to go. “Go on and clean up. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
Ryder was opening his mouth to protest but it was no use. She was already disappearing down the hallway, leaving him staring after her. He could only shake his head in disbelief. What in the world had he gotten himself into?
He didn’t have much time to ponder on his dilemma, though. From the little he already knew of Blake he could guess she would be back upstairs in exactly fifteen minutes, pounding on the door again.
How did that saying go? As you make your bed so you must lie in it. Well, he’d gone and made his bed when he’d agreed to work for his keep and he could see it was going to be a tough bed, indeed. The easy thing to do would be to back out but he’d always prided himself on his principles. He would stay and fulfill his commitment, however arduous that might be. He gritted his teeth. He was not looking forward to it.
With that discouraging thought Ryder turned and went back into the bedroom, an ancient-looking place furnished with a canopied four-poster bed, a chest of drawers that looked like an antique and a low oak chest that sat at the foot of the bed. Outside of that, there were two nightstands on either side of the bed and a once colorful rug that was frayed around the edges. It looked almost as old as the town itself.
Quickly, he strode toward the chest and pulled out the supplies Blake had told him would be there and then he went back outside and down the hallway to the ‘guest’ bathroom. That was a generous way of putting it but it made him feel better to think of it in those terms. The plumbing was so ancient he was surprised it actually worked. Pulling on a chain attached to an elevated tank when you had to flush? Ice-cold water flowing through the tap? If he hadn’t been experiencing it first-hand he wouldn’t have believed it. In a developing country, maybe, but the good old U.S. of A.? Sheesh.
Blake had given him fifteen minutes but Ryder was ready in twelve and then, dressed in fresh shirt and trousers but with his denim jacket to shield him from the chilly morning air he descended, not looking forward to the task that lay ahead but not able to do a thing except face his new reality.
“Finally,” Blake said as he stepped inside the kitchen. “I was just getting ready to douse you with a bucket of water.”
“You said fifteen minutes,” Ryder said in his defense. “It’s not even that time yet.”
“You’re sure?” Blake looked at him askance. “I thought I said ten.” Then she stepped behind him and before he knew what was happening she’d tied a frilly white apron around his waist. “Anyway, you’re here now so let’s get you started.” She stepped back. “We usually have about fifteen to twenty men passing through between seven and eight o’clock. This is my busiest time of day.”
“Fifteen to twenty men? You have that many people in this town?”
Blake laughed. “Don’t you underestimate our Pequoia,” she said. “And anyway, some of them aren’t from here. They come in to help work the farms. We haven’t got that many young men who can help out as field hands so we import them from neighboring towns.” She shrugged. “They’re here working in the daytime but by nightfall they’re gone.”
“And who could blame them?” Ryder said the words under his breath, so softly only he could hear.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Blake regarded him with narrowed gaze but said nothing. Then she jerked her chin toward the stove. “Okay, let’s get moving.”
The stove was an ancient-looking contraption, a gas-powered device with monstrously large burners. A massive frying pan was on the front burner and to the back of it sat a deep pot, one you could bathe a small child in.
“That’s for the grits,” Blake said. “You’ll do that with bacon and eggs today. Since you’re new I’ll handle the pancakes.”
“Grits…” He looked around, feeling lost. He’d had grits before but had he ever made the thing? He didn’t even know where to start. “Uhm, what…do I do first?”
Blake gave him a look of impatience. “First you wash your hands and then you come here so I can show you.” When he didn’t jump at her command she gave him a slight shove toward the sink. “Move it. We haven’t got all day.”