None too soon, my daughter returns. She’s pulled her tresses into a neat ponytail. A faint sheen of lip gloss catches the light.
Oh no.She’s up to something.
Once she’s plopped onto the chair across from our visitor, she tilts her head in mock curiosity. “So, what are you doing here,Jack from Wildlife?” Her tone is spot-on, mimicking Jake from the State Farm commercials.
While I snort, my guest raises an eyebrow. “I had a little car trouble. Your mom was kind enough to let me stay until my tires are fixed.”
My teenager hums, tapping a finger on the table like she’s considering his words carefully. With the confidence of a kid spoiled by her dad’s guilt trips, she announces, “Well, if that’s the case, why not take us out to eat?”
I groan. “Mackenzie, that’s not polite.”
She shrugs, completely unbothered.
Thankfully, Gurion chuckles. Not missing a beat, he bobs his head. “Dinner sounds like fun.”
“Wait, what?” Nonplussed, I blink to ensure I haven’t fallen into an alternate reality.
Challenge in his eyes, he places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “Yeah. I mean, it’s only fair. Your mom saved me from being stranded in the middle of nowhere. The least I can do is buy you both a meal.”
Mack beams. “See, Mother? He doesn’t mind.”
I sigh, rubbing my temple. Clearly, my vote doesn’t count, and if I’m honest, I want to spend more time with the hot ex-Marine.
I push back from the table, shaking my head. “Fine. But if we do this, I get to pick the place.”
“Ugh. No salad bars, please.” The groan from my daughter makes me laugh. She thinks pizza sauce counts as a vegetable.
“I was hoping for steak.” The Natural Resources employee smirks as I thumb through the menus in the drawer under the coffee.
Excellent. Now they’re ganging up on me.
Before long, five o’clock rolls around, and my replacement shows up.
“Hey, squirt.” Jeremy, clad in his cow-scented plaid jacket, ruffles Mack’s hair as he steps inside.
She swats at him half-heartedly, but a grin tugs at her lips.
Shrugging off his coat, he settles behind the desk. Grabbing the logbook, his sharp gaze flicks to Mr. Gurion. Just like that, the farmer’s easygoing demeanor shifts. The death stare he levels at my guest is straight out of a sci-fi novel—cold, assessing, and terrifying.
“Anything noteworthy I should be aware of?” He scratches his salt-and-pepper beard, his attention still locked on Jack.
“Nope. Same ol’, same ol’.” I suppress a sigh while maintaining a neutral expression. The town grapevine has undoubtedly worked overtime, spinning his arrest last night into something far more interesting than the truth.
Jeremy grunts but doesn’t appear convinced. “What about Rob? Have you heard from him yet?”
His question twists my stomach. Dante isn’t only my boss—he’s one of Jeremy’s best friends. The fact he’s gone radio silent concerns us both.
I shake my head. “To be honest, I’m starting to worry.”
My friend and coworker exhales, settling his heavy frame into the desk chair. “I wouldn’t. You know how he gets.”
His comment doesn’t quell the acid burning my esophagus. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Eyeing me for a moment, he smirks. “Are you going for his job when he retires?”
“Me? Hell, no.” My laugh, more like a seal’s bark, makes me slap a hand to my mouth. “I like my cushy position.”
Jeremy chuckles. “Me too. Besides, I’ve got a farm to run.”
