“Is there a difference?”
Hayes laughs. “You’re about to find out.” Heclocks my shoes and shakes his head. “But you won’t be picking. You're on ground crew and bin babysitter. No ladders in those shoes.”
I glance at my trainers—Adidas better suited for casual walks than any real exercise—but I don’t like being told what I can’t do.
“I’ve walked red carpets in five-inch heels and dresses tight enough I had to be cut out of them at the end of the night. I can handle a little ladder.” I take a sip of my second cup of coffee, set the mug down and look pointedly at his uneaten brekkie. “Ready when you are.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Long as I get to cut you out of your next dress.”
“In your dreams, Cowboy,” I shoot back.
“Behave,” Jo warns.
I assume she means Hayes.
“Always,” he answers.
I don’t need to see Jo roll her eyes to know he’s lying.
“Frankie’s playing with me today.” Junie slips off her barstool and puts her hands on her hips.
Hayes tsks and shakes his head. “I hear you’re skipping school, Bug.”
Junie sets her mouth tighter but doesn’t deny her crime.
“You know what happens to little girls who skip school?” Hayes tears off a chunk of bacon with his teeth.
Junie shakes her head, all defiance and no fear.
He narrows his eyes and slides out of his seat. “They get tickled.”
Hayes wiggles his fingers and clomps monster-like toward her.
Junie freezes and squeals, not even trying to run away. Obviously, they’ve done this before. When he reaches her, he growls then tickles her until she begs him to stop. By then we’re all laughing, except for Jo. But she’sfighting not to.
“All right,” he says. “You get dressed. No playing when you skip school. We need your help with the avocados.”
“I can help?” Junie bounces on her toes.
“Oh Hayes,” Jo says, swatting the counter with her dishtowel, “last thing I want is to be out in that sun all day.”
But Junie’s already running to her room. There’s no stopping her now.
“I’ll keep her safe, Ma. Don’t worry,” Hayes says.
“Says the man who makes a living trying to get killed by bulls,” Jo says with real annoyance. “You wouldn’t recognizesafeif it hit you upside the head. Junie will be climbing ladders and trying to drive the tractor while you’re busy flirting with Frankie.”
In one long stride, Hayes has Jo in a playful hug, rocking her back and forth. “You worry too much, Ma. Besides, Frankie will help.”
“I’m not making Frankie work in the trees and watch a three-year-old.” Jo’s words are muffled against Hayes’s chest before she pushes him away and walks out of the kitchen calling, “Long pants and sleeves, Juniper!”
“You ready for this, Hollywood?” Hayes asks me as he puts on his hat.
“You have one of those for me?”
“You gotta earn one of these, girl.” He grins, then walks to a row of hats hung on hooks by the door. He grabs a baseball cap—Cal’s camo hat—and hands it to me. “This will have to do until you prove yourself.”
I scoop back my hair and adjust the hat on my head, reacquainting myself with the safety I felt wearing it before, then follow Hayes outside.
