Cowboy in the Kitchen Read Online Free PDF

was torn down to make room for a mechanical horse-head pump, Pap hauled the lumber here to be used in the construction of his home.”
    “So, Mason Dixon Temple was a conservationist before conservation was cool.”
    “I guess that’s as good a way to put it as any. How about if we hang those doors here? I presume you plan to offer an in-kitchen dining experience, and this pantry could be a focal point with an interesting story.”
    “To be honest, I hadn’t considered the idea of special seating in the kitchen but I understand it’s become quite popular. If we include that in the plan, won’t the diners be in your way?”
    “We’ll have plenty of additional space once that far wall is blown out to accommodate the walk-in cooler.” He pointed toward the row of windows she’d marked for demolition to expand the footprint. “We’ll put seating for eight along the south wall, and the pine pantry will be storage for our selection of fine wines. A dinner party in our kitchen will be on every hostess’s wish list for the New Year.”
    The nod of her head was nearly imperceptible, but it was enough. He’d scored a point. She stepped into the open space he’d envisioned for the prep stations and cooking surfaces.
    “Have you given any thought to the layout of the countertops and appliances?”
    It took every shred of manners his mama taught him to hold back the rude response that rushed to his lips. Gillian Moore wasn’t stupid, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t downright mean. He could only surmise it hadn’t crossed the woman’s mind that he’d wandered the halls of Temple Territory for countless hours, dreaming and planning of what he’d do with the place. But he’d never imagined it would all be for somebody else.
    “I’ve laid out this kitchen nine ways from Friday and I’ve planned out exactly how it should operate. I’ve been remodeling it in my mind since I was sixteen and fried my first green tomato.”
    “Then why didn’t you make it happen yourself?” There was annoyance in the way she barked the question.
    “I never imagined anybody would make the investment in this place, given its reputation.” Hearing his excuse made Hunt feel like the whiner his brothers had accused him of being that very same morning.
    “Well, you were wrong. It only took me one walk-through to realize this property could be spectacular.”
    “So you’ve already told me.” He scuffed his hand through his hair, Gillian’s aggravation spilling over to him. “Just give me the budget and I’ll get the best return for your investment.”
    She retrieved a notepad from her purse, flipped over a few pages and then held it up so Hunt could read the bottom-line figure, circled in red ink. “We must stay within that amount.”
    Hunt exhaled a soft whistle. He’d be bitter about her ability to exercise such generosity if he wasn’t going to enjoy spending the rich girl’s money.
    “Well, can you make it work?”
    “I’ll see what I can do.” He feigned uncertainty. “There’s wiggle room, of course.”
    “None whatsoever.” She flipped her notepad closed and poked it into her bag. “I don’t intend to rob Peter to pay Paul during this project. I’ve worked this budget out with my financial advisor nine ways from Friday, as you so eloquently put it. There’s no reason we can’t open Moore House on schedule and without breaking the bank.”
    Moore House. Cold chills rippled up Hunt’s spine each time he heard the name. Surely the sensation was caused by Pap rolling over in his unmarked grave.
    * * *
    M OORE H OUSE . J UST the mention of it comforted Gillian like a thick quilt on a bleak winter day. Her parents’ investment of their years of vigilant saving simply had to bear fruit, and in a big way. There could be no other outcome, or her folks would be working the rest of their lives, and she’d never hear the end of it from her father.
    Gillian loved the hospitality business and would work in corporate