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Grabbing his can of soda, Luca leans back in his chair and takes a big gulp. “So, you probably don’t want to know that elk is lower in fat than Salmon by about half.”
I pick up my hanging jaw. I don’t have the knowledge to counter his point, but it just seems off. Attempting to hide how much he’s flustering me, I snap back at him, “Where’d you get that fact? Hunter’s Magazine?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Luca,” Emma says in a kind but correcting tone.
He stops talking and glances over. “Sorry, sis.” When Emma raises her brows and nods toward me, he adds, “My apologies, Jack. I can be stubborn when it comes to a good debate. Guess it’s hard to break those college habits, even after nearly fifteen years.”
College? Debate? I can’t make the connection between the ranch hand I see here and someone studying rhetoric in college. And sis? He and Emma have absolutely nothing in common physically, so they can’t be siblings. Can they? It must be an endearment. Confusing, but why am I worried over it?
“Guess I’ll forgive you.” I give him a small smirk and reach for the breadbasket he still holds.
He doesn’t let go.
“This time,” I add.
My boss, Geoffrey, gives me one of his attempts at a smile and looks around Derrick at Luca. “Where did you study?”
Luca makes eye contact, but he doesn’t let go of the breadbasket. It’s almost as if we’re tethered while he answers. “Ivy League, but that’s not important. It was a lifetime ago.” He lifts one brow.
Ivy League? I scowl. Why’s he working on a ranch if he has an Ivy League education? Must not have graduated.
Before I can process much else, he raises his voice, speaking to everyone. “Looks like Jack’s got dibs on the bread everyone.” Then, his eyes settle on me again, and I fight the urge to demure. “Can’t say we bought anything at the store earlier that’d fit your diet requirements. I think we’ve got some granola bars in the cupboard, though.” He lets go, and the basket lurches toward my face. A corn muffin launches into my lap.
I inhale sharply and reach for the bread. With slow deliberation, I close my eyes, steadying myself. A whole week on granola bars and cornbread? Just fantastic. When I open them again, he’s staring me down while the others have gone on with conversations and passing plates.
Quietly, I say, “Thanks,” and purse my lips. “I suppose.”
Luca
Wyatt tosses in bed onceagain and pulls the blanket with him. His bed isn’t big enough for the both of us, and if it weren’t for Jack turning out to be a woman, I’d be sleeping soundly in my queen-sized bed and soft blankets. Instead, I’m lying here, with nothing more than a sheet, and a grown man next to me not sharing the blanket. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be on the hard ground. All I wanted tonight was a good night’s sleep.
I glance at my phone on the nightstand and groan when I see the time. I need to be up in three hours to prepare the horses and gear for day one, and I don’t think I’ve slept yet. I jolt upright in bed when I hear something stirring in the hallway. The last time I heard a noise like this was when we were hosting another retreat, and someone went out in the night to relieve themselves. They left the door wide open when they returned, and a pair of racoons found their way into the kitchen.
I spent hours on end trying to trap the trash pandas and get them back outside, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. The people on the retreat thought the entire episode was hilarious, but the incident still haunts me. Sometimes I wake up at night, still convinced we have a racoon living in our house somewhere. A racoon that’s good at hiding.
There’s a clanking noise that sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. I let out a silent sigh, get up, and swipe my jeans from the chair on the other side of the nightstand. In the ensuite bathroom, I change out of running shorts into my jeans, and on the way out, I grab a pair of shoes lying on the floor in case I need weapons. The hallway is dark, and I follow the noise, until I see the dim light of the kitchen.
Raccoons don’t turn on lights.
I peek around the corner, still ready to meet whatever is behind that door, and I seeher. She’s looking through every cupboard, a heavy sigh coming out of her mouth when she, yet again, doesn’t find whatever she’s looking for.
I brush my hair off my forehead and lean on the doorjamb. “Can I help you, Jack?”
Startled, she turns to me, and places her hand over her chest as if her heart revved into high gear. Her shoulders drop on the exhalation, and she pats her pink-flushed cheeks. I glance at what she’s wearing and shake my head, trying to get myself to quit admiring her tank top and pajama bottoms.
“Why are you here?” Jack says, placing her hands on her hips. “You freaked me out.”
“I freaked you out?” I raise both eyebrows. “I thought we were being invaded by raccoons with all the noise coming from this kitchen.”
Jack takes another deep breath and relaxes. “I’m sorry.” She continues to look around the kitchen. “I’m just going to admit it. I’m starving.”
I stroll into the kitchen then and open the refrigerator door. We don’t have much that’s non-meat or non-dairy, so I glance back at her. “Are you vegan?”
“No, only a pescatarian.”
Fish wasn’t something I planned to whip up in the middle of the night, so I grab the eggs and hold them up to her with a questioning look. When she nods, I grab some shredded cheese, an onion, and a green pepper too.
