Page 11 of Second Start: Family
“Real sorry,” Molly confirmed. “And he’d like to make it up to you with a home-cooked meal Sunday.”
The man she’d encountered last night sent his daughters as apologetic emissaries?
Gentling her disbelief, Kenzie said, “That’s very nice of you both — and, uh, your father, but I don’t think—”
“Chicken.”
Vicky’s taunt floated into Kenzie’s ear and directly to her nerves. Jerking her head around, she took the full force of Vicky’s look of glinting challenge.
“That’s not—”
“I mean you’ll probably have chicken. You know, for dinner?” Vicky’s eyes widened in artless innocence. “It’s a fine old tradition, having the teacher to Sunday dinner.”
“It might not be chicken.” A frown tucked between Lizzie’s brows. “Daddy says even if everybody else follows some slick advertising campaign to eat chicken, we should stick with beef, since that’s our business. Though he does eat a lot of bologna sandwiches. Is that beef?”
“We’ll have chicken,” Molly said hurriedly, as if the menu would decide Kenzie.
What did decide Kenzie were identical anxious expressions trained on her.
“I’d be happy to come to dinner Sunday.” It was a fib in a good cause.
*
Hall’s mood wasn’t quite as black as his hands. There’d been no rest for him this Sunday, but at least he’d gotten in the combining.
He’d spent Thursday battling with the machine before an afternoon run, first to Sheridan and then to Billings, for a part that might as well have been made of gold for what it cost. It took almost all of Friday to put in the part and get the combiner working. Since then, with nearly three days’ worth of catching up to do, he’d worked as many hours as there were.
He was nearly back on track.
On the downside, he felt like a piece of raw meat rolled in cracker crumbs and fried. Particles of grain clung to every inch of his skin, sifting inside his clothes, where it itched and chafed as the sun stirred plenty of sweat for it to stick to. All he wanted was a long, hot shower, a beer, and a ballgame on TV. Football or … were the Rockies playing tonight?
Trying to recall a baseball schedule he’d barely glanced at six days ago, he didn’t notice the unfamiliar blue-green car ahead of him until the last few yards of the long dirt drive to the house.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out the driver emerging from the car. A breeze pushed at the fabric of her tan slacks, showing the shape of her thigh, then masking it, then showing it again. A stronger push from the wind molded the pants against her ass — a very nice ass. Who the hell was she?
Dark hair with soft waves coming down to her shoulders. Soft-looking face, too, except for the pointed chin that spelled stubborn. Couldn’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but he had a feeling they were dark. Dark enough to look black when they opened wide and—
The new teacher.
When his truck coasted to a stop and he swung out, she stood beside her car. Her tentative, cool smile slipped as she considered his appearance.
“Miss Kenz— Ms. Smith.” He started to offer a hand to shake, caught sight of it and pulled back as she raised hers. After a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her hand to clasp her other in front of her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Combiner’s kicking out a lot of grit.”
“That must be, uh, uncomfortable.”
“I’ll be glad of a shower, but at least the damn— uh, darned thing is kicking something out now. Took two more days to get it to do anything.”
A puzzled frown. “But … but I thought you were a cattle rancher.”
“Ranchers round here do a little of everything, including farming. Grain, hay, if you’ve got enough water short-season corn if the weather’s good. Not this year, not with the dryness. It’s cheaper to grow yourself than buy — if your machinery holds up.”
The final words reminded him of missing the conference. That must be why she was here, wanting another strip out of his hide for not making a new appointment. He’d told himself he’d do that as soon as he caught up.
“Look, I know we need to talk about the girls’ progress, but this isn’t a good time.”
Not a good time, wasn’t the first phrase that came to mind, but he was minding his manners this go-round.
