Country Heaven by Ava Miles Read Free Book Online Page A

her.” Rye reached for a fireball from the crystal bowl. The flavor was as strong as five–alarm salsa. His eyes watered. “Doesn’t seem right, using her that way. Besides, she’s not even my type.”
    Clayton slapped his hat on his head. “She’s pretty and petite. I’ve always liked that in a woman.”
    “Then why don’t you go after her?”
    “I’m not the one with the image problem.” He slung his hands from his belt loops. “So, we’ll leak a story about what you did at the diner with the thousand dollars and how you’re helping this down–on–her–luck cook.”
    He’d had to do a lot of crap in the business, but he’d never pretended to date anyone like other celebrities did. Wasn’t it just his luck that he’d be using a nice woman who was going to find the whole thing repellant. “I hate this.”
    “You have to turn the tide now. Rye, we lost another sponsor.”
    “Who?” he asked, dread heavy in his belly.
    “Levis.”
    “Shit.” No one had to tell him how huge that was. “Okay, we’ll try, but if the press doesn’t help, I’m putting a stop to it.”
    “Well, well, someone sounds a little guilty. I haven’t seen any signs of a conscience from you in years.”
    Rye flipped him the bird.
    Clayton moved to the door. “And try to be charming. If we’re going to suggest you’re falling for your anti–type, it would help if she actually looks like she’s into you.”
    “No need to worry about that. Women fall for me all the time.”
    Clayton had the audacity to tip his hat as he left. “Somehow I think she’ll be a tougher nut to crack. The girl’s got spine, and you haven’t come across that in some while.”
    Rye picked up a boot from the floor and pelted it against the closing door. Jackass. Interfering son of a bitch. What the hell did he know? He could make anyone fall for him. Soon she’d be eating out of his hands—even if she was the one doing the cooking.

Being the cook at Diner Heaven for nearly thirty years, my Grandma Simmons dealt with some pretty mean truck drivers. They’d come in off the highway with bloodshot eyes and bark at the waitresses. One particular man was so mean, she fixed him a special stack of pancakes, certain they’d improve his disposition. Grandma believed the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, but she didn’t think food’s power stopped there. She talked about the emotional reactions all people had to food. The mean truck driver wasn’t growling anymore after eating her special pancakes, so she added them to the menu with great success.
     
    Truck Driver Pancakes
1½ cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
¼ cup sugar
½ tsp. salt
¼ cup cocoa
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup milk
½ cup butter, melted and cooled
½ cup chocolate chips
     
    Combine the dry ingredients. Add the eggs, milk, and butter. Stir. Add the chocolate chips. Shape into pancakes on the griddle and cook. Serve with maple syrup or bittersweet chocolate ganache.
    Tory Simmons’ Simmering Family Cookbook

Chapter 3
    M aple bacon strips crackled and popped on the stove. Tory arranged the bowls holding the wet and dry ingredients for the pancakes and strained to hear if her boss was coming down the hall. His guitar had broadcast an angry melody not long ago, so she knew he was awake. Plus, he’d said he wanted to eat at ten o’clock. Her fork whisked the eggs for the tenth time.
    Today’s breakfast was critical. She planned to have him eating out of her hands.
    Her finger trailed down her grandma’s recipe in the makeshift binder she’d created. She could tame the beast with food—just like her grandma had taught her. And she’d start with her Truck Driver pancakes.
    Boots clunked down the hall, and then Rye appeared in the doorway, his face cleanly shaven save for the goatee. He tipped his hat—a white one today—and smiled.
    “Mornin’. Smells good in here.” And then his gaze dipped lower.
    She tucked her hands into the pockets of the only apron she’d found