Melissa Cutler - Cowboy Justice

Maybe it did because the next thing she knew, Jenna sprang from the bench with such force the table rattled. “Okay, everyone. Stay in your seats. It’s time for cake tasting. Lisa, come on and give me a hand, would you?”

With that, the two women dashed to the kitchen, returning with large platters before the door stopped swinging.

Jenna dealt the paper plates of desserts out as fast as a poker dealer might. “There are two bakers in Quay County who handle weddings. That’s not a lot. We need to get one locked down for the wedding, so I have three cakes from each for you to taste and one bonus dessert option. First wave of samples is from Heavenly Confections. You’ve got a lemon drop layer cake, strawberry with an amaretto cream filling, and dark chocolate with a milk chocolate mousse ribbon. Keep track of what you like. I’ll come around and ask you each about it in a minute.”

Jenna was all business, going around to each table with her clipboard. All the cakes were pretty good. Rachel preferred the lemon best, but Amy was all about the chocolate. Kellan didn’t seem to care, and neither did the rest of the men, all of whom scraped their plates clean.

Lisa and Jenna scurried to the kitchen for round two.

“Okay,” Jenna said, coming through the door with a fresh tray. “This round is from Marla Ray of the Mesa Verde Inn, who runs a pastry business on the side. You’ve got your mocha almond cake, chocolate cherry, and vanilla bean with a custard ribbon. And, as a bonus, we’re also tasting triple berry cream pie.”

Rachel stared hungrily at the pie slice that was set in front of her. It looked as delectable as always, with whole, plump raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries shimmering in a glossy sauce, piled high above a cream cheese filling and topped with huge dollops of fresh whipped cream. Forget a wedding cake. If Rachel ever got married, she wanted triple berry cream pie at the reception. Whoever decided to offer it as an option at Amy’s wedding was a genius.

“This from Catcher Creek Café?” Chris asked.

Jenna smiled serenely at Chris. “Yes. It’s a nice addition to the options, don’t you think?”

“I like the idea, but you never mentioned we were considering pie,” Amy said.

Jenna’s smile grew even wider. “It was Vaughn’s suggestion. He brought the pies.”

Rachel’s throat threatened to close. She looked Vaughn’s way, her eyes wide and questioning, but he wasn’t paying her the least bit of mind. He sliced into his piece of pie with the side of his fork and ate a heaping bite.

Kellan, Chris, Amy, and almost everybody else in the room watched with openmouthed shock.

“Uh, Vaughn. That’s a fruit pie,” Kellan stammered.

“I know. It’s fantastic,” he said with his mouth full. He really did seem to be enjoying it.

“But you don’t eat fruit,” Amy said.

Vaughn nodded and finished chewing. “I realized this week that I was missing out on some of the best things in life because I was too afraid to try.” He shoveled a second huge forkful into his mouth.

“You hate produce,” Lisa said. “You’ve always hated produce.”

He shrugged. “People can change. I’ve changed. Aspects of my life I thought were important, it turned out they were holding me back and blinding me to what I was missing. This pie is really damn good. You were right, Rachel.”

She stared, dumbfounded.

“But . . .” Kellan said.

Vaughn speared his fork at him. “No, I’m serious about this, K. I dedicated my life to challenging Wallace Meyer’s power, and what did it get me? I mean, sure, I’ve got a great job that I love, and without the motivation of sticking it to Meyer, I may never have gone into law enforcement. But, other than that, my obsession with Meyer has done nothing but harm to me and the people in my life. My parents were arrested, for Pete’s sake.

“The real tragedy, and the part I’m going to have to work the hardest to make right, is that time and again, I allowed the woman I love to take a backseat to my hatred of Meyer and my fear of taking chances, when she should’ve been the first priority in my life all along. That will never happen again, and that’s a promise you can take to the bank.”

Woman he loved? What, in God’s name, was he trying to accomplish today? He was either talking about her or some other woman, and she really didn’t take him as the kind of man to go flaunting his feelings for another woman around her.

With a flourish, he scraped the rest of the pie from his plate and popped it into his mouth.

“Woman you love?” Chris asked, looking more baffled by the second.

Chin in hand, Amy leaned in. “This sounds intriguing. Who is she?”

Rachel swallowed.

A Cheshire cat smile spread over his face. “Jenna, may I have another slice of pie please?”

“Sure thing.” Jenna hustled through the swinging door to the kitchen.

Vaughn dabbed a napkin to his lips. “Hey, Rachel?” Her heart plummeted to her knees. “How’s Growly Bear’s shoe that I put back on? Holding up okay?”

What? She nodded mechanically.

“Did Chuck come around to reset the shoes for trail riding?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Jenna arrived with the pie tin and refilled his plate. “Thanks.”

Jenna grinned at Vaughn, a sly, knowing look. Whatever was going on with Vaughn, Jenna was in on it. That’s why she’d lied about him not being there. They’d worked together to trap her. They’d set her up for this, whatever it was.

“Excuse me, Ben. Would you mind switching seats with me?” It was Howard Keibler, plate in hand, standing behind Rachel. “I was hoping Rachel and I could get to know each other better today.”

“I don’t think so,” Vaughn said. He motioned with his fork to Ben, who was halfway to standing. “You stay where you’re at. We haven’t finished our conversation yet.”

“We haven’t?” Ben asked, lowering to the bench again, looking confused.

Howard pulled his face in surprise. “Help a guy out here, man. I’m trying to . . . you know . . .” He gestured to Rachel, wide-eyed like he was trying to pass a secret man-to-man message to Vaughn.

Subtle. Real subtle.

Vaughn cracked his knuckles. “What exactly did you come here to do, Keibler?”

Oh, my God. Didn’t anyone else hear the menace in Vaughn’s voice? Rachel glanced around the room. No one except Kellan and Jenna looked as worried as she was that Vaughn was going to drag Howard Keibler out by the shirt collar and beat the shit out of him.

Howard rolled his eyes. “Well, now you’ve forced my hand. Thanks a lot.” Then he pinned Rachel with an oily gaze. “Rachel . . .”

Time to run damage control. She rose to block Howard from Vaughn’s view, but she sensed that, behind her, he stood too. “Howard, I think there’s been some kind of mix-up. How about you and I go chat outside?”

“No, I think right here would be fine.”

All right. “I’m so sorry your time was wasted here today, Howard, but I’m not—”

“Come on now. Hear me out before you turn me down.”

Vaughn folded his arms over his chest. “Actually, I think you’d better listen to what the lady’s trying to tell you.”

“No offense, Sheriff, but this doesn’t concern you.”

Rachel’s stomach bottomed out. Wrong thing to say, Howard. Over his shoulder, she met Jenna’s panicked gaze. “Help me,” she whispered maniacally.

Jenna, a whole pie in her hands, shook her head, seemingly paralyzed by the unexpected turn of events.

Amy rushed around the table and draped her arm across Howard’s shoulders, a proud mama expression on her face. “Give this a chance, Rach. Please? Howard has been growing alfalfa on Dixon Farm for ten years. The two of you would make a wonderful match. What’s the harm in one date?”