"Cowboy should be in any minute," Dusty said.
Jim glanced at his brother, his eyebrows raised. "Cowboy?"
"He worked for Karl for a few weeks. I liked what I saw."
"He eats here, with the family?" Mindy was prepared to work with him, not eat with him.
"I finally talked him into it," Dusty said.
"What Dusty meant to say is he finally sent in the big guns." Faith grinned. "He sent me and Hope over to invite him. How was he supposed to say, 'no'? Especially when I brought a basket of goodies."
"A sample of what he was missing, no doubt?" Jim asked.
"Of course," Dusty replied before Faith, pride etched across his countenance. "Like shaking a grain bucket."
Mindy wished the stranger had resisted. Between one breath and the next, her sense of safety vanished. She struggled to banish the resentment mounting toward the faceless man. What if he stared? What if he was uncomfortable? What if he was repulsed?
Her skin tingled, her breath shortened, and her heart raced. A slow pivot turned her to face the kitchen's entryway.
Tall, dark, and handsome. In a way, a younger version of her dad, only more... everything. Darker hair, darker eyes, darker skin. Taller, muscled, broader in the shoulders and chest. Quiet. No smile. No love for her in his eyes. Not like her dad at all.
"Evening." Low and deep, smooth and rich as hot fudge.