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“I assure you, it was not a magic wand. And if it was, I’m happy to wave it at you after lunch,” I grumbled.
Once inside, Norma reminded everyone to wash up in the utility sink in the mudroom off the kitchen entrance, and since all the other men were bigger and beefier than I was, I stood to the side and let them crowd around the sink first. I took the opportunity to kick my boots off into the large boot trays someone had shown me last night. They were, of course, ruined. Alexander McQueen had never meant for those beauties to muck stalls, but it wasn’t like I had enough money for a pair of junk boots for work. That was the entire reason I was here in the first place.
While I waited my turn at the sink, I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Boone. Since he was the man in charge, I felt like it was in my best interest to win him over to my good side so I could maybe, just possibly, get a job assignment a little farther away from the excrement.
I spotted him talking to Norma by the kitchen sink. His hip leaned casually against the counter, and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing sun-browned forearms covered in golden hair and corded with muscle. His plaid shirt was neatly tucked into blue jeans behind a big metal buckle of some kind. I squinted to see what it was.
“Best thing you’ll eat on this ranch,” Harrison murmured to me before reaching for a paper towel.
“What?” I asked, whipping my head around.
“Those brisket sandwiches you’re drooling over.” He jerked his chin toward the kitchen table. “Best thing Norma makes. Just you wait.”
I looked back, and sure enough, there was a platter between me and Boone stacked high with thick buns overflowing with sliced beef.
That was definitely not what I’d had in mind to eat. But since I was starving, I didn’t have much choice in the matter. “Mm, meat,” I said faintly.
I hadn’t eaten heavy red meat like that since I’d gone through my Paleo phase three years ago. There was no telling what it was going to do to my digestive system. After washing my hands and making my way to the table, I pulled Norma aside and asked her politely if there were any vegetarian options.
“Oh, sure, sweetie,” she said kindly. “The carrots are…” She frowned, tapping a finger against her chin. “Well, now, hold on. No, there’s beef stock in those. Hmm. The green beans might… no. I used bacon fat in those. You could always try…” She blinked in confusion for a moment before dropping the facade and grinning widely at me. “Love it or leave it, hotshot. This here’s a cattle ranch.”
I stared at her as she cackled with laughter and reached for a pitcher of lemonade to refill the glasses that had already been emptied around the table by the thirsty cowboys.
A snicker from the head of the table caught my attention. Boone. He was eyeing me intently, his expression inscrutable. I felt a slight flush creep up my neck as his gaze roved over me, taking me in from head to toe.
I realized then that all of them were staring at me. I plastered a smile on my face. “No problem,” I said agreeably, taking the only seat left. “I love cattle. Meat. Cattle meat. Beef, I mean. Love it. Can’t get enough. Sometimes for fun, I like to gnaw on old steak rinds. You don’t happen to have any—”
Boone shoved a platter of glazed carrots in my chest. “Quit yapping and eat before you miss out on lunch too.”
He was right. There was no way I could get through another few hours of physical work without eating a full meal. And I needed to get through the work. I’d be damned if I was going to fail on the very first day. Oscar’s smug face floated in my mind, taunting me.
I was going to work until the day was over… or die trying.
5
BOONE
I’d expected Richard to balk at physical labor, but he was clearly trying his hardest.
Too bad his hardest was for shit.
Yes, the man was fit, but he was NYC-exercise-class fit, not the kind of fit that can spend eighteen-hour days hauling feed bags. I appreciated the effort he was making, but I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Oscar I needed someone who could get the work done. And if Richie Rich kept going the way he was, he’d be too wrung out to work by morning.
Oscar might appreciate teaching this kid a lesson in hard work, but it would leave me shorthanded, and I didn’t need that kind of hassle right now.
