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“No,” Grady said, firmly. “You’ve been bustling around for hours, and I’m tired of running into all these goddamn people.”
A moment later, the clatter of a bell rang through the air. Avery cupped her hands around her mouth.
“Food! Come and get it!”
One long buffet table had been set up outside the bunkhouse, piled with hamburgers, pickles, potato salad, and corn on the cob.
“Did you do this?” I asked. “The planning committee usually orders takeout for lunch when we’re setting up.”
“It was Avery’s suggestion. Our ranch hands eat enough for a small army, so she thought we might as well provide lunch for the whole festival crew.”
“She really has you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”
Grady narrowed his eyes but didn’t reply. He would never admit out loud that his daughter would always have his heart in her hands.
I started toward the buffet table but Grady steered me in the direction of the house instead.
“That’s for everyone else,” he said. “I have something different in mind for you.”
Before I could protest, Grady slid his hand down my forearm and laced our fingers together. My heart leaped into my throat. The heat of his rough palm felt scorching hot against my skin as he led me up to the porch. A private spread waited for us there, with golden brown pillowy bread rolls, thick cuts of steak, mashed potatoes swimming in butter and chives, and a blackberry pie glistening with chunky sugar crystals.
“This looks wonderful,” I said. “Thank you, Grady.”
“You should thank my cook, not me. He planned the whole thing. It’s been…well, a few years since I’ve entertained a lady like this.”
He removed his hat and combed his hand through his hair, smoothing it back—a surprisingly vulnerable gesture for a big, gruff man like him. I admired the fact that he maintained some semblance of humility, granting credit where credit was due. It would have been easy for him to dismiss his cook as nothing more than an employee.
When I pulled my chair out, Grady did the same and sat across from me. He held his hat for a moment awkwardly, casting around for a place to put it. Then he set it on the porch railing behind him.
My gaze shifted past his shoulder to see Avery, frozen mid-step, with a plate of food in her hand as she stared at us.
“I think your daughter just realized what you’re doing,” I said.
Grady turned around to look, then started cutting into his steak.
“Avery was bound to figure it out sooner or later.”
“And you’re not concerned about wagging tongues? You seemed like a private man to me. Ash Ridge is a small town and people love to talk. If you’re not careful, people will say the Harvest Festival is really a wedding in disguise.”
Grady paused. For a moment, I thought he might be reconsidering our date. Then he dragged his gaze up to my face.
“If you’re looking for an escape—”
“I’m not.”
“As I recall, you said you weren’t scared of the big bad wolf.”
I picked up my fork and dug into the fluffy mashed potatoes to prove my point.
“I still think you’re as harmless as a lamb.”
Grady choked on his food and cleared his throat.
“Harmless? I can safely say no one has ever accused me of that before.”
“It probably has something to do with the scowl permanently etched into your face.”
“Sounds like you’re calling me old,” he countered.
