Meg Maxwell - Charm School For Cowboys

Clementine Hurley Grainger, the youngest of her cousins and head waitress, came into the kitchen and said hi to Emma and announced they were having two big groups for lunch, the library’s book club, which had close to twenty members, at twelve thirty, and the rancher’s association bigwigs at 1:00 p.m. There were only six of them, but they always ordered enough food for double, and Hurley’s portions were generous to begin with.

Emma glanced at her cousins, their wedding rings gleaming, and a bit of envy poked at her. The three Hurley sisters had found wonderful husbands, and both Annabel and Georgia had babies. Clementine had a daughter who she’d adopted from foster care and her husband’s orphaned twin nephews, and sometimes Emma would see the big family together, wives, husbands, children, and she’d wish she could have that for herself. She had the extended family, sure. But her baby’s father was gone. Her mother was long gone. Her own father was, as usual, demanding she live according to his rules for her, so she didn’t even have the comfort of her dad in her life right now. She thought of him, missing those rare times when he could be so loving and kind. She sure wished he was by her side right now, but that just couldn’t be. She was on her own and would be fine. She had the Hurleys of Blue Gulch, and she’d found a perfect job and place to live. She’d raise her baby among friends, loving friends. I can do this, she reminded herself. I want to do this.

“Oh, and I ran into Olivia Mack this morning,” Clementine added. “She mentioned she’d be coming in for lunch at noon with her husband-and in-laws-to-be.”

“Does Olivia need me to cover the food truck this afternoon, then?” Emma asked, dredging what had to be her hundredth chicken wing in flour, then dipping it in the egg wash and coating it in flour again before laying it on the platter. When Emma had first started working at Hurley’s, she’d trained at their food truck, which was parked on the other end of Main Street and served po’boys of all kinds and the best cannoli Emma had ever had. Olivia, the cook and manager, had met the man she was marrying this fall while working in the food truck.

“Dylan’s working the truck today,” Essie said. Dylan, one of their cooks, was just eighteen years old and a single father of an adorable baby boy named Timmy. “I didn’t want to overtax you on your first day at the ranch.”

Emma smiled at her aunt and got busy. After she had hundreds of chicken wings ready for the fryer for the first wave of the lunch rush, she moved on to assisting Essie, who was working on sauces. Emma loved making barbecue sauce, and Hurley’s had at least ten variations. Then she moved on to preparing the spicy coleslaw, which Emma had been craving lately. Forget pickles. Emma could eat smothered pulled pork po’boys with a side of the spicy slaw every day. With a cannoli studded with chocolate chips for dessert. And ice-cold lemonade.

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