"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.
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