Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (15 page)

“Yep.”

“Ready to put it on?”

“Yep again.”

As he opened the top of the cooler, he heard the creak of the gate. Chico reversed course and was across the yard in two strides. Harris turned to see two of the Steinbruner brothers standing just inside the gate.

One of them gave Chico a hopeful grin. “This where the barbecue’s at?”

Chico shook his head. “Private party.”

The other Steinbruner looked puzzled. “Private for who?”

“For invited people.” Chico folded his arms across his chest. “Which the two of you aren’t.”

“We play a lot of pool here. How come we’re not invited?” The first brother sounded slightly aggrieved.

Chico appeared to be holding on to his patience with both hands. “Your pool game doesn’t have anything to do with it. This is a private party, like I said. Y’all go on back inside and see what Clem’s got on the menu for you.”

“Won’t be ’cue,” the second brother muttered.

“Maybe not. But it’ll be good.” Chico stayed in place, an implacable wall of muscle and bone between the Steinbruners and the smokers. The brothers looked like sinners who’d had a brief glimpse of paradise.

After another moment, they turned back through the gate, muttering. Chico closed it firmly behind them.

“It’s been like this all freakin’ morning,” he said through gritted teeth. “Somebody needs to stay out here with the meat at all times, or we’ll probably have barbecue thieves.”

Harris grinned as he put the two foil-wrapped briskets on the grill. “Hey, it helps build the rep.”

“You already have a rep.”

“Yeah, but it never hurts to have more. That pork smells legit.”

Chico gave him a tight smile. “Is
legit
the same as
good
?”

Harris shrugged. “Better than good, I’d say. Just about any fool can put a pork butt on the fire and come up with something edible. It takes something more to be legit.”

The gate creaked again and Chico pivoted, his expression fierce enough to turn away anybody except a man who was seriously in need of a brisket fix. “Private party,” he barked as the gate opened.

“I know, I’m part of it. At least I think I am.”

Harris trotted across the yard. He didn’t think Chico would toss out Darcy, but when he was in bouncer mode, who knew what he was capable of? “Hey,” he called. “It’s okay. She’s with me.”

“And she’s bringing coleslaw.” Darcy lifted a large plastic bowl in front of her chest.

Chico was already shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. Already. Why don’t you take the slaw into the kitchen—through that door. Clem can put it in the walk-in.”

“Thanks.” Darcy grinned at both of them, her gaze lingering slightly on Harris.
Good sign.
At least she wasn’t looking at the side of his ear the way she had been the last time they’d spent any time together. “You’ve got quite a gang gathered outside the entrance to this alley. I had a feeling one or two of them might follow me in.”

Chico turned back toward the gate again. “Goddamn it, we ought to just lock the thing.” He swung the gate open and stomped off toward the sidewalk. Harris had a feeling whoever was loitering around the entrance to the alley was going to have a very interesting talk with an enraged bouncer.

He turned back to Darcy. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She grinned.

He licked his lips. “Thought I was picking you up at the Rose.”

She shrugged. “I finished working brunch early today. And I just live a few blocks from here. Easier to walk.”

He frowned, momentarily sidetracked. “You don’t live at the Rose?”

She gave him a dry smile. “Nobody lives at the Rose. Except the tourists at the inn. Even Joe moved out when he got together with MG.”

“Oh.” He tried to think of something else to say about that and came up empty. Of course, the fact that she had an apartment within walking distance opened up some interesting possibilities.

She glanced around the yard. “Smells good back here.”

He stepped closer so that he could smell her instead of the ’cue—apple and lemons with a little spice. Essence of Darcy. “Yeah.”

“I better get this to the kitchen.” She lifted the bowl again, her smile suddenly shy.

He took the bowl out of her hands. “What did you make? More of the slaw like you do for the truck?”

She shook her head. “I figure we’ve got more than just barbecue fanatics this time around. I tried something different.”

