Читать книгу Daddy Lessons - Stella Bagwell - Страница 10

McCann Drilling was located on the west edge of Oklahoma City and several miles from Savanna’s apartment.

The next morning Savanna made doubly sure she had plenty of time to drive to work and, if necessary, change a flat. In fact, she got to McCann’s so early she discovered the door to the office building still locked and Joe nowhere in sight.

Deciding she didn’t want to sit in her Volkswagen until he arrived, she climbed out of the car and walked over to a high chain-link fence. It started at one end of the office building and stretched far into the distance. Behind the fence, more than a hundred yards away, several men were already at work loading a mammoth piece of iron derrick onto a long flatbed trailer.

The work yard appeared to cover at least five acres of land. Savanna knew practically nothing about the petroleum industry, yet in spite of her ignorance, one thing stood out loud and clear. McCann Drilling wasn’t busy.

A long line of blue-and-white transport trucks were sitting idle, mountains of drilling pipe lay stacked on its sides, while pieces of derrick were piled end upon end of each other, lying in useless wait. The rows of huge motors, which she guessed were used as power to turn the drilling pipe as it worked its way into the ground, were all quiet. How long had it been this way? she wondered.

“I see you made it safely to work on time this morning, Ms. Starr.”

At the sound of Joe’s voice, she turned away from the link fence to see him walking down the sidewalk toward her. As her eyes drank in the sight of him, her heart began to thud like a bass drum.

He was dressed all in blue denim this morning. The jeans were obviously worn and faded to a lighter shade than the shirt and clung to his long, muscled legs like an old familiar glove. Like yesterday, the sleeves on his shirt were rolled back against his forearms. A thin gold watch circled his left wrist, but other than that he wore no jewelry.

Savanna had never worked for a man who dressed as if he were part cowboy. But then, she’d never really lived in the Midwest before, either. Maybe the men here were different. Or maybe Joe McCann had his own ideas about business clothes. Whatever the reason, she found it very hard not to think of him as a man, when every inch of him looked tough and masculine. Right down to the laced boots on his feet.

Once he finally reached her, she smiled and said, “Fortunately, I didn’t have a breakdown this morning.”

“That’s good. I didn’t want to have to go after you in one of the gin trucks.”

Was he actually teasing her? Savanna quickly studied his face, then felt strangely disappointed when she found nothing there. Not even the merest hint of a smile.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to plead my ignorance. I don’t know what a gin truck is.”

Joe pointed to a truck the workmen were using to hoist up a piece of derrick. “The one that looks like a big wrecker.”

She nodded that she understood, then glanced back over to him. “I’ve been standing here trying to figure out what most of this stuff is,” she said, waving her hand out toward the work yard. “You have so much of everything. McCann Drilling must be a big operation.”

The corners of his mouth twisted wryly. “It’s not Exxon or Texaco by any means.”

“Lucky for you.”

Frowning, he looked at her. “What do you mean, lucky for me?”

She laughed at his nonplussed expression and Joe was struck by the freshness of her face, the vibrancy of her voice. She was wearing a sundress printed with large black-eyed Susans. It had a full skirt and two little straps over each shoulder. It wasn’t a dress he considered fitting for a secretary, but on Savanna he had to admit that somehow it managed to look sexy and charming at the same time.

“I meant it would be terrible to be saddled with something that big,” she told him.

He grunted as though her remark was addlebrained. “Every oilman dreams of making it big someday.”

Since Savanna had moved to this city, the wind had never ceased to blow. Now she watched it tug strands of Joe’s tawny blond hair across his forehead. “Are you an oilman, Mr. McCann?”

Obviously from the droll look on his face, he thought Savanna’s question a waste of time. “That is what I do, Ms. Starr. I search for oil or gas.”

“But is that what you really strive for, to make it big in the business? Do you want to be able to look up some day and say I’m the new king of the American road?”

From the moment Joe had met this woman yesterday morning she’d put him to thinking about things he’d never stopped to examine that closely before. First his daughter and now his work. What was it about her, anyway? Was she trying to practice psychology on the side and using him for a new patient?

“As far as I’m concerned I don’t think Texaco has anything to worry about. Hell, just look out there, Ms. Starr. You see all those stacked out-rigs? That’s not a work yard anymore, it’s a damn graveyard.”

She followed the line of his vision. “Well, I do know that the price of raw crude is down now. I guess your work is constantly affected by supply and demand.”

He grimaced as he continued to watch the skeleton crew of men at work. “You’re right, Ms. Starr. And this past year demand has been at rock bottom.”

So business had been bad for a whole year, Savanna concluded. Was that the reason he’d forgotten how to smile? The question made her look at him and wonder what kind of man he’d been before business had gone downhill. Was it possible that he’d actually been a happy, carefree man back then, or had something other than his business stepped in to change him? A woman? His daughter?

Savanna, stop wondering about your boss, she silently scolded herself. It shouldn’t make any difference to her if the man used to be a stand-up comedian. He was simply her boss and a few weeks from now, when her job for him had come to an end, he’d merely be a man she used to work for.

But it did matter, a part of her argued. She could see dark clouds of weariness in his eyes and the sight of it saddened her. She knew what it was like to wake up each morning and feel as if a dreadful weight was hanging around her neck. She wanted to help him. She wanted to see him laugh. She wanted him to be able to face whatever problems he had to face with a light heart and a hopeful smile.

“Things will pick up,” she said with bright encouragement.

“I’ve been telling myself that for a long time now.”