Chapter 4
L enore saw Brandon pull into a parking space through the window of the restaurant, the same nerves that had made her leave the homestead too early now making her clutch the manila folder in a fist.
He didn’t hesitate as he dropped from behind the wheel, slammed the door, and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Lenore’s pulse grew wings and fluttered through her whole body.
She ducked her head away from the window, as if trying to hide from him—which was absolutely ridiculous, because she’d come here specifically to meet him.
The windows were tinted, and she knew he couldn’t see in.
So she looked up again and watched him as he walked down the sidewalk with strong, sure steps.
She wondered what it would be like to feel that level of confidence all the time.
With a shaking hand, she reached for her coffee cup just as the waitress approached.
“Still waiting for your date?” she asked.
Lenore looked up at the pretty blonde. “It’s not a date,” she said.
The waitress’s eyebrows went up, and when Lenore set her coffee cup on the table, the woman refilled it. “All right,” she said. “You let me know when you’re ready to order.”
“Thank you,” Lenore said, wishing she could recall the snappy words about her meeting with Brandon not being a date.
She could admit that she’d thought about it being a date a time or two. Fine—maybe ten. But every time, she’d sternly reminded herself that this was a business meeting. They simply happened to be eating lunch at the same time.
“Yep, that’s her,” Brandon said, and Lenore’s attention swooped to him.
Unfortunately, so did the waitress’s. Her head swiveled toward Brandon, then immediately snapped back to Lenore.
“You’re going out with Brandon Rhinehart?” she hissed, the words slithering out underneath the waitress’s breath.
Hadn’t Lenore already said it wasn’t a date?
“He is gorgeous ,” the waitress said, leaning in closer. “Charming. But, girl, you need to?—”
“Hey,” Brandon said, interrupting her.
The waitress fell back a step, and Lenore noticed the mega-watt smile on her face.
Brandon looked at her, his demeanor fading rapidly. “Oh, hey, Jane.”
He slid into the booth, electricity crackling in the air now. Lenore wasn’t sure if it was between her and him, or between Jane and him, or if it all simply originated from Brandon Rhinehart himself. The man was magnetic, and Jane had spoken true.
He was stunningly gorgeous, and he had to know it—with that sandy blonde hair swept to the side just-so, and that sexy beard trimmed exactly right.
Lenore had expected him to show up in his Sunday best—slacks, white shirt, and tie—but he sported a bright blue polo with thin black stripes and a black cowboy hat that looked like it had never been worn a day in its life.
“Coffee, Brandon?” Jane asked, as if they were old pals.
“Sure,” Brandon said, reaching to turn over his coffee cup. “And I didn’t get a menu.”
“I’ll get you one,” Jane chirped. As she poured the coffee, she looked at Lenore, and their eyes caught for a long moment before she walked away.
Lenore watched her for a breath, and then looked over to Brandon.
“Hey,” he said easily. “You’ve been waiting long?” His eyes swept the table where, surely, he had to see the used sugar and cream packets.
“Not long,” Lenore said, unwilling to tell him she’d been so nervous about this meeting. “You know Jane?”
“Yeah,” Brandon said, but he didn’t elaborate.
The tension had definitely dissipated, but the hot, snapping crackle between her and Brandon had not. He smiled at her, and by some miracle, Lenore found her own mouth curving up in response.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“I’m just relieved you showed up,” she admitted with a light laugh.
Brandon’s soft chuckle joined hers. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
Lenore wanted to roll her head and press against her temples—a measure of exhaustion that always accompanied her suddenly descending on her in an overwhelming way. “I know the homestead is a complete mess,” she said.
“It’s a disaster, all right,” Brandon agreed, but he sounded like it didn’t bother him.
“I kind of expected you to text this morning and say you changed your mind.” She dared to peek at him, her eyes latching onto his pretty hazel ones. With the blue shirt, they almost danced like murky water, as the blue fought to find its way into his more green and golden depths.
“Oh, I think about texting you and quitting every day,” he said with another laugh. “But I need the work. And I’ll admit, having a place of my own is a high priority on my list.”
