Margaret moved to set the pitcher of sweet tea on the table and Travis intervened, lifting the pitcher from her hands and gesturing toward the table.
“Where would you like it?” he asked.
Margaret pointed to the center of the table. “There, please. Thank you.”
“Travis, can I get you a beer?” Red asked as he turned off the fryer. “One’s chillin’ in the fridge with your name on it.”
Hannah returned to her seat and glanced at Travis. Light pink bloomed along his cheekbones. Imagine that. A big, strong man like that actually . . . blushing?
“No, thanks,” Travis said. “I don’t drink.”
Red cocked his head to the side. “Never?”
“No. Never.”
“Well, ain’t that a first.” Red grinned and looked at Margaret. “He doesn’t drive anymore either. Never met a man who doesn’t do at least one of those. Anything else you don’t do that I should be aware of?”
Travis’s cheeks turned even redder as he stared at the empty beer bottles on the table.
“Not all men need alcohol to relax,” Margaret said quietly. “I think it’s an admirable trait.”
Hannah squirmed in her chair, wondering if Red realized his misstep. He hadn’t meant it that way—of course he hadn’t. But Margaret, having lost her daughter, Niki, in a car accident to a drunk driver, would interpret his comments less flippantly.
Red’s grin slowly faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“To keep us all waiting,” Hannah finished for him. Gracious, the last thing any of them needed were more awkward moments, and as she’d been the cause of most of them today, she was eager to avoid another. “I’m starving.” She reached out, took Margaret’s hand in hers, and squeezed gently. “What about you, Margaret? We haven’t had a decent trout dinner in ages. I bet I can put away at least two times the number of fillets you do.”
After a moment, Margaret squeezed her hand back and smiled at Red. “Yes. Get a move on, Red. You have three very hungry people who demand to be fed. You’re in for a treat, Travis. Red’s fried fish and hush puppies are the finest in east Tennessee.”
Relaxing, Red laughed softly. “Only if they’re coupled with your potato salad.”
“Then Travis is in luck.” Margaret released Hannah’s hand and headed toward the lodge. “I made a fresh batch and will have it on the table in a jiff.”
Travis, Hannah noted, remained silent, his attention following Red’s movements as he collected the empty beer bottles and tossed them in a nearby trash can.
A jiff and ten minutes later, all four of them were seated at the table, had said the blessing and dug into a belly-warming spread of fried trout fillets, hush puppies, potato salad, apple pie, and multiple refills of sweet tea. The flaming logs popped and crackled in the fireplace, ice clinked in glasses, and the sun slowly descended behind the mountain peaks in the distance, prompting the strings of solar lights that Margaret had hung around the deck railings to glow softly around them.
The temperature dipped and the chill in the night air turned brisk as they finished their meal. Red discussed his fishing techniques with Travis, a hint of pride in his voice, and Margaret slipped in a few personal questions that Travis responded to with vague generalizations or sidestepped altogether.
Hannah sneaked glances at him every now and then. He hadn’t said much or looked up from his plate more than three times during the entire meal. His strong hands moved slowly as he reached for his glass of tea and adjusted his napkin in his lap, and twice, he’d met her eyes briefly before refocusing on his plate.
Soon, Margaret served everyone a cup of hot coffee and Red threw another log on the fire. On the way back to his chair, Red paused to lift Margaret’s cardigan from the back of her chair and tucked it around her shoulders. She thanked him quietly as she stirred cream in her coffee.
Hannah smiled. Something about Margaret always brought out the gentleman in Red. He was a good man. The only man Hannah trusted. And despite the presence of a quiet stranger at the table, tonight was one of those increasingly rare but relaxed evenings at Paradise Peak Ranch when a hard day of work had been followed with an abundance of good food, pleasant company, and momentary relief from financial worries. Even the smoke still rising from the distant mountain was easy to ignore when its scent was masked by the smoke from the small, cozy fireplace on the deck.
Sated, with a belly stuffed full to bursting, Hannah eased back in her chair, stretched her weary limbs, and closed her eyes. “Oh, Margaret, I’ll wash every fancy dish in the cabinets and mop every floor in the lodge if you and Red serve up another meal like this next week.”
Margaret lifted her coffee mug to her lips and smiled. “I take it you enjoyed it?”
“It was delicious.”
“And the swan napkins?” Margaret asked. “Did you like those, too?”
Hannah cracked one eye open, shared a look with Red, who covered his smile by rubbing his mustache, then grinned. “I loved the swan napkins. The meal wouldn’t have been the same without them.”
“Wonderful!” Margaret sipped her coffee, then returned her cup to its saucer. “When business picks up, I’m going to make them every night for dinner in the banquet hall. Swan napkins and fresh flower arrangements on every table. They’ll become a permanent fixture of Paradise Peak Ranch.” She made a sweeping motion with her hands. “‘Elegant dining in a majestic setting’ could be our slogan.”
Hannah stifled a groan.
“Everything was delicious. Thank you for inviting me.”
The gentle rumble of Travis’s voice drifted across the table, sending a delicious tingle over her skin. She kept her eyes closed and sagged further back in her chair. She refused to give in to the aggravating impulse to admire his handsome profile again.
“You’re invited to breakfast, too, Travis,” Margaret said. China clinked as she lowered her cup again. “I try my best to have it on the table by seven every morning.”
A soft palm patted the back of Hannah’s wrist.
“Hannah works so hard,” Margaret continued. “So does Red. It’s the least I can do.”
“We all do our fair share, you included,” Red said. “And speaking of work—I got a call from Carl Lennox earlier this afternoon.”
Hannah opened her eyes and sat up. Carl managed the stables at Misty Ridge Stables—the best riding outfit in Paradise Peak—and he had a knack for picking out horses with the most potential. “Has he spotted a horse for us?”
Red nodded. “A mare. Young, fearful. Was hurt pretty badly wherever she came from. Carl said when he saw her, the first person he thought of was you.”
Hannah stood. “Where is she? When can I pick her up?”
Red threw up his hand. “Now, hold up. We’ll get to that. First, we need to fix that stable roof. There’s rain in the forecast for Tuesday afternoon and, as glad as I am to have this drought broken, that means we got to get a move on fixin’ those leaks. You can’t be banging on that rickety roof with a terrified animal housed under it.”
“Not a problem.” Hannah headed for the stairs leading to the field. “I’ll get Ruby and Juno settled, turn in for the night, and start on it at first light. That way, it’ll be finished tomorrow, and I can go pick up the horse Tuesday morning.”