Her Cowboy Boss. Patricia Johns
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apron and shook Olivia’s proffered hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m the new cook.”
“I heard.” Olivia put her fingers into her back pockets and looked around. “I just came by to pick up a couple of pack lunches for Dad and me.”
“Going out together?” Avery asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, we’re going riding.” Olivia headed to the large refrigerator and pulled it open. “Aren’t there any left?”
“I don’t think so. Hank made an even thirty-five this morning,” Avery said. “Do you want me to make you a couple of lunches?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Olivia said. “I can do it. I won’t keep you from whatever you were doing.”
The dishes—that was what Avery had been doing. She had the big sink filled with hot, soapy water, and she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.
“That’s nice that your dad goes riding with you,” Avery said as she grabbed a scrub brush and got to work.
“Yeah, we’ve been riding together since I was little.” Olivia pulled sandwich fixings from the fridge. “He’s actually heading out to check on some leaking pipes that are being fixed, and I’m tagging along.”
“How old are you?” Avery asked.
“Sixteen. Why?”
“You look older than that,” Avery said quickly. “You could pass for nineteen easily.” What teenager didn’t want to look older than her years? That might cover up any weird-sounding curiosity on Avery’s part.
“How about twenty-one?” Olivia asked with a grin.
“Not quite.” Avery chuckled. She wasn’t about to encourage anything untoward.
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