Rose had called a couple days ago to offer her the job, and River had said yes. It took twenty-four hours to get in gear and move onto Taylor Farm. She already had one barbecue under her belt, which apparently wasn’t unusual in Copper Creek. Or maybe it just wasn’t unusual for Rose and her family.
River still wasn’t exactly sure what that gathering had been for. She’d shown up, smiled at the right people, and slipped off to her new place as soon as she could. Normally, she didn’t mind being social. But that day had wrung her out before it had even really started.
She twisted her blonde hair into a messy bun on top of her head and tied one of her red bandanas around it. She wore a white tank and her favorite pair of overalls. Then she pulled on her combat boots and headed out the door.
The second she stepped outside, a stiff, cool breeze hit her hard and made her shiver. She turned right back around, grabbed the worn hoodie she’d had forever, and tugged it on. It had a few holes from getting snagged on equipment over the years. Maybe after her first paycheck, she could replace it.
Maybe.
She headed down the outside staircase attached to the house. The garage looked big enough for three vehicles. From whatshe’d gathered, the Taylor household consisted of Mr. Taylor and his six daughters. So far, she’d only met Rose, Lily, and Jasmine. The latter two were twins. The house itself was a decent size. Clearly, Mr. Taylor had done well enough for himself over the years to provide for such a large family.
From the looks of it, everybody had a vehicle.
Which meant…
River slowed as she rounded the side of the house.
There were more than eight vehicles parked out front.
She counted again.
Nine, including her own.
Her beat-up Ford was easy enough to spot—old, cheap, and held together more by her stubbornness than anything else. She was the only reason it still ran.
Then there were the Toyotas. Seven of them, all newer and all in solid shape. Some were crossovers. Others were trucks.
Her gaze landed on the only other Ford.
She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer.
It was in decent shape for being at least ten years old, if the body was any indication. The owner took care of it. Sure, there was a little dust along the lower panels, and the tires looked like they’d seen plenty of dirt roads, but it was in pretty good shape overall.
Now that was more like it. This was the kind of truck she liked.
She found herself wondering who exactly owned this truck. It seemed too early in the day for one of the girls to have someone over, and based on the few things Rose had told River about her father, the man was old-fashioned to his very core. The type who looked like he might answer the door with a shotgun if a potential boyfriend showed up before he approved.
River reached out to touch the grille, but a deep voice stopped her.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. She bites.”
She turned.
The cowboy standing there wore faded Wranglers and dusty boots. His eyes were a deep blue, and a hint of dark hair peeked out from under his sand-colored cowboy hat. His blue-and-green plaid shirt stretched across broad shoulders and bunched around his biceps. He was the kind of handsome most women would notice right away.
River’s foster sister Skye would have drooled just looking at the man.
River crossed her arms. “Why? You afraid I’ll hurt her feelings?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Something like that.”
Her gaze flicked back to the truck, then to him. “So you’re one of those people.”
“One of what people?”
“The kind who gives a truck a personality.”
His smile deepened, just a little. “Only when it’s earned one.”
