Читать книгу Her Cowboy Boss - Patricia Johns - Страница 12

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.

She hadn’t decided what she felt about all this yet. Her mother never did anything without good reason, and that included the little things like buying candy along with the groceries or getting a new pair of shoes. Everything had to be rationalized. She could still remember her mother’s voice. “You haven’t outgrown your last pair of runners, but you will soon. So I’ll get you this new pair, but they have to be a size bigger so that they’ll last. Or we could wait... But the sale is on now, and I don’t want to miss out on that...”

If there had been a father who could have sent money for school clothes, or even provided them a vacation once every couple of years...that would have made a big difference. So why would her mother have kept Avery away from her dad?

She heard movement behind her and turned to see a teenage girl standing in the doorway. There were still a few men exiting the building, and she could hear their voices suddenly drop off as the outside door banged shut. The teenager was slim and tanned with dark hair and gray eyes that were disconcertingly light compared to her dark complexion.

“Hi,” Avery said.

“I’m Olivia Harmon,” the girl said, crossing the kitchen and holding out her hand. Avery’s heart sped up at the young woman’s name. Her sister. They looked nothing alike, but genetics could be like that. She wiped her palms on her 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.