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Uncle Vern might not be as terrifying as Harley’s mother, but he was still an Abrams. Drawing on what little strength she had, Harley straightened her back and lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to show him weakness. No matter what else happened while she was here in Copper Creek, she wouldn’t allow him to win.
He quirked one eyebrow as he glanced around her. “You missed breakfast,” he grunted.
She stiffened, that latent fury returning. “You said I didn’t earn it.” She gripped the pitchfork with both hands until her hands went numb, itching to hurl a few accusations right back at him, but then he stopped her.
Vern jerked his chin toward the exit. “It’s time for lunch.”
“I—” She frowned. While her whole body howled with the strain of physical labor, she couldn’t make sense of the fact that she’d lost track of time to that degree.
“It isn’t much. I usually just make grilled sandwiches for lunch.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Anyway, it’s ready.” With that last statement, he headed out of the building, disappearing from view.
Not for the first time did Harley’s mouth hang open in surprise. What game was he playing? He had to be toying with her; that was the only thing that made sense. He was trying to throw her off balance.
Harley put the pitchfork against the wall, her eyes narrowing. Uncle Vern wasn’t going to get to her. She refused to allow him to push her around. As soon as she had Mason here and she was able to win him over, she’d be sitting pretty. The rest of the summer would be smooth sailing. She smiled. If she played her cards right, she’d be able to convince Mason to do most of her chores, too.
She followed her uncle into the house, pausing only when she saw the table set for two. There were plates with sandwiches, a bag of chips, and empty glasses with a pitcher of water nearby. Vern pulled out his chair and took a seat. He didn’t bother meeting her gaze as he dumped some barbeque chips on his plate. Then he filled his glass with water.
Every action made it clear that he didn’t care what she was going to do. He’d invited her. He’d gotten her food. That was all he was expected to do at this point.
Harley washed her hands and then approached the table, fully expecting her uncle to tell her that she better eat up now, because if she didn’t do more work by the time dinner rolled around, she’d be going hungry again.
Instead, he sat quietly munching. There was no mention of where she’d slipped off to this morning, though she figured Mason had told him everything. He didn’t comment on the job she’d done in the barn. The only sound was the crunching of the potato chips.
It felt eerily like the family meals she’d been forced to share with her mother… only not nearly as cold.
Sitting across from her uncle was different in one way. She didn’t feel the absolute judgment she used to feel from her mother. If anything, Uncle Vern was giving her some indifferent vibes.
Harley picked up her sandwich and took a bite. The grilled bread hit her hard with a crispy, buttery and salty texture. The cheese stretched from her teeth as she pulled the sandwich from her mouth. She got a better look and noted spinach and tomato inside the cheese sandwich. It wasn’t what she was expecting from a grown man who lived on his own.
She glanced in her uncle’s direction, but he was focused on his own meal. She wracked her brain for everything she could remember her mother telling her about him. He’d never married, but she wasn’t sure if that was because he’d never found the right person or if he’d never been interested—then again, those sounded like the same thing to her.
Picking up a chip, she fiddled with it as she contemplated the fact that he didn’t have any kids of his own. He probably dodged a bullet with that decision. At least he didn’t have someone he would be chronically disappointed in.
“You’re free to do whatever you’d like for the remainder of the day.”
Her head snapped up and she stared at her uncle with surprise. “But my chores—”
“You did more than enough for your first official day.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. There was nothing she could say. Never in a million years did she think she could feel this elated over not having to work. Those chores had broken up the monotony in her day already, and it was only half-way done.
“Perhaps you’d like to go into town and pick out a few things from the supply store.”
Her nose wrinkled. What did she need with supplies? He couldn’t actually be suggesting that she would want to get corn feed or tools, was he?
This time, Vern did smile. “I thought you might want to get some more appropriate clothes.” He nodded toward her. “Those shorts aren’t going to cut it when you’re riding.”
“Riding?” she squeaked. The last time she went riding was when her mother was going through a dressage and 4H phase. Mrs. Pembrooke had insisted that all the girls Harley’s age were competing.
Unfortunately, Harley hadn’t figured out the best way to stay in the saddle. That experience was one of the first to push her away from her mother. Her failed dressage career was the first major disappointment for them both.
“Yes, riding.” Vern drew her back to the present. “You’re going to be working the ranch for the next couple months. You realize that is going to require you to get in the saddle and help out with the livestock.”
“But I thought… let me assure you, me getting in the saddle is the last thing you want.” There was a slight tremble to her voice, one she prayed he wouldn’t notice. Something told her that he wouldn’t care even if he noticed her nerves. Based on her recent experiences, she didn’t have much hope that her uncle would let her get away with keeping her feet solidly on the ground.
Vern wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Regardless, you’re going to need a good pair of boots and some jeans that don’t look like they’ve been put through the woodchipper.”
She sucked in sharply, cutting off the air that would have been a laugh. “I’ll have you know my pants probably cost more than…” Her voice trailed off as Vern met her gaze without humor. Once again, he was proving just how little he cared about her choice in clothing. Harley’s eyes dropped to her lap and she fidgeted. “Okay. I’ll pick out some new things.”
