Prey by Linda Howard

were above average. Maybe she wasn’t a great cook but she was a darn good one, and she enjoyed it when she had the time. When she’d lived in Billings, with access to a greater variety of ingredients, she’d liked experimenting with different dishes. Maybe someday she’d be able to try her hand at different stuff again, but right now all she could handle was the basic, hearty dishes. Part of this stew, for instance, had already been put in the freezer for next week, when she was back from this hunt. With nothing else on her books, and no anticipation of any further income for the next several months, she couldn’t afford to throw away any food.
    At ten to seven, Chad appeared in the door to the dining room. “Smells good,” he said.
    “Thank you.” She gave him a smile, keeping it neutral, but a smile all the same. “Mr. Davis is in the den, on his laptop.”
    Chad made an awkward gesture. “I won’t disturb him. Is there, ah, any way I can help?”
    “Just by eating your fill,” she replied. “Everything’s under control.” She checked the time. “The biscuits are ready to come out of the oven, so if you’ll excuse me—”
    “I’m sorry. Sure. I didn’t mean—”
    “You’re my guest,” she said, breaking in on his stammered apology. She tried another smile on him, hoping to settle him down. “It’ll take just a minute to bring in the food. I hope you like chocolate cake!”
    “I love it,” he said, looking relieved at the change of subject.
    Dinner conversation was going to be heavy-going, but at least she didn’t have to be in there, she reflected as she took the biscuits out of the oven and placed them in a napkin-lined bread basket, which she placed on a tray along with the big tureen of stew. She carried the tray into the dining room and set everything on the table, then put the tray aside. “What would you like to drink? I have milk, hot tea, coffee, and beer. Water, too, of course.”
    “Ah, beer.” He seemed a little self-conscious as he said it, though she couldn’t think why.
    “A beer for me, too,” said Mr. Davis as he came into the dining room.
    Angie returned to the kitchen, got two beers from the refrigerator, and poured them into glasses. As she set the glasses down in front of the men, Chad said, “Aren’t you eating with us?” When he’d been here before she’d done exactly that, but the company had been more convivial. She didn’t have any hard-and-fast rule about eating with clients, but neither did she believe in torturing herself if she could get out of it, so no way was she having a meal with these two tonight.
    “I’ve already eaten,” she said, which was a bald-faced lie, but so what? She’d get something to eat in the kitchen, either that or wait until she was cleaning up and have a bowl of stew then. She’d rather do without entirely than eat with them.
    “Have you scouted out the area where we’re going?” Davis asked as they sat down to eat.
    She paused on her way out of the dining room. “I have, a few days ago when I took supplies up to the camp I’ve leased. There was fresh bear sign.”
    “But you didn’t actually see a bear?”
    “No, but I wasn’t trying to. I didn’t want to make contact with one beforehand.” She’d been armed, of course, but she’d also been alone. Bears gave her the heebie-jeebies, even when she was with a hunting party, so she sure wasn’t about to go looking for one when she was by herself. That was something she’d keep to herself, of course; knowing your guide was afraid wasn’t something that would make a client feel confident.
    “So you don’t know if the bear is a decent size.”
    The tone of his voice made it plain he thought she’d already failed test number two of guiding, the first one being not having a shiny new dual-axle pickup like Dare Callahan’s. Chad looked embarrassed and fumbled his spoon, making a clattering noise when he dropped it on his plate. For his sake, Angie kept her voice