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“Ah. Bruce had some whiskey. ’S keeping the pain at bay for the most part.” He lifts one shoulder, and I worry for a second he might toss himself off the bench.
I cross my arms over my chest. Figures that Bruce, of all the team members, would have brought something along. “Give me that.” I dump it over the side of the wagon. “This’ll be a real problem if they have to give you anything for the pain.”
Nathan reaches for it, missing by almost a foot.
I set him back upright, take a long deep breath, and puff my cheeks as I exhale. Taking a seat on the facing bench, I ask, “Why are you in the wagon?”
“Ah, well, the transport to town can’t make it out here.”
“Hey, Jack!” Emma says from behind me, and I turn. She gives me a sweet smile. “The horses are rested well enough, so I’m carrying him back to the ranch this evening. A driver will meet us there. There’s a shorter route than we took yesterday, so I’ll be there, have a good night’s sleep, and return before mid-morning.”
“What she said.” Nathan grabs the now empty canteen and pouts.
“Can I get a bottle of water over here? In fact, make it two.”
Emma hands me two bottles and shoots me a “he’s-a-handful” smile. I wash out his water bottle, fill it up, and hand it back to him. “No more alcohol. If they have to take you into surgery, you’ll have to sober up first. And that might mean rebreaking your bones so they can set them right.” I stand and shuffle my way to the end of the wagon.
Wyatt returns with my boss at his side and offers a hand to help me jump down.
Geoffrey looks at me and says, “Jack, we’re going to need someone to fill in for Emma tonight and cook dinner.”
I open my mouth to object, but he’s already turned away. I’m not a cook. In fact, I can burn a good pot of boiling water any day of the week, but that’s not what keeps my mouth hanging open. It’s delayed, but the gender bias of his words slaps me across the face again. My mouth gapes for several seconds, and then something brushes against my leg. I look down at the bushy tail on the ground and the black and white face with one blue eye staring up at me.
“What makes you think Jack is the best one to cook?” It’s Luca’s voice, and it’s got a touch of anger inside that makes my mouth go dry.
I glance over to where he’s standing with one hand on the wagon and another on his hip. His expression doesn’t look any happier than mine, and at least he’s saying something about it. I think it might be the first time I’ve heard a guy speak up in defense of a random sexist remark.
Geoffrey looks at him like it’s the most insane question.
Luca shakes his head and scoffs at my boss. “Typical,” he barks. “Part of why I left.” He reaches for my elbow and turns me away. “C’mon Jack. I’ll make dinner, but maybe you can assist.”
Luca
My goal was to ignoreJack. To take a moment to myself and not think about the way her lips felt on mine. I planned to think of something else. Anything—no,everythingelse. But not about Jack’s lips. Or eyes. Or. . . well, any part of her. But then Geoffrey had to go and say something stupid, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
I pull the food out of the cooler and lay out the tinfoil.
“Vegan, just for you,” I say, without looking at Jack. Even though I don’t glance up, her presence is everywhere. Her scent. The way she breathes, the sound of the dirt as she kicks her boot up.
“I’m not vegan, only pescatarian.” Jack sits on the log stoop and grabs a can opener for the beans. She doesn’t say anything more, and I don’t respond either. The silence lingers and thickens the air between us.
When the can is fully open, she holds it between her finger, and then sighs. “Thanks, Luca. For jumping in back there.”
“Can’t really imagine what it’s like, being a woman and working for a guy like Geoffrey, I’ll be honest,” I say, spreading the tortilla chips onto the tinfoil, and then taking a spoonful of beans from the can Jack still holds. A bit of guilt niggles under my skin because I’ve seen it before. I just never did anything about it. Guess there’s a first for everything.
“Can’t say I reallylikeworking for a guy like Geoffrey,” Jack says, this time turning her body toward me. “But believe it or not, there are bosses ten times worse than him. With Geoffrey, I know exactly what I’m getting, and I can navigate it. With others, it was like playing a game of chess every day.”
Jack reaches into the cooler, grabs a bag of shredded cheese, and starts sprinkling it over the food. Chicken and black bean nachos over the fire, sans the chicken, is one of my favorite campfire meals. And one of the easiest. We sit side by side, effortlessly putting the food together, and then close up the tinfoil to heat over the fire.
Jack reaches into her boot and pulls out a flask.
“Shh,” she says. “I may have stolen Bruce’s whiskey.” Our eyes meet as she holds the flask to her lips and grins.
I never drink on the job, but one swig won’t hurt, and I am dying to place my lips where Jack’s have just been. I take a drink, and the liquid instantly warms my belly.
“Believe it or not,” I say, “I’ve worked for guys like Geoffrey. Worse, even. I don’t think I ever had a full appreciation for what the ladies in the office must have been feeling.” I cough deliberately to keep myself from saying the next words on the tip of my tongue—and you’re the first woman I’ve been compelled to stand up for.Instead, I find something less gushy to say. “I wish I could go back and be a better colleague.”
Jack’s eyes dart up at me. She seems surprised. It’s clear we’ve both misunderstood each other. Jack is definitely not shallow. And I can’t be sure what she thought of me, but it wasn’t good.
