He shrugged. “Fourteen summers is a long time, and he liked to talk about you.”
“Good or bad?”
Hesmiled. “Both.”
Libby flipped a golden curl over her shoulder. “Overtime pay at my level is around two hundred an hour.”
Whoa.Plus, Marty would have left her a barrel of money. “I don’t think that’s what your uncle had in mind.”
She sighed. “No. For whatever reason, I don’t suppose it is. Actually, being a model is a lot like being an actor. Sometimes you work, sometimes you don’t. And waiting around for something to turn up can really be boring.”
Her honesty surprised him. Then again, everything about hersurprised him.
She flicked Clara a glance. “I guess if your aunt is willing to work that hard, I can too.”
Sam would have to see it to believe it. Still, there was a chance she had more grit than he’dfirst thought.
His gaze went to the rectangular shape in her front pocket. “One more thing. Your cell phone stays in your room. You’re free to use it on your own time when you’re upstairs, but you can’t bringit down here.”
Her hand went protectively to the phone. “You’re kidding, right? That’s your idea of a joke?”
Sam cast her a pitying glance. “Sorry, no joke. One of the reasons people come here is to escape the outside world. Families want their kids to appreciate the beauty around them. People like your uncle...they just want a chance to be free from outside pressures, at least for a while.”
Libby grumbled something he couldn’t hear. “Fine,” she said.
“All right, that’s it for now. In the morning, I’ll show you around. The first guests will be arriving sometime tomorrow. You can help me check them in. Part of your job is to make themfeel welcome.”
She said nothing.
“Clara can fill you in on what she needs you to do in the kitchen. I’ll see you both at supper.” Turning, he walked outof the kitchen.
On his way to the barn, Sam spent a full five minutes trying to erase the memory of perfect breasts beneath a sleeveless white tank top and the sexy behind that was impossible to miss with the glitter of rhinestoneson each cheek.
He gave a long-suffering sigh. The next month was going to seem like a lifetime.
Chapter Five
Libby made it through supper preparations with only a few minor mishaps. She had warned Clara ahead of time that she had no idea how to cook anything more than frozen pizza and an occasional omelet, but she was willing to learn.
“You’ll do fine,” Clara said, patting her hand, but the woman was smart enough not to give her any difficult tasks.
Libby peeled potatoes, saving the skins to feed the chickens, then washed lettuce and sliced tomatoes for a salad. She hadn’t known dicing onions was such a miserable task until Sam walked in and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. His worried expression looked almost sympathetic.
Libby burst out laughing. “Onions,” she told him, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.
Sam smiled with relief, and a warm feeling rose in her chest. It had been years since a man’s smile had made her feel anything more than wary. She reminded herself not to let her guard down and quickly went back to work.
The meal—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy—came together smoothly, evidence of Clara’s years of experience. There were vegetables right out of the garden and homemade bread, so there were plenty of vegetarian options for Libby.
Sam introduced her to the cowhands who worked at the ranch. Starting tomorrow, while guests were in residence, the men would take their meals inthe bunkhouse.
Tonight they sat grouped around the kitchen table: Julio Santiago, the ranch foreman, an older Latino man with leathery skin burnt dark from the sun; Big John Coolwater, Native American, at least six-six with long black hair in a single thick braid.
Dare Landon was in his late twenties, a good-looking guy with sandy-brown hair who seemed quiet, capable, and kept to himself. He’d been raised on a ranch in Montana, Sam said, been in the marines before he’d come to work at the ranch. Ronnie Yates was a handsome African American man who struck her as intelligent and friendly. All of them were pleasantand respectful.
Fortunately, her kitchen duties didn’t look all that daunting. Libby had worked a lot of different jobs in the city, but her boredom threshold was low and none of them had lasted very long. Sooner or later, she would find her true calling, she was sure, which definitely wasn’t cooking or modeling of any kind.
In college at Columbia, she had taken a class in astronomy merely to satisfy a requirement for graduation, then ended up dropping out of school at the end of her third year. Much to her uncle’s chagrin.
