Fearless Love by Meg Benjamin Read Free Book Online Page B

guy in charge, gets a little carried away sometimes.”
    “A contest?”
    “Sort of. More like an exhibition. The Wine and Food Festival is a big deal around here. One day. Pulls in several hundred tourists. Up until now it’s been mainly the local wineries who get the attention. Craven wants to do something to feature the restaurants this year.” Craven had, in fact, come up with this idea after a particularly alcoholic lunch at the Rose.
    Fairley frowned as he looked at the letter again. “He says it’s going to be the climax of the day.”
    “That’s just because it’s the last thing they’re going to do. Two hours at the end when we do a sample dinner—appetizer, entrée and dessert. Four restaurants. The judges will give prizes for each.”
    “Like Top Chef or Chopped. ” Fairley gave him a delighted grin.
    Joe managed not to grimace in return. The last thing he wanted was to take part in some idiotic television contest. “Sort of like that. But we get to choose what we fix—they’re not giving us some half-assed basket of mystery ingredients.”
    “So we just go with our specialties, right?” Fairley looked faintly disappointed, like he’d been hoping for a chance to show what he could do with dried squid.
    “Not exactly.” Joe rubbed his eyes. “We won’t have a real stove to work on, just something one step up from a hot plate. They’re trying to get some ovens, but my guess is those won’t be restaurant quality either. So we have to come up with a menu that we could do on a goddamn Coleman camp stove if it came to that.”
    Fairley nodded slowly. “A challenge. Simple but good.”
    “Simple but good and original. And with a wow factor thrown in. Steak Diane isn’t going to cut it.”
    “No.” Fairley still looked serious. “That wouldn’t be right.”
    “Well, we got a few weeks to work on it. Give it some thought.”
    “Yes, sir.” Fairley nodded, his smile returning. Apparently, he’d forgotten all about the MG Carmody thing. He pushed himself to his feet, heading for the door. “I better go check on the lunch prep.”
    Joe watched him go, leaning back in his chair. Crisis averted. He stuck Craven’s letter back in the stack on his desk, promising himself he’d look at it later and knowing he might not. A contest on a camp stove. Crap on a stick.
    He rubbed a hand across his face, then smiled. The MG Carmody thing. MG Carmody in her red apron and ball cap, like a pixie transformed into a prep cook. At least she’d brighten up the kitchen at breakfast.
    Maybe things were looking up after all.

Chapter Five
    MG limped inside the house at four thirty, wanting nothing so much as a beer and a place to rest her feet. The sandals had seemed like a good idea when she’d put them on in the morning—they were comfortable and they looked okay. They’d work for standing around, which is what she’d expected to be doing. Besides, it was September in the Hill Country and most people still dressed to keep cool.
    Now she knew better. When she could bring herself to move again, she swore she’d dig out her running shoes. At least she’d finally get some real use out of them.
    She’d driven to the discount store at the edge of town and found a chef’s knife. It looked like Darcy’s but she was betting it wasn’t in the same class. Still, at least she’d have something with an edge on it.
    Once she pulled into the drive at the farm, she felt like groaning. Of course. She couldn’t put her feet up yet. She had the freaking chickens to deal with.
    Two more eggs lay in the nest boxes. Fortunately, the hens in question hadn’t felt like coming back and sitting on them since that would probably have resulted in cracked eggs. Hen Nine muttered curses at her from her new position on the roost. She knew it was Hen Nine even though the bird looked like all the others—Hen Nine’s nest box had been moved to the coolest part of the hen house, making it no longer fun for her to sit on and