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I rolled my eyes. Despite being run off my feet, I’d managed to do a little googling. “His father owns one of the largest commercial real estate holding companies in the world. He’s probably never had to work a day in his life, especially not physical labor. I’m sure he’s treating this as entertainment more than anything.”
It sounded like Oscar’s thoughts were pouring out of my mouth. I didn’t know why I was being so uncharitable toward Richard. As if by not acknowledging how hard he was working, I could keep a distance between us. It was much easier to think of him as a spoiled playboy out for a lark rather than a complex man with wants and needs.
Norma leaned her hip against the table. “What do you think brought him here? Jed only said you were doing a favor for a friend.”
Without giving too many details, I explained about Oscar discovering Richard was looking for work. “Pretty sure he wanted a change of scenery, and playing cowboy sounded like fun,” I said dismissively.
Norma tilted her head, studying me in that way of hers. “That’s awfully cynical, even for you.”
“What do you mean ‘even for me’?”
She shrugged and took a seat across from me at the big table. “You’re a serious person, Boone. You tend to look for problems before they happen.” She held up her hand. “And before you get defensive, I’ll admit you have a good reason. You want to be prepared for the worst so you can handle things as they crop up. But I’ve never known you not to give a man a fair chance. So why are you judging Richard based on where he comes from, the clothes he wears, and maybe who he’s friends with? While you’ve had your hand inside cows for the past week, he’s been running feed, riding fence, mucking stalls, and feeding bottle calves, not to mention working on the spreadsheets you asked him to update. There’s not a single job he’s been asked to do that he hasn’t tried his best at. So maybe talk to the man before you decide how you feel about him.”
“Not necessary.” I stood abruptly and took my dishes to the sink. “I know all I need to know about a temporary employee. He signed on to work for a month, and in three weeks, he’ll be gone,” I repeated. “Don’t get too attached.”
Her eyebrows rose at that last bit. “You reminding me of that? Or yourself?”
“Both of us. He’s still got a lot to learn, and I’ve got too much to do to waste time training a greenhorn who’s just going to take off in the middle of the night without a backward look.”
“Hm. None of the other men are complaining about him. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they like him. So why not leave Richard’s training to them?”
That was the obvious solution, and I hated that I couldn’t make myself agree right away. The trouble was, I liked being around Richard. All week, I’d found myself trying to catch glimpses of him, even while I’d forced myself to stay busy with tasks that kept me out of his way. I’d been acting more like a lovesick teenager rather than the self-made owner of a prosperous cattle ranch.
“Maybe I will,” I said, sounding rather petulant.
She gave me a knowing smirk, making it clear she didn’t believe that one bit, but she didn’t know Richard’s type the way I did. She also hadn’t learned the same painful lesson I had: sometimes caring for someone simply wasn’t enough.
Oscar and I had figured that out years and years ago. We’d tried to make our relationship work as best we could back then, but it had required too much sacrifice. Oscar couldn’t be Oscar out here in the country, and there was no way I could have the life I wanted in New York.
Some things just weren’t meant to be.
Despite the animosity between them, Richard and Oscar were more alike than either of them would ever admit, so unless I wanted to repeat that hard lesson, I needed to take any faint stirrings of desire, or interest, or—god forbid—actual feelings I’d started having toward Richard and nip them in the bud before they grew or, worse, blossomed.
But even as I told myself this, deep in my heart, I felt something small and hopeful begin to take root, and I worried it might be too late.
10
RICHARD
My face was on fire as I stormed around the barn, shoving things out of my way before finally settling into the now-familiar motions of filling a cart with horse manure and hauling it out to the dry stacks for composting. Over the past week, I’d stopped needing to block my face with a bandana soaked in anything better-smelling than horse shit, but it still wasn’t an enjoyable task.
