Wild Man Creek (Virgin River #14)(81)

For the first time since he’d met the man, Shiloh smiled and his eyes were warm. “Splendid. Now we’ll have dinner at my home and talk.”

Kelly made gourmet pizza for Denny and he raved about it; he said it was heaven. Then while Denny helped Jack serve a dinner Preacher had made earlier in the day, Kelly fixed a special menu for Preacher, Paige and the two little ones. For the appetizer, she prepared the same tray she had originally made for Colin and Jillian—her sampler.

“I have to learn how to make these stuffed grape leaves. And the stuffed mushrooms,” Preacher said, inhaling the food. “Do you think anyone at Jack’s would eat them?”

“They’ll eat anything that’s good, John,” his wife said.

Their first course was cream of pumpkin soup, then salad, then chicken Parmesan with anchovies, black olives and asparagus tips. For dessert, her special lemon cake with coffee. He raved through the meal, then finally sat back in his chair and rubbed his belly. “Oh, my God,” he said most reverently. “I think I’m beginning to see the problem with full-time work in a diner. As the cook, I almost never sit down to a full meal. I taste all day. I’m never stuffed and never hungry. I just ate like a pig!”

“I can’t wait to see what you make for me tomorrow night,” Kelly said.

“Well, I’m torn between a Thanksgiving dinner or a Christmas dinner, my true specialties,” he said. “Thanksgiving is turkey with all the trimmings, Christmas is duck. I have a couple of ducks in the freezer from January. They’d be better fresh, but you’d get the idea.”

“Duck!” Kelly said. “How will you prepare it?”

Preacher straightened proudly. “I’ve made a few adjustments in a recipe I found—it’s awesome. Be surprised.”

“I can’t wait!”

“One of these visits, we’ll have to have a cook-off,” he said.

“We will do that one day, whether here or in San Francisco. Chefs in mutual admiration entertain each other that way.”

The next day Preacher made ribs, corn, beans, coleslaw and corn bread for the bar crowd’s dinner while he prepared his special duck dinner for Kelly and Jillian. He planned to feed them in the kitchen at his workstation. When Kelly and Jillian arrived at Jack’s, they sat at the bar to enjoy a glass of wine while Preacher put the finishing touches on his dinner.

“This cooking competition has Preacher all wound up,” Jack told them. “I’ve never seen him more excited. He told me to try to keep you busy for another twenty minutes.”

“Jack,” Kelly said in a whisper. “Are you capable of sneaking me a sampler of his rib dinner?”

Jack leaned close and whispered back, “No. No way he’d let me do that. He told me not to let you have anything to spoil your taste buds before dinner. He even asked for this particular wine for you. I think he’s been researching again. Eat his duck then ask him for a sample. He’ll let you taste the ribs after you’ve had his dinner.”

She smiled. “That’s exactly what I would have done! God, I love the way he runs this place.” To Jack’s flummoxed expression she amended, “I meant the two of you, of course.”

Jillian laughed. “Don’t let her kid you, Jack. Chefs always think they’re running the whole store. They allow that the owners and managers might contribute something, but not anything of particular importance.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of how it sounds around here.”

While Kelly and Jillian made small talk with Jack as they waited for Preacher to be ready, Kelly happened to see a man on the far side of the room, seated in the corner. He was alone as far as she could tell and there was something about him—something either familiar or engaging. She liked his looks, that much she knew. He appeared to be a big guy; his hair was a reddish-blond and he had a bit of stubble on his face. She realized she was strangely attracted to him, even though she didn’t consider herself available for attraction. He was the guy on the Brawny paper towel package. And though she was staring at him, he wasn’t looking her way. He was watching a young girl at the jukebox and he wasn’t smiling.

Just then the girl left the jukebox and came to the bar, boldly inserting herself between Kelly and Jillian. “Got any cool tunes?” she asked with a curl of the lip.

Jack leaned on the bar and looked over at her. “Well, let’s see, Courtney. This is a bar. That means the over-twenty-one crowd. That means what’s in the juke is cool. I guess you’re outta luck.”

She glared at him briefly and then muttered, “Lame.” Then she turned and stomped out the door.

The Brawny man came over to the bar, but he didn’t rudely interrupt anyone’s conversation. Rather, he stood at the end of the bar and waited for Jack. He pulled out a couple of twenties and Jack moved down to get them.

“Let me get you some change, Lief,” Jack said.

“Forget it, Jack. Thanks for dinner. Exceptional. Tell the cook those are the best ribs I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Jack said.

When the man left, Kelly turned to Jack. “Was it my imagination or was that young girl a real B.I.T.C.H?”

Jack was scowling. “You don’t need any imagination to come up with that.”

All the way back to the house after dinner, Kelly raved about Preacher’s duck, wild rice, creamed onions and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce. She’d also tried his ribs, beans and corn bread. Being a seasoned taster, she hadn’t stuffed herself. “He’s one of those natural cooks,” she told Jillian. “He trained himself and knows exactly what to do, when to do it and how to do it. He has an expert palate. I’m impressed. And his stuff isn’t real fancy, but it’s exactly right for that bar. Exactly.”