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“Eat, sweetheart,” she said to Gavin. “The bus will arrive soon.”
She spun back to the stove to drip more batter onto the pan. Cooking breakfast required perfect timing. Most mornings she worked for a healthier offering, including breakfast casseroles and fruit compotes. One day of pancakes and bacon wouldn’t hurt.
Dax had just poured a tooth-decaying amount of warm syrup onto a stack of pancakes when his cell phone chirped.
He made a disparaging face before barking into the mouthpiece. “What?”
After listening for a minute, he said, “Will anyone die if I eat breakfast first?”
Then he tossed the telephone onto the table and went back to his pancakes.
The short comment was exactly the kind she’d come to expect of her employer. He didn’t waste words, which made him all the more difficult to understand.
Jenna refilled his coffee cup. As she turned away, he caught her wrist in his long fingers. “Sit down. Your pancakes are getting cold.”
The touch of Dax’s hard fingers against her skin brought a strange hum to her nerve endings.
She’d learned not to argue about taking meals with the family. He was insistent. She had to admit she preferred meals with the reticent rancher and his shyly sweet son to being alone. Very slowly, she was getting to know the nice man behind the glower. Getting close was another, more troubling matter.
“May I please get a glass of milk first?” she asked, glancing down at the circle of fingers where he held her captive.
He hissed through his teeth, dropped her hand and attacked his pancakes with an almost angry force.
Jenna turned away in confusion. What was that all about? Had he felt the staggered trip of her pulse against those thick, calloused fingers? Had he recognized the buzz of electricity racing through her blood and been repelled?
She had no right feeling attracted to her employer. She’d lose her job. He’d toss her out. Worse, she was no judge of men. Hadn’t she learned a thing after the fiasco with Derek?
Drawing upon a lifetime of pretending everything was all right when it wasn’t, she poured a glass of milk and sat down, intent on making normal conversation. Executing appropriate small talk was a fine art, her mother would say, and though she was less skilled than her mother, she could manage.
“Problems on the ranch?” she asked, indicating the discarded cell phone.
Dax glowered at the device, though Jenna wondered if the scowl was meant for her. “Rowdy can handle the situation until I get there. That’s what I pay him for.”
Rowdy. The thought of Dax’s top ranch hand soured the sweet taste of pancakes. For more than a week she’d managed to avoid another encounter with the man, a run of good luck she hoped would continue.
“What’s wrong? A sick animal?” Beyond the subtleties of preparing a lovely prime rib, Jenna knew nothing about cattle. Dax had told her a little about the ranch, enough that she was interested. For a woman who’d been sheltered from so much, she wanted to know everything about everything.
“We have an A-I crew here today. They’re early.” He forked a bite of syrupy pancake and stirred it around his plate.
“May I inquire as to what an A-I crew might be?”
His mouth twitched. “You may. Artificial insemination.”
Jenna was certain she turned pink. “I never realized such a thing occurred in cattle.”
“Just one select group of experimental cows.”
“Experimental cows. How fascinating.” Not that she had any idea what he was talking about, but she liked the rumble of that scratchy-rough voice. And she felt rather pleased to have drawn him out. Most mornings, he mumbled hello and goodbye and disappeared out the door. Evenings were somewhat better.
Apparently, she’d been asking the wrong questions because once he started talking about his experimental cows, he didn’t stop. Some of the conversation about selective breeding of a certain pasture of purebred cattle went completely over her head, but she listened hard. Dax Coleman was passionate about two things: his son and this ranch.
During a pause, Jenna noticed the clock. “Gavin, you need to brush your teeth. The bus will be here in five minutes.” When Gavin scooted away from the table, she turned back to Dax. “Now tell me more about Number Thirty-two and what made her special enough to win ‘Supreme Overall Breed’ at the San Antonio show?”
Dax pointed his fork at her. “Do you really want to hear this or are you just being your perky self?”
Perky? Was that a compliment?
“I’m learning the nuances of ranch life,” she said. “Please continue.”
Dax shook his head. “The nuances of ranch life, huh? Okay, you asked for it.” He launched into a technical explanation that had her mentally galloping to keep up. Dax Coleman might be a rough cattle rancher but he was a very bright man.
