Silas stiffened at her question. Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good sign. A moment later, he relaxed and flashed her a wide smile. “Nope. Apparently, I’m not experienced enough to be the foreman of the Clarks’ spread. They hired a new guy from out of town. He came from a bigger ranch down in Texas, so I’m sure he’ll do fine.”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry. Well, that’s their loss. You’d be a great foreman. Imagine hiring a Texan. What does a Texan know about Wyoming winters? I’ll bet when he has to check the herds in subzero weather, he’ll head back to sunnier pastures, no pun intended.”
Silas cocked his head and shrugged. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
Kip wanted to march out to the Three Eagles and give Jack Clark, the owner of the Three Eagles Ranch, a piece of her mind. Silas had been with them for more than ten years. Surely that was good for something. “I hope they know what they’re doing, passing on an experienced cowboy like you. Breakfast’s on me this morning. What’ll you have?”
Silas stiffened, and she realized she’d made a mistake. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to that cowboy pride. Not that she’d need to now.
“I ‘preciate that, but I can pay for my own food. I just want a cup a’coffee.”
“Cream and sugar? Or would you like to try one of our peppermint lattes this morning?”
He stared at her with a frown. “That supposed to be a joke?”
Yikes! Losing the foreman position bothered him more than he let on. “One coffee, black as tar and strong enough to lift a steer, coming right up.”
He gave her a nod. “That’s more like it.”
She grinned. The stoic, taciturn characters in those LouisL’Amour westerns couldn’t hold a candle to Silas. “I’ll have it right out.”
That went pretty well. She was worried Silas would blame her if he didn’t get the job, especially after she spilled coffee all over the table during his meeting. To be honest, it hadn’t seemed like the meeting was going that smoothly, but she’d been hoping for the best. Silas had always been nice to her and left generous tips.
She moved to the next booth, bracing herself to handle the overdressed tourist. “Howdy!” she chirped. There, that was cheerful and Western. “What can I get you this morning?”
The man peered over the top of the menu. He looked her up and down as he handed her the laminated list of Sunday morning options. “I’ll have a slice of huckleberry coffee cake and a cup of coffee. And before you ask, I want mine black as well.”
“Good choice. You can’t go wrong with huckleberry anything, especially the coffee cake. You’ll have to come back in the summer and try the huckleberry ice cream.”
He didn’t answer, swapping his stare for a leer. Either way, the man gave her the creeps. She didn’t like him, and her douchebag radar was almost never wrong.
“Right. I’ll get that order right out,” she said, turning her back before he could speak. Was he still staring? She could swear his eyes burned into her back, or more likely her backside. She could tell by the way the skin on the back of her neck crawled. No need to waste time checking. Instead, quickening her pace, she crossed the room to Trace.
CHAPTER 2
Trace grinned as Kip made her way to him. She’d been avoiding him all morning. He liked to think she’d been saving the best for last. At her shiver, his grin grew into a smile.
When she reached his table, she cocked her hip to the side and lifted her order pad, staring at it like it had the winning numbers to the lottery on the page. Without so much as a glance, she offered him a “Morning, Trace. What’ll you have this morning? Wait, let me guess. It’s Sunday, so that means an Old Wrangler, eggs over easy, tater tot casserole, and add an extra rasher of bacon. I’d think with you having a medical degree, you’d eat better.”
She brought her pad up so he couldn’t see her face. It took all he could do to hold back a laugh at her prim tone. “You’d think.”
She was such a mystery, and he’d always loved a good puzzle. Especially, one as sweet and sassy as his little fox. But after hearing her call him Daddy all day at the Friendsgiving the day before, hearing Trace on her lips didn’t sit well. He liked hearing her call him Daddy.
Slow. You need to go slow.
Reaching up, he crooked a finger over the top of her order padand forced it down to her waist. “Morning, Foxy. ‘Bout time you made your way to my table,” he teased. “Anyone would think you want me to starve to death. By the way, I enjoyed yesterday. Wanna do it again?”
I thought you were going slow.
On second thought, slow was never his style. When he knew what he wanted, he went for it. Or her, as the case may be.
The blush dusting her cheeks at his nickname for her did wicked things to his dick. The fire in her eyes warned him of a sassy comment in the making. Not that he hadn’t known what would happen.
He loved teasing her. She seemed to hide her emotions from everyone. Everyone except him. Hopefully, that came from her trust in him. He’d worked tirelessly for the past six months to earn that trust, and in the past few weeks, he could see her loosening up.
One day soon, she was going to tell him what dark devil was chasing her. Because if he’d ever seen a woman on the run, it was Kip Harper. When she told him who was chasing her, he’d take care of it. He’d do whatever it took to remove the tenseness from her eyes. Always on guard. Always waiting for the hammer to fall.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I can’t always be at the mighty Trace Daniels’ beck and call, you know. I have other customers.”
