Boone turned to study Maddie. “You know how to cook, do you?”
She fought a grin he didn’t understand. “A little.”
Vondell shot her a shocked glance. “But, Maddie, you’re a—”
“A quick learner,” Maddie supplied.
“Now I don’t know why you’re being so modest. Maddie here is a genuine gourmet chef from New York.”
Boone watched a shadow cross over the mischief in Maddie’s eyes. “Is that right? Well, not much call for gourmet chefs in this part of Texas. There is The Dinner Bell over on the highway, but I’m afraid it won’t quite measure up to your standards.”
Maddie’s chin jutted upward. “Good food is good food, wherever it’s served.”
“So why would a gourmet chef leave a fancy restaurant in New York to come to this little burg? Who’s doing the cooking while you’re rescuing calves?”
The shadows darkened for a moment, but then came the sparks. Had he been standing closer, his hide would have been singed. Boone decided he liked the sparks better than the shadows.
“I had a small share in a restaurant, but my partner bought me out. I’m trying to decide whether to accept one of several offers or open my own place when I go back.”
“And they’ll wait for you to decide? You must be good.”
Maddie locked her gaze on his and gave him a slow, wicked smile that could suck the breath out of a man’s lungs. “I’m very good.”
Boone couldn’t respond yet. He was still trying to draw a good breath. “Well…” He stirred, slapping his hands on denim-covered thighs. “Guess I’d better grab a shower before Vondell throws my supper out.”
As he crossed the room, Vondell turned her body in tandem with his motion so her back stayed hidden. Boone shot her a curious glance, but Vondell only blushed again.
Vondell the drill sergeant, blushing. Would wonders never cease? Boone mounted the stairs with tired steps, still wondering what the two of them were hiding.
But not sure he really wanted to know.
Maddie thought she’d choke to death on her iced tea at the look on Boone’s face when he saw the radish roses decorating his plate. She wanted to laugh so badly it hurt, but she was afraid it would hurt Vondell’s feelings. Vondell fidgeted in her chair, waiting for his reaction. She’d tried to throw them in the compost crock, but Maddie had stood guard over them before she could succeed.
“Well, don’t just sit there like a bump on a log.” Vondell went on the offensive. “Eat your supper before it gets cold.”
Boone cleared his throat. “What are these?”
Vondell colored. “How did you get to be thirty-two years old and you can’t recognize a radish? I thought you injured your back, not your brain. They’re radish roses. You can eat ’em or not.”
He shot a look at Maddie. Maddie gave him no help. He cleared his throat again. “They’re, uh, real pretty, Vondell. Kinda decorates the plate.”
“Aw, go ahead and laugh. You know you want to.”
He frowned. “I do not. I just don’t know quite what to do with them.”
“You eat ’em, you big galoot. Just like you eat any old radish.”
Boone took a cautious bite. His eyebrows lifted. “Don’t taste any different.”
Vondell harrumphed. “Damn fool idea. Don’t know why you didn’t let me throw them out, Maddie.”
“You said you wanted to learn how to do them, and you did a superb job.” She shot him a glare that would have melted lead. “Didn’t she, Boone?”
“They’re, uh, real pretty.” Affection for the older woman shone from his eyes. “And they taste just fine.”
“Aw, get on with you. Just eat your chicken-fried steak,” she grumbled, but her cheeks were flushed again. She rose from the table and headed toward the sink. “After all these years of cooking for men, don’t know why I ever wanted to try such a thing.”
Boone shot Maddie a glower like this was all her fault. Maddie simply shrugged her shoulders and popped another radish in her mouth.
“This meal is wonderful, Vondell,” she said.
“Too plain for what you’re used to, I’m sure.”
Boone spoke up. “You don’t ever have to apologize for your cooking. I used to dream about it.”
Vondell turned, eyes shining. Maddie took a new look at Boone.
“Is that right?”
He nodded, finishing another huge bite. “Sometimes I thought if I could just have one more slice of your chocolate cake or one of your biscuits, I could die a happy man.”
“Flatterer,” Vondell protested, but her pleasure shone from her face. “You’re just wondering if I made your favorite chocolate cake.”