Kiss Me, Katie! & Hug Me, Holly!

“That’s it. Why don’t you just sit on back down now and relax?”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff.” He shook his head. “I like you too much to cause any trouble here. You can sit back down, too.”

Riley nodded and smiled warmly as he did just that. “Good man, Dan.”

“But I ain’t coming back. Not without Marge serving me. She never spilled water on me that made my d-” He broke off and cleared his throat. “I miss her already.”

Holly was just relieved that she was still among the living, and that Dan didn’t do anything else but finish drying off before walking out.

Without tipping her.

The entire room had fallen silent, which wasn’t saying much since she had only three other tables with people at them.

Oh, and the grinning sheriff-she couldn’t forget him.

Without a word, she went into the kitchen. What an idiot, she told herself. Spilling water like a nervous little ninny. She wasn’t nervous!

And she wasn’t a ninny! She was Holly Stone, woman with nerves of steel.

Determined, she searched the huge refrigerator and came up with a fresh apple pie-thank God. Renewed with hope, she went back out to offer it to her dwindling customer base.

“Looking good,” Riley said as she passed him.

She wondered if he meant the pie or her, but then she figured he must have meant the pie because she was still wearing hot pink over red silk, for God’s sake, not to mention she was beginning to sweat.

She looked about as far from good as you could get.

“Uh…Holly?” Riley called out to her. “Holly!”

He spoke earnestly, but knowing he just wanted to rub her failures in, she kept going. With her hands full she couldn’t see her feet, and in the aisle between the counter and the tables, she tripped over a lump that screeched “meow!”

The pie flew through the air and landed on the lap of the woman with the perpetually slipping glasses.

Mindy, the librarian, she told Holly, swiping the pie off her glasses.

She didn’t tip when she left, either.

On her hands and knees, Holly scrubbed at the floor, trying not to acknowledge the self-pity threatening to swallow her whole.

Only three feet away from her were the long legs of the sheriff. He still sat, calm as you please, at the counter.

With all her might, she wished she’d spilled the pie on him.

Harry, who was freshly awoken from his nap, thanks to her, leaped to the counter. Right in front of her, only inches away from Riley’s drink, he sat down and began to wash himself.

Oh, perfect. Her customers were dwindling fast, and she had a big, fat, ugly cat sitting on the counter, cleaning his paws.

Disgusted, she stood and tried to shoo him off.

Clearly insulted, Harry leaped again, aiming for the closest table. According to Murphy’s Law, this was naturally one of the few tables actually occupied by a paying guest.

The man there stroked Harry. “Don’t worry about that mean woman who hates cats,” he crooned, glaring at Holly.

From behind Holly came something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Whirling, she glared at Riley, but he was just sitting there, looking guileless.

She sent him a long look for good measure, but he simply leaned back, stretched his lean, toned body out, put his hands behind his head and winked at her.

The man who Harry had practically attacked was heading for the front door.

“I’m sorry,” she called, but he just lifted a hand and kept going.

He stiffed her, too.

Let’s see…she’d probably just cost the cafe an entire day’s wages, all in an hour. Had to be a personal record for failure, and exhausted at just the thought, she sank into the nearest chair.

And sat on Harry.

RILEY WOKE UP a hungry man. Really hungry.

He hadn’t gotten lucky last night. Holly had closed Cafe Nirvana-his usual dinner haunt-early. He could have whipped up something in his own kitchen, except for the fact that he really hated to cook. He could run an entire ranch practically by himself. He could patrol a county that had more square miles than he could count. He could bring peace to a room faster than he could blink, with just a smile and some sweet words, and enjoy all of it.

But ask him to so much as boil water for tea and he would find something, anything, else to do. Even go hungry.

Apparently Holly felt the same way, which gave them something in common, an uncomfortable feeling for him. He felt much easier when he didn’t like her. She was just playing here, just passing through.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

Hopefully she’d run for the hills-or the nearest city-by now. Yeah. Given her success rate of exactly zero yesterday, she’d probably done just that. The entire town would be grateful.

So would he.

He came into his house after doing some chores and stopped short in the doorway of his kitchen. Standing by the work island was Maria, his housekeeper. In front of her was a breakfast fit for a king, and also a bagged…lunch? His mouth watered at the thought, even as he knew it couldn’t be true. Maria didn’t like him enough to cook for him, twice.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, knowing she came only twice a week, if she was in the mood, to clean up after him. He wasn’t particularly proud of the fact that she was necessary.

But she’d been there just the day before. He knew because he’d had clean sheets, fresh towels and the dishes he’d stacked for the past few days-he kept meaning to get to them but somehow never managed it-had been washed and put back in the cupboard where they belonged.

Maria ignored his question and shoved him into a chair, a considerable feat considering she was barely four feet tall to his six plus. Her wide girth apparently gave her the strength of four men.

Without a word of greeting, or even a smile, she set the plate of delicious-smelling food in front of him. “Eat,” she commanded in heavily accented English. “I do not have all day to clean your dishes.”

No one had to tell him twice. Riley started shoving the most amazing food in his mouth. Omelette smothered in cheese, a mountain of bacon on the side, crispy just the way he liked it, and another mountain of sourdough toast, slathered in butter.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said, then moaned around another mouthful. “This is the best food I’ve ever tasted.”

“You’re half-starving, what does a half-starving man know?”

“I know good food,” he promised her. “And this is it.”

“A man who works as hard as you cannot go without eating. That Holly What’s-Her-Name is going to be the death of you.”

No doubt. “You’ve never worried about me before.”

“You had the cafe before,” Maria pointed out. She slammed a pan into the sink and turned on the water. “What were the Mendozas thinking, letting someone like that take over?” She switched to Spanish then, letting off a rapid- fire monologue Riley couldn’t begin to follow.

“Why are you here?” he asked when she’d run out of steam. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added quickly when she glared at him. “I’m grateful for the food, more than you know, but-”

“I heard about the Nirvana shutting down.”

“It’s not shutting down, it’s just-”

“Not serving food a dog could eat.”

“Well, I think there’s a mix-up. I’m sure it’ll get resolved.”

“She doesn’t know how to cook.”