Read Online 5 Windy City Hunter by Maddie Cochere - Free Book Online
Authors: Maddie Cochere
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with these moods you know,” he said.
I thought I sensed a snappishness to his voice. Tears welled up in my eyes. He hung his head as I went into my bedroom and closed the door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Barbie! Ken! So good of you to come!”
I looked behind us, but as no one else was looking at the tall, lanky stranger coming our way, I could only assume he was talking to me and Darby … and I couldn’t have been more surprised to see him.
He had to be the same guy I saw at the Quickie Foods gas station on the south side of the city yesterday. His features were similar and he had the same dark hair. He was wearing a black and white checkered vest, and on his feet were black tennis shoes with pink laces. There couldn’t possibly be two men of the same build who wore black shoes with pink shoelaces.
A wave of dread came over me. First Wes from the gas station and now this guy. It was too weird and too much of a coincidence. This was something I would normally talk with Darby about, but I knew if I tried, he would send me home.
Darby laughed and stuck his hand out to return the offered handshake. “Hi, I’m Darby Tapley,” he said. “Number seventy-nine.”
“Craig Nettles,” the other guy responded. “Number eighty-one. I guess I’ll be across from you tomorrow.”
This was weirder still that out of one hundred contestants, he would be cooking so close to us. Darby and I had been on the lookout for our neighboring contestants, and this would put Craig on the station across from us and one over to the left.
“Susan Hunter,” Craig said slowly as he leaned in to look at my name tag. “Nice to meet you,” he said as he stuck his hand out for a handshake with me.
“Actually, it’s Susan Raines,” I said as I shook his hand. I turned to Darby and asked, “Why does everyone think my name is Susan Hunter? It happened at the condo, and my name tag is wrong here, too.”
“Well, it should say Barbie,” Craig said again with another laugh. “And yours should say Ken,” he said to Darby. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen two prettier people together. You look like giant dolls.”
I didn’t know if he was simply friendly and a funny guy, or if he was mildly insulting us, but Darby was laughing. He and I always did make a nice-looking couple when we were together. Not as great as Mick’s dark looks next to my fair ones, but Darby and I could almost pass for brother and sister, and he did look pretty great tonight. His hair was tousled to perfection, and the bright lighting of the room made his steel blue eyes sparkle more than usual. He was wearing black jeans and a deep scarlet sweater paired with a black, collared shirt underneath. We matched well, and Craig seemed to think the Barbie and Ken angle was funny.
We had already said hello to easily more than fifty people. There was a wonderful mix of contestants and assistants. We had met a 22-year-old girl who was making a pot roast pot pie, and an 80-year-old man who was making a shrimp, bacon, and cheese appetizer. Everyone was excited, and the reception felt like a holiday party.
We had been on our way to the hors d'oeuvres tables for a second round of scrumptious food, created by some of the finest chefs in Chicago, when Craig stopped us.
Darby turned to me and said, “I don’t think Uncle Jack knows you’re married. I don’t talk to him very often, and I don’t know if it ever came up, so when he gave Terry our names, he must have given yours as Susan Hunter. And I probably made a mistake on my entry form for the contest. I know it’s been almost a year, but it’s such a habit to write Susan Hunter, I must have written it that way on the form. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a problem,” I told him with a smile. “I was just surprised to hear it and see it on this trip.”
“Where are you two from?” Craig asked.
“Northeast Ohio,” Darby said. “And you?”
“Right here in the Windy City,” he said. “I love these
I thought I sensed a snappishness to his voice. Tears welled up in my eyes. He hung his head as I went into my bedroom and closed the door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Barbie! Ken! So good of you to come!”
I looked behind us, but as no one else was looking at the tall, lanky stranger coming our way, I could only assume he was talking to me and Darby … and I couldn’t have been more surprised to see him.
He had to be the same guy I saw at the Quickie Foods gas station on the south side of the city yesterday. His features were similar and he had the same dark hair. He was wearing a black and white checkered vest, and on his feet were black tennis shoes with pink laces. There couldn’t possibly be two men of the same build who wore black shoes with pink shoelaces.
A wave of dread came over me. First Wes from the gas station and now this guy. It was too weird and too much of a coincidence. This was something I would normally talk with Darby about, but I knew if I tried, he would send me home.
Darby laughed and stuck his hand out to return the offered handshake. “Hi, I’m Darby Tapley,” he said. “Number seventy-nine.”
“Craig Nettles,” the other guy responded. “Number eighty-one. I guess I’ll be across from you tomorrow.”
This was weirder still that out of one hundred contestants, he would be cooking so close to us. Darby and I had been on the lookout for our neighboring contestants, and this would put Craig on the station across from us and one over to the left.
“Susan Hunter,” Craig said slowly as he leaned in to look at my name tag. “Nice to meet you,” he said as he stuck his hand out for a handshake with me.
“Actually, it’s Susan Raines,” I said as I shook his hand. I turned to Darby and asked, “Why does everyone think my name is Susan Hunter? It happened at the condo, and my name tag is wrong here, too.”
“Well, it should say Barbie,” Craig said again with another laugh. “And yours should say Ken,” he said to Darby. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen two prettier people together. You look like giant dolls.”
I didn’t know if he was simply friendly and a funny guy, or if he was mildly insulting us, but Darby was laughing. He and I always did make a nice-looking couple when we were together. Not as great as Mick’s dark looks next to my fair ones, but Darby and I could almost pass for brother and sister, and he did look pretty great tonight. His hair was tousled to perfection, and the bright lighting of the room made his steel blue eyes sparkle more than usual. He was wearing black jeans and a deep scarlet sweater paired with a black, collared shirt underneath. We matched well, and Craig seemed to think the Barbie and Ken angle was funny.
We had already said hello to easily more than fifty people. There was a wonderful mix of contestants and assistants. We had met a 22-year-old girl who was making a pot roast pot pie, and an 80-year-old man who was making a shrimp, bacon, and cheese appetizer. Everyone was excited, and the reception felt like a holiday party.
We had been on our way to the hors d'oeuvres tables for a second round of scrumptious food, created by some of the finest chefs in Chicago, when Craig stopped us.
Darby turned to me and said, “I don’t think Uncle Jack knows you’re married. I don’t talk to him very often, and I don’t know if it ever came up, so when he gave Terry our names, he must have given yours as Susan Hunter. And I probably made a mistake on my entry form for the contest. I know it’s been almost a year, but it’s such a habit to write Susan Hunter, I must have written it that way on the form. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a problem,” I told him with a smile. “I was just surprised to hear it and see it on this trip.”
“Where are you two from?” Craig asked.
“Northeast Ohio,” Darby said. “And you?”
“Right here in the Windy City,” he said. “I love these
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