Finding His Lone Star Love. Amy Woods

it is, out with it. Now,” Lucy demanded, sparing only a second to toss a serious look at her friend before getting back to work.

      “Tell me straight, Lu. I know it’s been a while since you had a decent date, but starting fires just to get a hot firefighter out here is no way to go about catching a man.”

      For a second, Lucy had no clue what Tessa was talking about, but then the unmistakable scent of scorched flour and butter hit her nostrils with full force.

      “Oh my gosh, Tess!” Lucy said, tossing aside the bread and knife and making her way to the stacked ovens on the other side of the kitchen, as if her life depended on it. The way things were going, it might indeed. “My pies!”

      For a second she froze, unable to do more than stand still, shocked, afraid to open the oven and face the inevitable pastry carnage. Thankfully, adrenaline took over.

      Her previous impishness wiped away, Tessa rushed over to join her friend. Lucy tossed a set of oven mitts at her. “Here, put these on,” Lucy said, cloaking her own hands in another pair. “You pull out the rack and I’ll grab the pies. We might be able to rescue the ones on the top shelf if we’re quick.”

      Tessa took the mitts and followed Lucy’s instructions, but Lucy saw doubt crease her forehead as she pulled out pie after pie, the crust of each more burned than the one before. “Lu,” Tessa said, shaking her head in defeat, “I know less about cooking than you—and that’s saying something—and I hate to mention it, but...I really don’t think these are salvageable.”

      The last pie retrieved from the oven of doom, Lucy pulled her hands out of the mitts and grabbed the bread knife. She began cutting off the charred pieces of crust and singed chunks of her special oatmeal-pecan topping, ignoring Tessa’s words. She had to save the pies. Otherwise, there would only be plain sandwiches to serve her guests, and there was no way she could let all those kids and their parents and teachers return to their schools in Austin, thinking that the Lonestar Café had such poor service. The place was in enough financial trouble already.

      The Lonestar Observatory had much higher standards in serving guests. In particular, its café was known for delicious, home-cooked Southern comfort food, just the way it had been when Lucy’s dad was in charge of everything. He had ensured that everything in the facility was top-notch, from providing the latest stargazing equipment available, to seeing that the café served only the best cuisine. Her dad had received his PhD in astronomy with high recommendations and, instead of becoming a professor as all of his instructors expected, he, along with her mom, had accepted the local university’s offer to head the small observatory, just a few months before Lucy was born.

      Her dad had died the day after her twenty-fifth birthday. Lucy convinced the university to let her take over managing the observatory, on the condition that she hired a properly credentialed expert in the field to stand in as official director. Despite not finishing formal training in astronomy, Lucy knew the observatory better than any of the scientists interviewed for her father’s job before the university admitted she was best for the position. She’d learned everything she needed to know from her dad, first toddling along as he checked the telescopes each day, all the way through high school and her first semesters of college, when she’d begun her own research projects to advance the field. And the director, sweet Dr. Blake, who looked and behaved more like Santa Claus than a scientist—which described the rest of the observatory’s employees—respected Lucy enough to let her have her way in running the place. It wasn’t the same as being a true scientist, but it would have to do. She’d wanted to be an astronomer since she was a little girl, learning constellations and galaxies at her father’s side, and if she had a spare second, she might admit that she regretted not being able to finish school.

      But Lucy didn’t have time for regrets.

      Everything aside, more than her job and her life and the means by which she was able to take care of her niece, Shiloh, the Lonestar was Lucy’s home. It was where she’d been raised and where she’d learned to look up when things in her own world weren’t going well. It was the only place on the planet where she felt whole and centered; she would do anything to keep it running like a well-oiled machine, even when funding was low or when struggles with Shiloh tested her patience. Or when love-struck chefs quit at the last minute.

      So this was about more than burned pies.

      It was about letting down her dad—the only man she’d ever been able to trust.

      Tessa had come to her side and was attempting to pry the knife out of Lucy’s hands. Finally, warm tears pooling behind her eyes, Lucy let her friend take the utensil as she sank to the floor, settling her face in her hands. “Dad would be so disappointed if he saw what a disaster this is,” Lucy said as she fought against the tears that threatened to escape. “He would never have let this kind of thing happen to this place.” She raised her head and peered at Tessa through her bangs, which stuck out all over and clung to her glasses, frizzy and wild from the chaos of the past half hour.

      “Shhh,” Tessa soothed, setting down the knife and crouching beside her friend. She brushed aside Lucy’s frazzled hair. “You know that’s not true, hon. You’re just having a rough time lately, and you’re stressed. Your daddy loved you more than he loved the stars. And that’s saying something.” Tessa lifted Lucy’s chin with her finger and stared into Lucy’s eyes, a mischievous smirk behind her own. “But one thing I do know—he would not have let you set foot in this kitchen without supervision, not even to make a few pies. That’s for damn sure.” Tessa smiled and Lucy felt her chest relax, ever so slightly. She reached up and wiped at her eyes, then made a fist and softly brushed Tessa’s chin in a mock punch. Tessa laughed and the melodious sound of it was almost enough to coax a smile out of Lucy.

      Almost—but not quite.

      She’d made such a mess of things today. And, even though her best friend had a way of making her feel better, the world still awaited her, and something had to be done about the hungry crowd waiting outside the door. And there were afternoon tours scheduled back-to-back, quarterly tax forms to review and Shiloh to meet at the bus stop. Lucy closed her eyes and sighed, concentrating all her effort on taking one deep breath after the other. This wasn’t the first time she’d had more responsibility than any one person could possibly handle, and it was highly unlikely that it would be the last. She would just have to buck up, make the sandwiches and tackle the rest later, then find some way to deal with the fact that, for today, her beloved place— her home—had poorer pickings than a fast-food joint.

      * * *

      Sam Haynes had bitten off more than he could chew. He’d assumed the drive to Peach Leaf would be a piece of cake after making the trip to Austin from Houston when his plane had landed that morning, but clearly he’d underestimated the distance. The Texas road stretched on forever and looked much the same the whole way, save for a few tiny towns along the route, and not a Starbucks in sight. Hills with clusters of trees here and there, but mostly dust, dust—and more dust. And real tumbleweeds, which Sam had only seen in his grandfather’s beloved old black-and-white Westerns. It was true what they said— everything was bigger here—including, unfortunately, the highways.

      Luckily, he’d seen the sign for Peach Leaf about a mile-and-a-half back, shining like an oasis in the desert, and there couldn’t be that much farther left to go—he hoped. A native New Yorker, Sam wasn’t used to driving this much, and he’d got to the point where he’d do just about anything this side of the law to get a decent meal and a bed for the night. And he’d die for a strong cup of coffee.

      His journey had been long in more ways than one.

      He’d received a phone call about his daughter’s whereabouts from the PI he’d hired a few weeks prior, just when he’d been about ready to jump out of his skin from the wait. The guy seemed sure this time—he’d really found her. Sam had thought such a feat near impossible, given how little he had to go on, but the investigator had come with high recommendations from a friend mindful enough not to ask pressing questions, and sure enough, the guy had accomplished the task. After taking a few days off to process the news and make some plans, Sam had notified the