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He parks his truck next to them. As he walks away, onto the job site, he looks back with pride at the way his red truck sticks out like a sore thumb against the sea of white.
The girl looks as good as she did the day before. Callahan sucks in a breath through his teeth. She's got a vest on that draws attention to one of the many places a married man shouldn't be looking.
Instead he looks over her shoulder. Even through the narrow gap, at least a dozen guys are walk by as he watches.
"Mr. Callahan. Thank you so much for coming out."
"Yeah," he says. Not sure what to say other than that. She's got her hand out. He takes it reluctantly. It's supposed to be a professional gesture, and he doesn't want to take it any other way. There's no reason to take it any other way.
But his body knows that it's touching a woman's hand, and it reacts accordingly, in spite of his best intentions to the contrary. He gets an unpleasant pleasure out of their contact.
"Do you mind if I show you around?"
"I don't know what good it's gonna do you, but go right ahead. Lead the way."
She strikes off at a brisk pace. Nothing like the pace that he would have used at the ranch, tour or not. There's no reason to hurry, unless someone's about to get hurt. That doesn't seem to be how Miss Lowe sees it.
She takes a hat from a bin and tosses it back to him. Philip catches it. "Put that on. Could be dangerous. You probably have nothing to worry about, but it's better to be safe than sorry."
"Yeah," he says. He puts the hard hat on. It's a snug fit right out the gate, which is a comfort at least. She heads up a couple of steps into an aluminum box that might have been an office. Inside, a guy with two days of growth in his beard sips on a cup of coffee.
"Mr. Callahan, this is my crew chief, Brad Lang. Brad, this is Mr. Philip Callahan, he owns the Callahan ranch."
Brad puts a hand out. He's got a firm grip, and he looks Callahan in the eye. "Mr. Callahan. Good to meet you."
"You always hanging out inside when your boys work, Mr. Lang?"
His face goes a little red. "Was waitin' for you, sir."
Philip looks over at the girl beside him. She's got an impassive expression, looking up at both of them. "Well, don't wait for me. I can walk. Already a long way off my ranch, you might as well make me walk ten more feet to get your job done."
"Yes, sir."
Now she's got an expression on her face. It's not one that says 'thanks for setting that straight.'
He looks over at Miss Lowe like he's waiting for permission, or something. If he needs permission, then why the hell did she hire him?
"You heard the man, didn't you? Go on."
"You got it."
He heads off. Morgan waits until the door slams behind him to turn to Callahan.
"You think you're more qualified to tell my guys what to do than I am? That it?"
He hadn't meant to step on any toes, but now that he's in the situation, it's fairly obvious that he's managed it anyways.
"I didn't mean any disrespect, Miss Lowe."
"No, of course you didn't." Her face is hard and angry. It makes her look cute. "You just thought maybe I couldn't handle him, that it?"
There's a point where an edge becomes frustrating, and she's approaching it fast. But at the same time, it's hard to fault her. Callahan could imagine the explosion he'd have if someone were marching around giving orders to his boys. So he swallows his frustration.
"You're right. I shouldn't have stepped on your toes like that."
She shuts her eyes and takes a breath. "Yeah. Thanks. You're right. You shouldn't have. I'm sure you didn't mean anything by it."
"Not a thing, ma'am."
