Patricia Johns – Her Cowboy Boss (страница 8)

“That’s a more honest answer.” She smiled weakly. “Sorry. It must have been painful.”

“Yeah, I got over it.”

“How long ago was it?” she asked.

“Five years.”

“I don’t think you’re over it,” she said, flicking off the mixer. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that he nearly laughed.

“You don’t know me,” he retorted, stopping in midslice with a bagel. “How do you know what I’m over?”

“Are you married?” she asked. “Girlfriend? Fiancée?”

“No.”

“You’re good-looking, fit, technically available...” Her gaze moved over him from head to toe, then color suffused her cheeks. “If you were over her, you’d be snapped up.”

She thought he was good-looking, did she? He liked that. And she had a bit of a point—he wasn’t really available. He was no idealistic young cowpoke who thought love could conquer all. He was dusted up, scraped over and a little more cynical about the longevity of relationships. He and Vickie hadn’t just split up, she’d left him for a guy she’d met online.

“How long were you married?” she asked.

“Twelve years. We got married right out of high school,” he said.

“Ouch.” She cast him a pitying look, and he scowled. He didn’t need sympathy.

“So what about you?” he asked. “You said you didn’t have anyone waiting for you.”

“I was dating a guy,” she said. “Can you reach those for me?”

Her change in topic was slightly jarring, and he looked over to see what she was referring to. There were some metal pans high on a shelf, and he put down the knife and sauntered over to where she stood. The soft scent of whatever perfume she was wearing tugged at him as he reached for the pans and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she said. “So I was dating a guy, but it didn’t work out.”

They stood facing each other, her chin tipped up so she could look him in the face. She was young, so much prettier than he could easily deflect. He felt old and disillusioned next to her. He felt like he should shut up, not ruin what was left of her innocence. She’d get to his position soon enough, and it was almost cruel to hurry that process. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d marry some guy who would adore her and let her take care of the finances.

“So what went wrong?” he asked. “And you can’t use we grew apart.”

“He wasn’t the right one,” she said. She made it sound so simple and obvious, but he doubted that the guy who lost her felt that way. He had a feeling the poor schmuck was probably still licking his wounds, wondering what went wrong. She turned away from him and headed toward the side-by-side stoves. She turned a couple of dials, opened the ovens, stuck a hand in.

“I think that’s turned on,” she said.

“So how did you know he wasn’t right?” Hank asked. “What line did you give him?”

“He wanted me to sell the flower shop,” she said, her back to him. “And if he knew me at all, he would have known that store meant more to me than money.” Avery turned around to face him, meeting his eyes with her frank gaze.

“How recently was this?” he asked.

“Last month.”

Avery picked up the first pan of corn bread and slid it into the oven.

“The oven isn’t on,” he said.

“What? No, I just—” She put her hand into the oven again, then frowned.

He stepped up to the stove and turned the correct dial, then flicked the oven switch. Color tinged her cheeks.

“And that’s what you told him?” he asked, letting her mistake go. “That he didn’t know you well enough?” Why was he so curious about her breakup? For some reason, he needed to know what the poor guy had been through.

“I said it wasn’t him, it was me. And it wasn’t his fault. Not really. That store is my home.”

“I get it,” Hank said. It was like his connection to the land and the cattle. Vickie had never been able to understand that it wasn’t a choice. The open range just kept tugging him back. Home was something hardwired inside a person, something that called and called, no matter how hard a man tried to walk away. Home trumped logic. It could be ignored for a time, pushed aside for a while, but it couldn’t be denied forever—not even for the strongest principles. In his opinion, it wasn’t growing apart that ended a couple. It was starting out apart and never growing together.

Somewhere in Kansas there was another guy nursing a broken heart, and Hank felt a strange camaraderie with the man. They were like soldiers who’d served in the same war, or survivors who’d gone through the same tornado. There was some unspoken bond between men who’d been through the wringer.

Women were complicated, and Avery looked more so than the rest. What did that say about his morbid curiosity that he still wanted to figure Avery out?

