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But you…
No more. What was done was done, and she’d move on. But this was the end of it. There’d be no more dallying with Liam Dempsey. She needed to return to common sense, to practicality, to rationality.
To being plain old, everyday Ruth Colbert again.
Plain old, everyday Ruth Colbert was boring. And bored.
She gritted her teeth. Boring wasn’t bad. Passion always caused trouble. It was a distraction. And she didn’t need any more distractions in her life.
She was done. Once was enough. With any luck they could both forget this had happened.
Even though she had a feeling that forgetting Liam would be a bitch. And even though the voice at the back of her mind kept telling her it would also be a big mistake.
Chapter Two
Ruth took a long look at the latest sandwich plate from her struggling short-order cook. It wasn’t bad. It definitely wasn’t bad. She couldn’t say it was good, though. The lettuce looked a little bedraggled, and there was way too much mayonnaise. Plus, it was mayonnaise, not the aioli they’d promised on the menu. The meat was okay, although it was sliced a little thicker than Ruth liked. The cheese… Well, it was her own cheese, and in her opinion, it was hard to ruin good goat cheese.
Hard, but not impossible.
She sighed. Barbara Jean had been in charge of lunch for a couple of months now. And her burgers and grilled cheese were decent, even though she was having a little problem with the melted chevre on the latter. But the kind of food the Salty Goat put out was not the kind of food that Barbara Jean liked to cook. And it wasn’t the kind of food Barbara Jean wanted to cook, either. They were well on their way to an impasse.
Sooner or later, it would all come to a head. Ruth would crack and send Barbara Jean on her way, or Barbara Jean would get fed up and head down the road to a diner or a coffee shop that appreciated her talents.
And Ruth would be stuck finding herself another cook. Again.
Ever since her chef, Honoria, had left for a new life in Las Vegas, she’d been struggling to find a replacement. The Salty Goat was a deli—most of the sales were in cheese and meat, with the occasional baguette and chocolate chip cookie. The café only did meal service at noon, although the deli did a good business in midmorning coffee and pastries, along with a lot of takeout and desserts in the late afternoon.
Which was another problem, since Barbara Jean was not a pastry cook and had no interest in becoming one. Ruth had been buying pastries from a commercial bakery in Durango as a temporary fill-in. Her regular customers hadn’t said anything, but they could probably tell the difference.
If only she could convince Angel Lomax to bake a few scones and a muffin or two. But Angel’s specialty at her bakery was bread—the wonderful bread they used for the sandwiches that Barbara Jean was currently screwing up, as well as the baguettes they sold in the afternoon.
Ruth sighed again. Her kitchen situation was an ongoing problem, one she undoubtedly wouldn’t solve today. But she was going to have to come up with something soon if she didn’t want to lose her customers or her mind.
Or both.
The front door slapped shut and she turned to see her daughter slouching toward the deli counter. Carol was supposed to be sleeping late. She’d come back from visiting her grandparents in Colorado Springs the night before in a foul mood. Given the way David’s parents indulged their only grandchild, Carol was usually happy to visit, but this time her father was supposed to visit while she was there and hadn’t. It was classic David—promise the moon and then get caught up in another project that absolutely couldn’t wait. When they’d been married, Ruth had gotten used to it, in a certain grim way. Of course, it was also one of many reasons why they were no longer married.
This time, though, he’d disappointed his daughter, who wasn’t used to it yet.
Carol narrowed her eyes as she studied Barbara Jean’s sandwich. “That looks like crap.”
Ruth narrowed her own eyes. “Don’t say crap. Particularly, don’t say it about our food.”
Carol gave her a surly shrug. “Where’s Bec?”
“Bec’s only working half days now. She’s got too much to do at the brewery to work full time.” Ruth felt a quick pang. She missed having Bec around, but she understood the problem. Between cheese and beer, Bec would choose beer just as reliably as Ruth herself would choose cheese. If you had a choice, you went with your heart when it came to an avocation.
