An acrid stench filled my nose. “Excuse me?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, disheveling the long lengths on top and transforming his look from office modish to surf-and-sand vogue, reminding me once again how out of place he was in his position.
“I know what he said was out of line.”
I snorted.
“But compounding the situation by filing a formal complaint—”
My head pounded against my skull, and I held up a hand. Jayden really needed to stop talking before he dug this hole any deeper. “I’m not going to HR.”
His Pacific-blue eyes blinked. “You’re not?”
“No.” I stood. “I take it we’re done here?”
He nodded, dumbfounded.
I marched out of the dining room, but instead of turning right toward the front door, I turned left toward the kitchen. Maybe Gran would have something sweet to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.
Dishes clanked together as I stepped over the threshold. Amanda stood in the middle of the tile floor, a plate held below her chin with a large cinnamon bun in the center, white cream cheese frosting running in rivulets down its speckled side. The blast of sugar and spicy cinnamon hit me like a semi, and my mouth watered in anticipation.
Gran rotated from her spot in front of the sink and smiled at me. “Hungry?”
“Umm…” My gaze darted to the corners and out the window. “Nicole’s not around?” I asked Amanda.
Amanda sucked frosting off her finger. “She thought she saw an endangered owl, so she and Sierra are romping around in the woods by the wagon.”
Which would keep her busy for a while. I peeked at the glass dish filled with spinning wheels of sweet dough. Gran chuckled, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and served me a piece. I bit into the confection and my eyes rolled, a moan of pleasure vibrating at the back of my throat. Even if Nicole walked in now, listening to her lecture me about cheating on my sugar cleanse would be worth it. Not that I hadn’t been cheating this whole time, but what Nicole didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her…or me.
“I was just about to show Mrs. Thomas some of the pictures I posted of the ranch on my Instagram.” Amanda set her plate on the counter and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She tapped on the screen a few times then held her phone out and beckoned us to scooch closer to see.
A picture of the farmhouse with a brilliant sunrise streaking across the sky in the background filled the screen. The place looked idyllic and magical and everything it truly was. Amanda hadn’t even written a caption; just added a few hashtags.
#ranchlife #westernlifestyle #longlivecowboys #duderanch #yournextvacation #youcouldbehere.
Already there were a thousand-plus likes.
She scrolled down to the next picture, a close-up of Snoopy, his furry face and round nose highlighted in an adorable way. Over two hundred comments ranging from heart and smiley emojis to gushing over the calf’s cuteness factor.
More pictures of the ranch, the horses, and the Thomas siblings. Amanda swiped and Malachi’s face filled the screen.
My breath caught, and that little kick of surprise I’d felt in my gut that first time I turned and saw him shoved against the back of my ribs again. I’d found him attractive even then, with his charming manners and natural cowboy swagger.
His dark eyes stared steadily back at me through the screen, and I took the opportunity to study their depths. Often, he’d avert his gaze instead of maintaining eye contact. Which would explain why I hadn’t noticed the rim of color two shades lighter surrounding his pupil, or the way his left eye appeared rounder than his right. His ever-present black cowboy hat filled the top of the frame, the dip in the brim low across his brow. His square jaw and the firm lines around his mouth gave him a serious look—one I wanted to tease away to hear an encore of his rich laughter.
The picture was a good one, evidenced by the number of likes and comments. A strange twinge of something foreign skittered down my breastbone.
Malachi probably wouldn’t like his picture plastered on the internet. He was a private man, even though he worked somewhat in the hospitality business (which made the question ofwhybuzz louder in the back of my brain). Quiet, unassuming, loyal, and patient. Some might call him brooding or aloof, but I found his habit of keeping his head down while shouldering a mountain of work to be an intoxicatingly appealing trait.
“He looks so imposing in this picture.” Gran fingered the side of the phone in Amanda’s hand.
That word echoed in my heart. Malachi had used the same description for me. I leaned forward to look around Amanda and see Gran. “What do you mean?”
Gran glanced up from the screen. “I’ve always thought that boy rather remarkable. He has a dignified quality to his character that is arresting. Most of the time he’s ducking his head, so it’s harder to see for those who don’t know him like I do, but I think Miss Amanda here has captured his essence quite nicely in this photo. Don’t you agree?” She gave me a grandmotherly look that brooked no argument.
Not that I wouldn’t have agreed with her without the pointed expression.
My gaze drifted back to the picture.
