Her Cowboy Boss. Patricia Johns
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gap. This was the first day without a regular cook on premises, and the stock of muffins and sandwiches had been worked through pretty fast. He pushed open the door, leading the way past the tables and toward the kitchen in the back.
When they emerged into the quiet, cool room, the look on Avery’s face was pure panic.
“Exactly how much experience do you have?” Hank asked skeptically.
She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Zero.”
What? He stared at her, aghast. She had absolutely no experience, and she’d applied for this job? What had she been thinking? And why had Louis hired her so quickly? He supposed they didn’t have many options—they needed someone, and one of the ranch hands would be just as bad as an inexperienced stranger. At least the ranch hand would be able to do his job out in the field if they had this woman in the kitchen.
“Let me get this straight...” he said slowly.
“Should I leave?” she interrupted, turning to look him in the face for the first time. Her green eyes glittered, and she crossed her arms across her chest—protective or defiant, he wasn’t sure which.
“Can you at least cook?” he asked. That would be something. Cooking in large batches could be learned...couldn’t it? If she could at least make some batches of oatmeal, muffins, fry up some burgers...
Avery visibly winced.
“Are you saying you can’t cook at all?” he demanded.
“I’m capable of cooking,” she retorted. “I’m twenty-four and I’ve fed myself for some time now.” She sighed. “I’ve just never been...good at it.”
He closed his eyes and suppressed a moan.
“I’ll go.” She moved toward the door. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
It wasn’t how pretty she was, or those glittering green eyes. It certainly wasn’t the smattering of freckles that drew his gaze as she turned away...it was the knowledge that without her here, a valuable ranch hand would be taken away from his work and set to manning the kitchen until they could find someone else, and after three weeks of advertising, she was the only one to show up.
“Wait,” he said gruffly. “You’re already hired. Let’s give you a try.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because you don’t need to do this. If someone else is a better fit—”
“There isn’t anyone else,” he said. “If you’re willing to learn, I guess I’ll teach you what I know, and we’ll get these guys fed.”
She pulled out her cell phone. “YouTube tutorials might help.”
So that was where they were at. This was going to be a long day, he could tell, but a suspicion nagged at the back of his mind. He might need to keep her on for now, but he also meant to keep an eye on her. After Hank’s divorce, the Harmon family had been really good to him, and he felt like he owed Louis more than just to follow his job requirements. And Avery gave off the vibe, back in the house, of a woman with an ulterior motive.
Now he discovered that she’d applied for a position she had zero experience for, and she was offering to walk away far too quickly for someone who needed the job despite her inexperience. His hackles were up. He didn’t know the real reason Avery had shown up, but he’d figure it out. He didn’t like secrets; he was the kind of man who wanted things transparent, out in the open. Secrets always hurt someone, he’d found. Hank knew firsthand what kind man Louis Harmon was. As ranch manager, it was his job to know what was going on, and he took that job very seriously.
“Alright,” Hank said. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying, then I should probably start showing you what I can in the kitchen. We need to whip up dinner for the hands. That is, if you’re ready to start early—”
“Sure,” she said. “I’ll be happy to.”
That was a relief, because right now, he didn’t have much choice.
Hank led the way to Avery’s room, located at the far end of the bunkhouse. The building was empty, their footsteps echoing, and Avery could only assume that was because the other employees were working at this hour. The hallways smelled male—like socks and stale cigarettes.
Avery stood back as Hank unlocked a door at the end of the hallway and swung it open. He held out the key, and when she took it, her fingers brushed over his calloused fingertips. There wasn’t much room in the doorway, and as she moved past him, she could feel his body heat.
“This is where you’ll sleep,” he said. “You have your own bathroom through there.”
Avery glanced around. There was a bed topped with a patchwork quilt, an outdated dresser, a wobbly wardrobe and a small but private bathroom with a tub large enough to actually take a bath. Thanks to a cracked-open window, her room smelled fresh and clean. When she peeked outside, she had a magnificent view of pasture and the main barn. That was something. And if she counted the blessing that she wouldn’t have to share facilities like the ranch hands did, she couldn’t complain. Even settling in wouldn’t be difficult. Her suitcase was in the trunk of her car, so that would be easy enough. But as she stood in the center of the room, a giggle bubbled up inside her.
If her mother were still living, she’d find this hilarious, too. Well, maybe not the fact that Avery was in Hope, looking for details about her mother’s past... Winona wouldn’t have liked that at all. But the outrageousness of being hired as a ranch cook—that would have tickled her funny bone. Winona used to tell her, Men expect a pretty girl to be able to cook. And you’re pretty, sweetheart. So you’d better learn how to cook, or learn how to let ’em down easy. Avery hadn’t learned.
Winona Southerly was a strong woman with her own idea of how things should be. She raised Avery to go to church every week, rain or shine. Winona’s Wilderness, the flower shop her mother opened when Avery was in the second grade, had been closed Sunday mornings, opening at 2:00 p.m. No exceptions. She’d been strict that way. When Avery complained that she didn’t want to go to Sunday school, her mother would retort, So the store is closed for nothing then? I’m losing business as we speak. We’re going to church. You could use a few positive influences, my girl. And heaven help them if they were late. But she’d had a sense of humor, too. Every time she lost something—a pair of scissors, an umbrella—she declared it had been raptured and the Lord needed it more than I did, I suppose. Church people never knew exactly how seriously to take her on that—whether she needed a theological tune-up, or if they should just laugh along. She liked pushing the envelope, keeping people guessing. Those were the memories that made Avery’s heart ache with loneliness. Life wasn’t going to be the same without Mom.
“Will it do?” Hank asked behind her.
Avery turned and nodded. “It’ll be just fine.”
He nodded, then his direct blue gaze met hers and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. This ranch manager was just so...male. She kept noticing things like the stubble on his jawline, or the latent strength in those large hands of his. She couldn’t do anything about it, though. She was here for a reason, and this cowboy didn’t factor into that.
“So what is Mr. Harmon like?” she asked.
Hank shrugged. “A decent guy. He doesn’t cut corners. He pays on time.”
That wasn’t exactly what she was looking for, but then, she was only supposed to be an employee.
“Does he have a family?” she asked. “Here at the ranch, I mean.”
“He’s a widower, but he has two kids, Olivia and Owen. They’re twins. You’ll see them around.”
He had kids... That meant she had siblings. The thought was surprising and pleasing. She’d wanted a brother