telling you, Adam, you won’t find a better cook than Harriet, and I’m not just saying that because I’m her father.”
Adam shifted in his seat. Ken looked so darn keen that alarm bells began to ring in Adam’s head. He’d better get out of this ward fast before he made a decision he’d later regret. Bitterly.
“Ken,” he said. “The last thing I want is for you to fret over the Harvest Ball. It’s no big deal that you can’t do the catering. And it’s kind of you to offer Harriet in your place, but I’m sure she’d rather be taking care of you than worrying about menus and supplies. Take it from me, the Harvest Ball will still be a success.” He rose to his feet, determined to make his escape. “Now I’ll leave you two in peace. Good night.”
Harriet threw an angry glance at Adam’s retreating back. She knew how the idea of her getting involved in his precious ball would irritate him, but did he have to stampede out of the ward like that?
Her father leaned back against his pillows with an exhausted sigh. “It would mean a lot to me if you did the catering.”
A moment ago he’d been so energetic, but now his complexion was pallid and he looked drained. “Why, Dad? Why is that so important to you?”
“Because…” He turned his head to look at her fully. “If you did this you’d feel you could hold your head high in this town again. You’ve had a love-hate relationship with the people here for too long. This is your home town. You should be able to come here whenever you want, not just when your old man lands in hospital.” He pleated the edge of his sheet, embarrassment clouding his face. “And besides, I’d be so proud of you if you took over the catering. I know you’d be a cracker at it.”
Harriet’s throat closed up. Her father was ashamed of her. No, that was too harsh. He wasn’t ashamed of her, but he couldn’t boast about her like any other father discussing his daughter. All these years, and she hadn’t even been aware of it. And maybe he was right about her love-hate relationship with Wilmot. Maybe she was tired of staying away.
She gulped. “You really want me to do this?”
His face softened into a smile. “You’d do me proud, and you’d do yourself proud. Plus you’d be doing Adam a big favour.”
Harriet sighed. She doubted Adam would see it that way. She’d seen the way his face had tightened up at Ken’s suggestion. He hated the thought of her meddling with his Harvest Ball. Well, tough luck. She’d been running away from Wilmot for so many years and disappointing her dad in the process, but it was time to change all that. She would give Wilmot the best Harvest Ball dinner they’d ever tasted, and make her dad proud. She pushed to her feet, fresh determination coursing through her veins.
“All right,” she said to her father. “I’ll just run after Adam and tell him I’ll do it.”
Yeah, right, a derisive voice muttered at the back of her mind. As if Adam would just say sure, why not? Go ahead and make my day . She’d dealt with difficult customers before, but never with someone whose mere presence reduced her to a hot and bothered mess. She recalled the way her body had reacted when his shoulder had brushed her cheek earlier that day, and her pulse had beat faster.
“Adam!” She pelted after him. A couple of nurses turned to stare, but she didn’t care. Adam paused beside his pickup, his hand on the door handle, his face hidden in shadows. She arrived panting at his side.
“I thought we’d agreed to avoid each other as much as possible,” he said. “But you seem determined to chase after me at every opportunity.”
His sarcasm nicked her, but she put her personal feelings to one side. “I’d…like…to…do the catering,” she puffed, “for your Harvest Ball.”
He swapped his car keys from one hand to the other as he considered her. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
She flushed at his brisk dismissal. “Now, look here!” she
Learning to Kill: Stories