“Sorry, Aurelia,” Dean says.
I look up to see him tipping his hat, a contrite look on his face. “You can call me Aura.”
His blue eyes widen. “Nickname privileges. I’m flattered.”
“Get over here and make yourself useful. Put those tortilla chips in a bowl and get some bowls and cutlery out.” Quint doesn’t even turn away from the pot he’s stirring on the stove as he bosses his friend around.
“Yes, sir.”
Rich warm spices fill the air as the guys work away, and my mouth waters. This is nice. I spend so many meals alone or with an employee, I’d forgotten how good a meal could be when you spend it with family or friends. And not at some fancy restaurant. Just home.
The kitchen is large, big enough to hold an eight-person table, and I’m staring dreamily out the window when Quint and Dean walk over, arms laden with steaming bowls.
My stomach lets out a little rumble as Quint places one in front of me. He laughs.
“Sorry, didn’t know how hungry I was until you started cooking.”
“It’s the fresh ranch air. It’ll do that to you. Plus the exertion of riding.”
“So, how did the morning go?” Dean asks. There’s a spoon halfway to his mouth, but he’s looking at me curiously.
“Good,” I say.
But Quint leans forward, hair flopping over his forehead. “She did amazing. I’m really impressed for a first day.”
The compliment has me squirming a bit, so I try to brush it off. “Like I said, I’ve had lots of physical training. Strength, balance.” I stuff a heaping spoonful of chili in my mouth and it explodes with flavor. A zippy heat burns my tongue in the best way.
“You don’t need to explain it away. You’re doing great.”
Right. I nod.
“And what were you up to? Napping on the job?” Quint turns to his friend. “Magically appearing for a free lunch.”
“Hey, I was working my ass off while you two were having fun. The stalls don’t muck themselves, and we’ve got quite of few mares needing extra attention right now.”
“Sure, sure.” Quint continues to shovel in the delicious chili.
Their teasing friendship is comfortable, lived in, but I don’t feel unwelcome or uncomfortable like I might if I crashed a tight Hollywood friendship.
Then Dean turns to me. “You like live music?”
I do, but I don’t get out to concerts too much anymore. It’s such a hassle. “I’m no aficionado, but I love music.” After all, I’ve been surrounded by it most of my life, between musical theater classes and performing arts school. And that makes me think of Abby, my songwriting college bestie, who I have been rather out of touch with lately.
“Cool. You should come out to The Grove with us tonight. It’ll be fun.”
Quint turns to me with a glint in his eyes. He comes across as steady and mature a lot of the time, but sometimes his excitement bubbles over like this and I remember he’s six years younger than me and fresh out of college. “You totally should.”
“I don’t know. Going out in public like that? Seems like it might be a bad idea.”
He shakes his head. “It’s Balsam Grove. There are no reporters hanging around. Just a nice little bar, the town folks. Nobody will even bat an eye at you.”
I’m torn. I would love to get away from the hotel, get out and explore the little town some more. It would help me get a better feel for small town life. Really, I could call it research.
“Maybe.”
A huge smile spreads across Quint’s face, giving him that boyish look again. “Awesome.”
Lunch goes by so fast. It’s easy being with them as they chat about the ranch, the horses. I never feel like I’m left out as Dean asks me aboutPaisley Creek, and for the firsttime in a while I remember the good things about my time on my show. The times before the toxic showrunner took over and Brad cheated on me.