He gave a mock groan. “Lord, tell me it doesn’t involve olives and feta cheese.”

She thumped his upper arm. “Oh, bite me. Just for that I won’t tell you what’s in it. You can figure it out along with everybody else.”

He glanced down, considering just how much he really would like to bite her. Just a nip of course. Here, there and…other places.

The gate swung open again and Chico stomped past them, heading for his smoker. “Assholes,” he muttered.

Darcy sighed, lifting the bowl from his hands. “Time to go to work.” She turned toward the kitchen.

Harris watched her go, wondering if he could manufacture a reason to go inside and talk to Clem Rodriguez.

“You got everything you want out of your truck? I need to go pick somebody up.” He thought Chico looked slightly pink all of a sudden, but that could be the light.

“I’ve got a pot of beans in there. I need to put it on the fire too.”

Chico checked his watch. “Okay, go get it. Then I’ll take off. Can you keep the trespassers out on your own?”

Harris gritted his teeth. No point in being insulted. He wasn’t a bouncer, and he definitely wasn’t in Chico’s class when it came to size. “Yeah, sure. I can always get Darcy and Clem to back me up.”

If Chico caught the sarcasm, he didn’t let it show. “Okay then. I’m off.”

Harris watched Chico head off up the alley toward the street again. He still didn’t have his beans. Maybe he’d need Darcy and Clem after all.

If he hadn’t known better he might have thought the big guy was nervous. But that was clearly ridiculous. Somebody the size of Chico didn’t get flustered like the rest of the population. He blew out a breath. In reality, he was nervous enough for both of them. And not about the food this time.

Chico pulled up in front of Andy’s house, noting the unfamiliar car in the driveway. He grimaced. He wasn’t sure how ready he was to meet her friends. Hell, he wasn’t sure how ready
she
was for him to meet her friends. The conversation with Clem about the probable gossip had unnerved him more than he liked to admit.

They were both going to catch a lot of crap once people saw them together. He could handle it. He didn’t know about Andy.

He knocked on her door, but he wasn’t entirely surprised when a man opened it. His expression was more incredulous than hostile. “Can I help you?” he said.

“I’m almost ready, Chico. Just a minute. Eddie get out of the doorway and let him in.” Andy’s voice echoed from deeper in the house.

Eddie stepped back, still regarding Chico with narrowed eyes. “Eddie Wells,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Andy’s brother.”

“Chico Burnside.” He paused to figure out just how to describe himself. “I’m Andy’s friend.” Seemed neutral enough.

Apparently, Wells wasn’t certain about that. “Oh yeah? Where did you two meet?”

“We have mutual friends.” Andy hurried into the room carrying her purse and a casserole dish. She was wearing jeans and a peach-colored knit shirt, simultaneously cool and hot. “We have to leave now. We’re going to a party. I’ll see you next week, Eddie.”

Eddie Wells still wasn’t smiling, but he allowed Andy to bustle him out the door. She turned to Chico. “Would you hold this for a minute while I lock up?”

He took the dish from her, keeping his hands on the basket underneath to avoid the hot surface. “You didn’t need to bring anything.”

She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Sure I did. Nobody comes to a barbecue empty-handed.”

“Barbecue?” Eddie Wells’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re doing barbecue again?”

“I’m not ‘doing’ barbecue, Eddie,” Andy said tartly. “I’m going to a barbecue. With Chico. And we’d better leave now. He’s cooking.”

Wells followed them glumly down the porch steps. “Guess I’ll see you later then.”

“I guess you will.” She took back her covered dish, waiting while Chico opened the truck door and ignoring her brother.

Chico glanced in his rearview mirror as he pulled away. Eddie Wells was still standing by the driveway, watching them move down the street.

“I’m sorry,” Andy said quietly. “He can be a real jerk sometimes.”

“Family’s family.” Chico shrugged. “He probably didn’t expect to see you out with someone like me.”