Chapter Four

Avery looked down into the blackened bottom of the oatmeal pot. Granted, she’d never made oatmeal in such a large quantity before, but she really hadn’t expected to mess it up. Even with milk and brown sugar, it tasted rather smoky.

The corn bread had turned out a little dense, but surprisingly tasty. The eight dozen boiled eggs had gone over well, as had the bacon—she couldn’t fry it up fast enough for the hungry men. By the time they were finished eating, she’d been exhausted.

Avery gathered some empty serving trays and backed up against the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The men were donning hats once more and heading out. Hank stood on the far side the room, his gaze fixed on her.

Had she done well? It was better than last night’s supper. She let the kitchen door swing shut behind her and carried the crumb-laden trays to the counter. She put them down with a clatter and heaved a sigh.

Hank poked his head into the kitchen just as she was turning back for her second trip.

“Not bad,” he said.

“Except for the oatmeal,” she replied with a grimace. “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah... We’ll work on that.”

At least she wasn’t fired—that was something. And it was an improvement over the stew. Hank had left her a schedule for what to cook when, and tonight’s menu was chili, biscuits and baked potatoes. Fingers crossed for that one.

“I can’t stay here today—duty calls. So you’re on your own,” Hank said, then he paused, shot her a questioning look.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I actually make a very good chili.”

Hers was from a can, but she did add in extra beef and some chunky vegetables...and she’d been complimented on it, too. And while she wouldn’t have forty cans of chili to start her off, she would have some online recipes. And most of the day to figure things out.

“If you need me...” He didn’t have to finish that. She had his cell number.

“I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t feel quite as confident as she sounded, but with the odd looks she got from Hank when she checked out YouTube tutorials, maybe being on her own would be easier.

“Okay,” he said, giving her a curt nod. “See you later.”

Hank disappeared behind the swinging door, and just for a moment, she wished she had an excuse to call him back. Hank was the closest thing she had to a friend here on her father’s ranch...and she liked his company. He didn’t smile quickly or easily, but when he did, she felt like she’d achieved something. He was serious and self-contained—an open challenge to her more outgoing personality. She was curious about his life, too—what forces had created the solemn cowboy? But Hank wasn’t here to hold her hand, no matter how nice it might be to have a rugged cowboy fixing that intense gaze on her all day long. She blushed at the thought. Hank was good-looking, but it was more than lanky height and clear blue eyes...he had the air of a man who was experienced in life, and while she knew she had no business meddling with him, it did make her take notice.

You’re too young for him to take you seriously. She could hear what her mother would say in that place in the back of her mind where Winona’s voice would always live. Don’t lose your heart to a man who isn’t losing his.

Had her mother made that mistake with Louis? Avery wished she knew.

Avery looked around the kitchen at the dirty pots, the plastic bins full of plates and bowls. The majority of this job would be the cleaning up, she could already tell. But she wasn’t actually here to be a cook. She’d have to find a way to cross paths with her father if she was going to make good use of this time. From what she could see of the ranch, Louis was a prosperous man. His employees ate well, and they all seemed happy enough to be working here, so she could assume they were paid decently, too.

Avery hadn’t had much growing up. Her mother worked hard, and they lived in a small apartment above the flower shop that was technically a one-bedroom place, but her mother had artfully transformed a walk-in closet to be a second bedroom for Avery. They hadn’t traveled much, except for one trip to Disneyland when Avery was about ten. Her mother had saved for years to make it happen, and when she received a small inheritance from an aunt, they’d packed their bags for the only vacation that Avery and her mother would ever take together.

And all that time, her father was running a ranch with cattle and barns, ranch hands and horses... Had her father known about her mother’s pregnancy but hadn’t wanted to be involved? It was possible. Maybe he was an accomplished liar, though he didn’t seem the type. But if he hadn’t known about Avery’s existence, that meant her mother had simply denied her daughter a relationship with her father and the financial stability that would have come with it.