Page 11 of A Cowboy's Trust
His friend laughed. “I don’t advocate for self-medicating with alcohol or drugs on a regular basis. No, the question for you is right up your alley because it’s action based.”
“Drinking beer is an action,” Jake complained.
“If you’d said whiskey, I’d be joining you.” Kevin finished the last of the coffee in his mug and smiled across the distance between them. “No, the second question isWhat should I do right now?”
Really?“You want the self-confessed excessive planner to make another list?”
Kevin shook his head. “Oh no, the exact opposite. When you get to feeling the way you don’t want, I’d like to propose an experiment. You have to find something to do for a short period of time that is absolutelynoton your list.”
For fuck’s sake.That damn unfinished goal list in Jake’s journal was coming back to haunt him. “You’re saying my therapy is to be spontaneous?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Only for fifteen minutes if that’s all you can take.”
Jake collapsed back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “This is a new form of hell.”
“You might be surprised.” Kevin grinned at him, rising to his feet. “Now let’s finish our therapy and deal with the window trim. Then we can honestly tell the others we had a productive morning.”
Jake washed both their cups and turned on some music. They spent the next two hours in a comfortable quiet, sanding trim and applying a final layer of varnish.
The place looked great when they stopped to admire their handiwork, and while Jake still wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable with the suggestion, Kevin’s idea had some merit.
It seemed the universe meant for him to learn some new lessons this year.
The first weeksof working at High Water had been thrilling but frantic.
Tansy had taken on what was essentially a full-time job, but she still had the food element of Buns and Roses café to coordinate. Even with the head baker/chef she’d hired for the café, it took until the middle of January for the woman to fall into a solid routine that meant Tansy only needed to come in once a week for a meeting and to double-check the current food order sheets.
Since she planned to do the food order for High Water then as well, timing for that part of the job balanced out nicely.
“Somebody complained that my cinnamon buns are nowhere near as good as yours,” Marina informed her as they met in the early morning on Thursday before the café doors were officially open. The woman had her salt-and-pepper hair tucked under a rainbow-hued headband. The smattering of freckles over her nose and her pale skin hinted that once upon a time she’d been a redhead. Now in her late fifties, she might’ve gone grey early, but she still moved with amazing speed in the kitchen. “I swear I followed your recipe to the letter.”
“Proof them under dishtowels instead of saran wrap,” Tansy suggested. “And if people complain after that, tell them we’re so sorry, and we’ll take them off the menu. I bet they shut up fast.”
Marina’s amusement was clear. “I can tell this isn’t your first rodeo.”
“Terrible cinnamon buns are better than no cinnamon buns at all, you know?” Tansy offered a wink then went through the rest of the questions Marina had from the week. When they were done, Tansy nodded her approval. “You’re doing a great job. How are you liking the apartment?”
Part of the enticement of getting a trained and experienced chef to move into the area had been to provide instant accommodations. Tansy wasn’t using the rooms anymore, so it had made sense.
“I think you’re being far too generous, but you can’t take it back now.” Marina sat back in her chair and sighed happily. “This is a little bit of a dream job for me. You have this place running like clockwork. You haven’t gone overboard with too wild and varied of a menu, and other than my inferior cinnamon bun skills, things have been going well. In fact, if you need me to take on any extra baking tasks, I’m ready.”
“That is really good news. I’m still okay right now, but over the next three weeks, we start to host events out at High Water.” The first people would arrive the next evening, and Tansy had excitement butterflies flipping in her stomach. “When we get to full production, having you deal with some of the breakfast items and baked treats will end up being a lifesaver.”
“Not a problem. You know as well as me it’s just as easy to cook twelve dozen as six dozen when you have the oven room. Which we do.” Marina got to her feet and brushed her hands down the front of her apron, smile brightening. “I need to get back to work before my boss catches me sitting on my butt.”
“Fate worse than death. I hear your boss is a real hard-ass,” Tansy teased.
She’d just slipped behind the wheel of her clunker when a text message from Sydney arrived.
Sydney: I truly hate updating qualifications.
Tansy: Let me guess. They’re making you sit through slideshow presentations instead of letting you simply take the test.
Sydney: Got it in one. What a freakin’ waste of my time. Anyway, I wanted to catch up with you. How’s the new job? I’m pissed off that I haven’t been around to come celebrate with you.
Tansy: I know you’re excited for me. You’ll be back in a couple weeks, and we’ll get our girls night on then. The job is working out fine. Jinx is a hoot, and you and I need to start planning a wild and woolly bachelorette party for Petra.
Sydney: It will be a night to remember. Okay, I need to hit the road or I will get the evil eye from the powers that be when I stroll into the lab late. Again—cough, cough. Time to pretend to be a productive member of adult society. Love you. Don’t poison anyone.
