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Nash wanted to tell the ranch owner the night in the barn had been perfect. But then it might give the people at the table a hint as to why it had been so perfect. He wasn’t the kind of guy to kiss and tell. If he knew anything about Londyn, her privacy was important to her, too.
He stood and rounded the table to hold Londyn’s chair as she rose to her feet. They gathered their plates and cups.
“Don’t worry about the dishes; we’ll take care of them,” Mitchell said. “You need to get your mare ready for the trip.”
“Thanks, but we can at least carry our things into the kitchen.” Nash followed Londyn into the kitchen.
Cookie stood before a huge sink with his arms up to his elbows in soapy water. When they set their plates and cups beside him, he gave them a grateful grin. “Thanks. Did you get enough to eat?”
Londyn touched his shoulder. “More than enough. Thank you for making such a tasty breakfast.”
“Yes,” Nash said. “Better than any chow hall food I’ve had.”
Cookie laughed. “Funny you should say that. I learned to cook in a Navy chow hall.”
“Then the Navy had far superior food than the Army.” Nash clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Thank you for your service.”
Cookie rinsed the soap off his hands and dried them on a towel. He stuck out his clean hand. “And thank you for your service.”
Nash gripped it with a firm handshake. When he let go, he turned, placed a hand on the small of Londyn’s back and escorted her out the kitchen door.
“Wait just a minute,” Cookie called out.
Nash and Londyn turned back into the kitchen.
Cookie ducked into a pantry and emerged with two bright red apples and a bag of grapes. He gave them a crooked grin. “Mitch said you wanted some grapes to snack on while you’re traveling. The apples are for your horse.”
When Londyn’s face flushed red, Nash fought the urge to laugh out loud. He took the offerings from the cook, holding onto the bag of grapes and handing the apples to Londyn. “Thank you for your kindness. We’ll definitely enjoy the grapes.”
“Yes, thanks. Butterscotch loves apples,” Londyn said and spun toward the exit.
Nash followed Londyn through the door and out onto the wraparound porch.
Londyn refused to look at him as she crossed the porch to the stairs. “We used to have a cook at the ranch,” she said, clearly changing the subjects. “When he retired and moved to Florida to be closer to his children, Gramps and I shared the responsibility to keep our ranch hands fed.”
“It’s like I said,” Nash grinned. “Food is fuel.”
“For the body as well as the soul.” She laughed softly, her eyes getting glassy with moisture. “Gramps always said that. His repertoire in the kitchen wasn’t vast, but it was hearty and always felt like home. He worked as hard in the kitchen as he did outside. After our cook left, he never expected me to take over the cooking as a woman’s duty. I did my share, though. We both washed dishes, taking turns over who would wash and who would dry.”
“I think I would’ve liked your grandfather,” Nash said as they descended the steps and crossed to the barn. “You never talk about your grandmother. If it’s a sore subject, you don’t have to answer.”
“Oh, it’s not a sore subject at all. She died when my mother was a young teen. I never met her. My grandfather didn’t talk about her. I think he loved her so much that, when she died, he had a hard time getting over it. I’ve seen pictures of her when she was younger. My mother looked just like her.”
“That had to be hard for your grandfather. He had to see his wife in your mother’s face.”
Londyn nodded. “An everyday reminder of the woman he’d lost. It probably led to the rift between them. Once she left the ranch, she didn’t come back until Gramps’ funeral.”
Nash opened the barn door and held it for Londyn to enter.
“Do you and your mother get along?” Nash asked.
“Of course. Once she let me go live at the ranch, we got along better than ever. I visited her in LA during the holidays and spoke with her on the phone at least once a week. I love her.” Londyn grimaced. “I just can’t live her lifestyle. Which I’m sure is a great disappointment to her.”
Londyn stopped in front of Butterscotch’s stall. The mare whinnied and stuck her head over the door.
“Hey, sweet girl.” Londyn held out an apple.
The mare took the fruit and crunched it between her teeth while Londyn rubbed her nose. “Are you ready to go home?”