“I don’t care what he expects.” She glanced at him, smiling. “And you’re not ‘someone like you’. You’re you.”

He smiled back, automatically, as a bubble of warmth seemed to expand in his chest. His shoulders relaxed for the first time since he’d seen Eddie Wells’s glowering face. “Glad to hear it. What’s in the dish?”

“Beans. I would have made potato salad but I figured the people at the Faro would have that covered.”

“Beans.”
Hell.
The King had made beans, and the King was a pro. He hoped Andy wasn’t the type to get too worked up over her cooking. He figured he’d eat a lot of her beans even if nobody else did. “That’s good, but like I said, you didn’t need to bring anything. You’re a guest.”

“Chico, trust me, everybody will bring something.”

He grinned, ridiculously pleased all of a sudden that she’d used his name. She’d done it back at the house too. It seemed significant, although he wasn’t sure why. He turned into the parking lot next door to the Faro. “Should be interesting.”

“It should at that.” She waited for him to open her door, then handed him her beans. “Don’t worry. They’re good. I guarantee it.”

“I never thought otherwise.” But all the same, he figured he might be eating a lot of beans before the day was through.

Chapter Eleven

Darcy did a quick, professional assessment of the crowd as she watched the King carve slices of brisket. Somewhere between twenty and thirty, she’d guess, not counting the occasional barbecue thief trying to sneak in through the bar.

Joe and MG stood at the far side of the yard, talking to Clem, while Tom Ames was deep in conversation with Nando Avrogado and his wife Kit. Kit was the manager of the Rose, but she was also somebody who could give Deirdre Ames a run for her money in terms of beauty.

Of course, just then Deirdre looked a little green, since she was still suffering from morning sickness even though it was late afternoon. She stood beside Tom, munching on a couple of soda crackers.

Darcy sort of recognized a few of the other people in the yard too. The baby-faced cop who sometimes played pool at the Faro. His date, who looked barely old enough to drive, let alone drink the longneck she was holding. The cop’s date also got a quick once-over from the chief of police who was standing on the covered patio with his wife, the manager of the Cedar Creek Winery. Clem’s partner, Lucinda, was setting out some bowls of chips on one of the folding tables. A kid who worked at Coffee Delight, Deirdre’s next-door coffee shop, kept the beverage tub loaded with ice, beer and soda.

But there were also a lot of strangers. Darcy had lived in Konigsburg for a couple of years now, but she still wasn’t a regular anywhere but the Rose, given her long hours in the kitchen. Hell, these days between the Rose and the King, she was barely in town for anything except sleep.

Thinking of the King, she ambled over toward the table where he was carving brisket. She knew enough now to check the smoke ring, the thin red outline at the edge of the meat that showed it had spent enough time over the coals. Perfection, so far as she could tell, although the King didn’t seem entirely satisfied.

Chico Burnside stood at the King’s elbow, dishing up pulled pork from an aluminum pan. A bowl of sauce sat between the two men, but both of them seemed to be ignoring it, which meant it probably wasn’t theirs.

Barbecue snobs.
She sighed.

“So, are these yours?”

Darcy turned to see MG Carmody forking up some beans.

She shook her head. “Nope. I did the slaw. Good beans?”

“Really good.” MG grinned. “Slaw was superlative too. Also the beef. Also the pork. Joe’s grinding his teeth. He wants in on this in the worst way. I think he’d really like to be doing barbecue himself.”

Darcy glanced toward where Joe was still talking with Clem. He did look a little wistful, or as wistful as a man the size of a small bear could look, anyway. “He told me he doesn’t want to get into ’cue. Has he changed his mind?”

MG shook her red curls. “Nope. He just hates not to be doing something that tastes this good. He’ll calm down when he gets back home. How about you?”

“How about me?” Darcy shrugged. “I think it tastes good too.”

“No, I mean how do you feel about doing barbecue? You going to keep on being an apprentice?” MG raised an eyebrow. “When do you sleep, by the way?”