Did Malachi think I was remarkable?
Amanda squeezed the sides of her phone, and her screen went black. “Just say the word, Mrs. Thomas, and I’ll set up a few social media accounts for you. Miriam’s already said that she can manage them, and I can even show her how to run a few ads on Facebook and Instagram that might help boost occupancy numbers.”
Gran pursed her lips then nodded. “I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of that before.” She scooped out the last cinnamon bun in the row and handed it to Amanda. “You’ve earned yourself another.”
Amanda’s greedy little fingers snatched the sweet. She pulled out her phone again and snapped a picture. “If your cooking doesn’t bring in more guests, then I don’t know what will.” She sank her teeth into the soft roll.
I pushed on her shoulder. “Thanks, Gran, for the treats, but we should probably head out and meet up with our friends.”
Gran waved. “Have a good day, girls.”
Amanda made moaning sounds that would bring a blush to the most seasoned sailor’s cheeks as she finished off the sweet roll.
I gave her a side eye. “Do you have to do that?”
“I can’t help it,” she said around the last bite.
With her uncomfortable noises silenced, a rhythmic, rasping noise drifted to us.
“What’s that?” she asked.
I shrugged. I may have surprised myself with how comfortable I’d become on the ranch, but that didn’t mean I’d transformed into an expert overnight. We rounded the outside corner of the barn and pulled up to a stop.
Malachi, his legs covered in dark-brown leather chaps that ended at his shins, bent at the waist beside a horse. The chestnut-colored equine had one of its front legs extended, its hoof resting on a knee-high metal cylinder. Malachi held the largest emery board known to man between his hands, and he ran the ridged edges of the flat side along the horse’s hoof.
“It looks like he’s giving his horse a pedicure.” But that couldn’t be right, could it?
“I’m sorry, what?” Amanda sounded unfocused. “I’m too distracted by that man’s perfect backside.”
My eyes started to dip, but I stopped their downward projection by turning to watch the back of my hand slap at Amanda’s upper arm.
She grinned unapologetically then leaned in and whispered, “I know you like him.” The way she waggled her eyebrows, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d started singingJocelyn and Malachi sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.
“What are we looking at?” A third voice caused me to whirl around, my heart pounding.
Molly frowned. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You know, it’s a good thing cowboys wear wranglers.” Amanda tapped her chin, still staring in Malachi’s direction.
“What?” My brain tried to catch up to her random observation.
“I was just thinking, if they wore pants that didn’t fit so well around the hips—you know, like the ones some guys wear where we can see four inches of their boxer shorts?—then when they bent over like that, giving some sort of horsey mani-pedi, they’d end up with the equivalent of a plumber’s crack farmer’s tan.”
Now there was a mental image you couldn’t unsee.
I met Molly’s gaze, her eyes brimming with laughter.
“Also, our girl here is crushing on a cowboy.”
My eyes swung back to Amanda. How had she drawn that conclusion? I hadn’t even figured out how far my feelings for Malachi went.
“He’s shy though, so she’s obviously going to have to make the first move.”
“Oh, I know.” Molly raised her hand like she had the answer and wanted to be called on in class. “She should walk up to him and give him a big, fat kiss. That’ll erase all the doubt from his mind.”
I threw my arms out at my side.
She half-shrugged. “Worked for me with Ben. Sort of. Eventually.”
