“You won’t possibly let me forget,” Kim shot back. When he smiled, she wasn’t sure if she should smack him or hug him, which meant even though she had to work side by side with Drew for the coming weeks, she’d be keeping her distance. She’d had her fill of cops and cop types, and every time she looked at Drew she pictured Dave by his side. Laughing. Scolding. Teasing.
But Dave wasn’t there anymore. She’d never apologized to her brother for dismissing his concerns before he died, and then he was gone and it was too late. Between her reality TV–style summer in Nashville and her father’s health battles, Kimberly couldn’t handle anything else. She tapped her electronic notebook. “Would you prefer I keep hard copy notes, as well?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The way he said it, as if deferring to her when the opposite was true, almost made her smile. And when he grasped his daughter’s hand and moved back toward the wide stone steps, the sight of father and daughter brought back good memories. Not enough to fully cloak the bad ones, but enough to bring a hint of peace to her heart.
She’d relish that sweet peace for however long it lasted, which with a stubborn man like Drew might be five minutes. But it was five minutes she intended to enjoy.
* * *
“Next step—food.” Tara had hooked Kimberly up with a spiral-bound notebook. Drew aimed the car back onto Route 14 while she scribbled notes forty-five minutes later.
“Do you really think that the florist, linen supply company, caterers and all the rest can keep quiet about this?”
“They can. Will they?” Kimberly shrugged. “We’ll see. But if everything is being done under assumed names, the date is changed and the other venue on hold, we’ve got a good start. So back to food.”
“You’re hungry?” Drew turned her way once he was headed north. “Because I’m starved, and I’m sure the kid could eat something. And Daryl’s hungry by nature.”
“And not too proud to admit it,” Daryl assured them from the backseat.
“Then let’s kill two birds with one stone.” Kimberly didn’t look up as she sketched something in the pages of the book. “Josie Gallagher’s got the best barbecue this side of the Mason-Dixon Line, and if you think we don’t know ’cue in New York, you’d be wrong. Let’s go get lunch, and we’ll check out her catering menu.”
“For?”
“The wedding, of course.”
Drew winced. “I’m not sure that Shelby and her mother are the barbecue type.”
“So now we’re worried about the bride all of a sudden.” He didn’t have to look sideways to know the look she aimed his way was less than friendly. “Bear in mind that half the guest list is from the South, and they love barbecue. And in country music, good old-fashioned food ranks mighty high. In any case, this is a moot point until we’ve had you guys taste Josie’s food. She’s on Fourth Street, right along the lakefront, just beyond the state boat-launching facility.”
Drew knew that area. There used to be a funny old diner there, rustic and run-down as the owner aged.
When he turned into the restaurant parking lot ten minutes later, the difference amazed him. “Great place.”
“Right?” She turned and smiled at him. When she did, years rolled back, a bunch of friends, hanging out, grabbing a burger, having a swim. “Josie hired Jon Robilard to do the repairs and upgrades. He brought the whole retro/rustic look back to life.”
“What is that smell?” Daryl breathed deep as he came around the car, and the look of appreciation on his face made Kimberly laugh.
“That’s Josie’s way of welcoming you and your taste buds to Bayou Barbecue. Let’s go see what’s cooking.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Drew pulled the door open and held it as the rest stepped through. “Anything that smells this good has to be amazing.”
It was. They sampled outlaw potatoes, baked to perfection and stuffed with sour cream, cheese and home-cured bacon. Brisket, sliced thin, perfectly smoked, fork tender. Ribs, full flavored and messy, served with a side of a warm, wet washcloth for a quick tableside cleanup. Cheesy corn casserole, an old-time favorite. Cajun chicken. Cajun fish. Pecan pie and home-churned vanilla frozen custard, a town treasure and secret. “Josie bought a franchise from Stan to produce his custard here.”
“No way would Stan Richardson franchise out his business.” Drew’s dad and Stan’s son had been good friends before his parents had passed away. “I can’t believe it.”
“Josie’s pretty convincing,” Kimberly told him, then waved her cousin over as the lunch crowd thinned. “Josie, come here and meet these guys, and if you have a minute, sit and talk with us about event catering.”
“Coffee first,” Josie declared. She made herself a cup and brought a fresh pot to the table along with a tray with four mugs. “I no longer assume that tweens and teens don’t drink coffee because a lot of them do.”
Amy laughed as she reached for a mug. “I love coffee and lattes.”
“Children of a new millennium,” Drew muttered. He didn’t dissuade the choice of beverage, which might mean he was a terrible parent, but he’d been drinking coffee himself since age twelve. And he was doing okay. Most days.
Josie sank into a chair, leaned back and sighed. “Crazy, busy lunch hour.”
“You can say that again.” Daryl smiled at her as he motioned to the kitchen area behind the fast-paced call-in counter. “Best barbecue I’ve had in years. And I’ve had a lot of ’cue in my time.”
Josie beamed. “I love hearing that. Thank you...?” She raised a brow, waiting for Daryl’s name, and Drew’s partner wasted no time. His quick appreciative smile said he was mighty pleased to meet her. Of course, the woman was quite good-looking, and that might have helped spike Daryl’s grin of appreciation.
“Daryl Jackson.” Josie shook Daryl’s hand as he indicated Drew with a quick thumb in Drew’s direction. “We’re on consultation in the area for a couple of months, and I can already predict where I’ll be eating for the duration.”
“Music to every restaurant owner’s ears.” Josie exchanged smiles with him, then turned to Amy. “I’m Josie Gallagher, Kimberly’s cousin. And you are?”
“Amy Slade. This is my dad, Drew. And I have to agree with Uncle Daryl. That was the best barbecue I’ve ever had. In my entire life.”
Drew cleared his throat, and Josie laughed. “My guess is you haven’t had as much as you think, but why not start with the best?”
“Which brings me right back to the matter at hand,” Kimberly told her. “I’m bidding on a last-minute late-September function and I think a multicourse, down-home Southern barbecue would be amazing.”
“As long as the hosts approve it,” Drew interrupted. “We don’t want to make assumptions on their behalf.”
They didn’t? Because wasn’t that exactly what Shelby had empowered her to do? Make things work? And now Drew was flexing muscle in the other direction as if they needed to run things by the bride and her mother. Which Kimberly had every intention of doing, so why was he interfering?
Oh. Wait. Because he was Drew Slade—that’s why. Bossy, assertive and a pain in the neck at the moment, no matter how good he looked in that ribbed black T-shirt and khakis. She sent him a long, cool look, an expression that she hoped telegraphed the feelings behind her words. “Of course, we need approvals, but there’s no way of getting them without pricing, is there, Josie?”
“No, ma’am.” Josie looked from Kimberly to Drew and back again, then smiled. “Give me the specs, and I’ll draw up an estimate with a suggested menu for