Chapter 30 Lunch
Sierra opened her mouth to decline Ryder’s invitation to lunch, prepared to insist on picking up her daddy’s prescription and the need to hurry back to the ranch, but the prospect of another hour steeped in ash and spreadsheets felt suddenly exhausting. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But let’s make it quick.”
Ryder beamed, a quick, genuine smile that cut through the exhaustion and scraped away a thin layer of the carefully constructed professional distance they had built between them. “Great. Follow me.”
She expected him to lead her to a local greasy-spoon diner, like The Dusty Spoon, but instead, he drove into the downtown area and parked across the street from a new eatery called Artisan Eats.
The place was meticulously clean, minimalist, and smelled faintly of truffle oil and fresh sourdough. It was the kind of sophisticated, slightly pretentious spot that wouldn’t be out of place on a side street in Chelsea.
“I figured you’d prefer something… less rustic,” Ryder explained awkwardly as they sat down at a tiny, marble-topped table. Their waitress handed them menus printed on heavy cardstock.
Sierra tried not to let her amusement show. He was making a valiant effort to cater to the city girl in her, but he looked extremely uncomfortable and massive beside the tiny table.
She ordered a goat cheese and arugula salad. Ryder, after visibly scanning the menu for several minutes, settled on the “Signature Truffle Mushroom Sandwich” and a bowl of the daily soup.
The food arrived quickly. Sierra’s salad was delicate and beautiful, a perfect, light Manhattan lunch. Ryder’s sandwich, however, was a small, elegant creation, thin slices of artisanal bread barely holding together a refined filling. The soup arrived in a wide, shallow bowl.
Sierra watched as Ryder, despite his massive hunger clearly indicated by the speed at which he started eating, tried to maintain an air of polite restraint. He was a man accustomed to ranch-hand portions that were hearty and dense, meant to sustain hours of heavy labor. The fancy sandwich was barely an appetizer.
“It’s good,” he managed, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin after the sandwich disappeared in about three minutes.
“It looks… looked very sophisticated,” Sierra commented, picking at her greens.
“Yeah. It was… light and had a pretty unique flavor to it,” he agreed, his eyes already drifting toward the bread basket. He finished the soup rapidly, leaving the bowl absolutely clean.
The conversation was stilted. They talked about the ranch, the weather, and anything that was neutral, necessary, and safe.
By the time the check arrived, Ryder had the posture of a man who had just finished a complicated diet soda. He was still vibrating with suppressed hunger.
“Thanks, Ryder,” Sierra said, sliding from the chair. “That was exactly what I needed.”
“Sure. Glad you liked it.” He looked regretful, standing a full head taller than everyone else in the café. “I should probably get back. I’ve got plenty to do before sundown.”
They parted ways in the street. Ryder headed for his heavy truck, and Sierra got into her SUV, turning in different directions as they pulled away from the curb.
Sierra made a quick stop at the pharmacy to fill her father’s prescription, using the drive-up window, and then headed toward the street that would take her to the highway leading to Sage Ranch.
As she was leaving the downtown area, she considered his thoughtful gesture of taking her to the quaint deli, but realized there was no way he would be able to work on the tiny sandwich and soup he’d been served, so she decided to stop off at Cody’s favorite, The Dusty Spoon, to pick up a box of chicken.
When she pulled off into the gravel parking lot and got out, she thought she saw Ryder’s truck parked out back, but dismissed the thought. After all, how many ranchers around Kingman drove dark-colored RAM diesel trucks? She exited her SUV to the smell of frying oil and coffee.
She entered the restaurant and marched straight to the counter.
“Can I get a six-piece fried chicken dinner, extra mashed potatoes and gravy, and a large sweet tea?” she instructed. “To go, please.”
When Sierra turned away from the counter, she saw Ryder hunched over a table. By his movements, it was obvious that he was eating.
“Hey, Ryder,” she said, sneaking up to stand behind him. “What you doing?”
Ryder froze, then turned slowly, his eyes wide and guilty, caught red-handed. “Oh, God, Sierra. Don’t tell me you followed me,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I just—I needed something that wouldn’t evaporate between my teeth. I hadn’t eaten all morning, and that fancy little piece of toast…”
Though her lunch had been enough for her, she slid into the booth across from him without speaking, taking advantage of his momentary embarrassment.
“What brings you here?” he asked. “You want some chicken?”
She was just about to respond when Brenda Jensen called out, “Sierra, here’s your six-piece chicken with extra mashed potatoes.”
“Ah ha,” he laughed, calling after her as she went to pick up her order. “You didn’t get enough to eat either.”
“Actually,” she lied. “I stopped by to pick this up for Cody.”
“Cody, huh?” he grinned. She’d never been very good at lying, and he saw right through her. “I’m sure Cody will appreciate the gesture.”
“He’s been working harder than I’ve ever seen him work,” she said, using him to prevent the conversation from coming around to them.
“Cody was never cut out for anything permanent or long-term,” Ryder said. “But it’s hard not to like the guy just the same.”
“He’s got my mama’s personality,” she said, instantly wondering why she had suddenly brought her late mother into the conversation. What she said was true, except that her mother had been cut out for something permanent and long-term, and it had ended much too soon. She shied away from the deep thoughts that were beginning to swell inside her and scrambled to quickly add, “except for the not wanting to work part.”
“I didn’t know your mama very well,” Ryder responded, filling the uncomfortable space that had suddenly risen up between them.
“I’ll let you eat,” she said, sliding out of the booth suddenly. “I need to get Daddy’s medicine to him.”
“See you at the ranch,” Ryder responded.
Sierra started toward the door, ready to escape, but something inside her caused her to turn back. “Ryder,” she said in a weak voice. “Thanks for inviting me to that little place downtown. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“Any time,” he responded, swallowing a large bite of mashed potatoes. “I enjoyed it.”
She laughed and turned away. Neither of them was good at lying.