Page 28 of Yummy Cowboy

Espresso maker. Dinner service. A fucking gourmet dessert menu, for crying out loud!

Listening to Summer’s ideas, it sure sounded like she didn’t merely aim to make this place profitable. She wanted to turn Brock’s homestyle diner into some kind of fancy big city restaurant.

While he couldn’t argue that a lot of her business suggestions made sense, he didn’t like where her proposed changes were leading.

The Yummy Cowboy Diner hadneverbeen an espresso and gourmet desserts kind of place.

He might not know the finer details about running a restaurant like Ms. Fancy Pants Chef did, but Brock knew his customers.

And despite the enthusiasm that made Summer’s beautiful features glow, he had the feeling that it wasn’t just her pushing for these changes. Before Frank Snowberry passed away, he had told Brock that Snowberry Springs needed to offer the kinds of things that would make tourists want to pull off the highway and stay in town.

I knew Mrs. S’s offer was too good to be true!Brock thought. But he’d thought that working with Summer would be his biggest challenge, not fighting for the heart and soul of his diner.

He couldn’t deny that The Yummy Cowboy Diner was in deep trouble. Or that Summer knew what she was doing.

But there had to be a better way to save this place than change it past recognition and destroy a lifetime of Brock’s memories. He’d grown up here, spending afternoons doing his homework at the counter, helping as soon as he was big enough to hold a broom or carry plates. He’d worked every job in this diner, from busing tables and washing dishes to cooking.

Every corner of this building held precious memories of his mama smiling and laughing with her customers, joking around with Marlene and Kenny, and making Brock her special mugs of hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon on snowy days.

Nope, he didn’t intend to roll over and let Summer and Abigail destroy the things that made the diner special to him and the town.

“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”

He chewed and swallowed the last bite of his pie, and prepared to lay down the law to his new partner.

Okay, if he was honest with himself, what hereallywanted to do right now was get up, walk around the table, and kiss Summer until she forgot about cappuccinos and seasonal berry shortcake. She had no right to look that sexy in a coat that covered her from neck to wrists. He itched to loosen her tight braid and run his hands through her golden hair. It would feel so soft, sliding through his fingers.

And it would look mighty fine spread out over his pillows. Even better if her lips were parted and moaning in pleasure.

Then someone knocked on the diner’s front door and derailed his X-rated train of thought.

Brock glared at the intruder.

Just because he and Summer were sitting in the dining room didn’t mean that the diner was still open to the public. Besides, everyone in town knew his place closed at three p.m.

Then he recognized the thin, slightly stooped figure peering through the large glass panel set in the door.

Summer, seated with her back to the door, gave him an inquiring look.

“It’s Kenny. What the hell does he want?” Brock asked.

He shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. Four quick strides brought him to the door.

“Hey, kid, can I talk to you for a minute?” the diner’s former manager asked with a sheepish expression.

Brock peered at him, trying to guess what he wanted.

The old guy looked freshly-shaved, and his thinning hair was combed neatly. He wore an actual buttoned shirt, stain-free. His pants looked a size too big, and a well-worn leather belt cinched them tight around his skinny hips.

Brock unlocked the door. The shopkeeper’s bell chimed, a sweet, cheerful sound as he pulled it open. “Hi there, Kenny. What brings you here?”

“Well, uh, you see,” Kenny began, looked acutely uncomfortable.

Brock’s spidey sense began tingling. Whatever Kenny wanted, he knew he wouldn’t like it.

Then Kenny’s gaze moved to somewhere behind Brock. “Hey, is that Summer Snowberry? I heard she came back for Frank’s funeral.”

“Hi, Mr. Stinson,” she called. “Long time no see.” To Brock’s relief, she stayed put at the table.