Lenore frowned as he picked up a sugar packet and ripped it open. “A place of your own?”
“Yeah,” Brandon said. “I’m thirty-six, right? And I’ve always lived with someone else. I’ve never had anything that was just mine. And that cabin at the homestead is going to be all mine .”
He grinned, like the eight-hundred-square-foot cabin would change his life in the best way possible.
Lenore blinked, trying to catalog everything he’d said.
She’d suspected he was older than her, but five years wasn’t all that much.
She’d made assumptions about why he would leave his family ranch and come work for her, but she’d never asked outright.
So she opened her mouth and asked, “Why don’t you have a place of your own? ”
Brandon dimmed again, his smile disappearing. “I love Hidden Hills. I do.” He lifted his coffee cup and took a tentative sip, then quickly reached for another sugar packet. “I forget how bitter the coffee is here.”
She gave him the moment to put more sugar in his coffee, as he clearly wanted to contemplate what he had to say.
“But I’ve got two older brothers,” he said. “They’re both married. They’ve got kids. And while there’s plenty to do at Hidden Hills, I feel dissatisfied there.”
He nodded and pressed his lips together.
“Yep, that’s the truth of it, even if I haven’t said that to my daddy or brothers.
I don’t see a future for myself at Hidden Hills.
My older brother is only in his mid-fifties, and he has plenty of life left to run the ranch.
He’s got four kids, and they all work there too.
So does his wife. And my next oldest brother is only a couple years older than me, and he’s integral to the operations at Hidden Hills as well. ”
Brandon shrugged, lifted both hands as if to say what are you gonna do? clapped them together lightly, and let them fall to the table. “Of course, I can live there and work there for the rest of my life. I just don’t want to.”
Lenore nodded, though she had no siblings and didn’t understand the dynamics of families like that. “You haven’t thought about buying a place of your own?”
“Have you seen real estate prices?” he countered.
Lenore gave him a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen them.”
In fact, Lenore had been thinking a lot about real estate prices and what she could reasonably get if she sold the homestead.
Enough to start over somewhere else—that was for sure.
Enough to buy a nice house in town and find a job that could support her for the rest of her life.
Enough to not have to work twenty hours a day, or shower at the truck stop, or worry constantly over the livestock and if they’d be alive in the morning.
And yet, the thought of selling the homestead turned Lenore’s stomach in such a violent way that she leaned forward, an ache moving through her body and soul with it.
“So you think you’ll be satisfied hiring yourself out?” she asked.
Brandon looked like she’d hit him with a lightning bolt, his expression quickly sagging as he sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s working right now, as I try to figure out what I really want.”
He focused on his coffee again, stirring as if the sugar wouldn’t dissolve if he stopped. He lifted his cup to his mouth and took another drink, this time smacking his lips with a smile. “That’s a lot better.”
“A menu, Brandon,” Jane said, suddenly reappearing at the end of the table.
“We’re doing Sunday brunch this morning.
It’s five courses, all set.” She pointed to the single sheet of paper clipped to the laminated menu.
“If you want that, it’s a set price. All the coffee and mimosas you want.
And I can bring out the fruit platter immediately. ”
Brandon looked across the table to Lenore, his eyebrows raised. “You want Sunday brunch?”
Lenore had been so consumed by anxiety, she hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Sure,” she said, her eyes landing on the price of Sunday brunch, another quench moving through her body. “Brunch sounds great.” Her voice only came out slightly strangled.
Brandon reached across the table, picked up her menu, layered it over his and handed them back to Jane. “We’ll take the brunch times two, but I don’t want to drink alcohol. What else can I get?”
“I can bring you regular orange juice, apple juice, a soda,” Jane said, her eyebrows perfectly pointed into a question mark.
“You got those pineapple mango smoothies?”
Jane grinned at him. “Sure thing.” She looked over to Lenore. “Anything else for you? Besides coffee?”
Lenore could probably use a stiff drink, but since she also didn’t normally consume alcohol and would have to drive herself back to the homestead, she said, “I’ll take orange juice.”
“Coming right up,” Jane said before she walked away again.
Brandon nodded to the folder. “You want me to look at that?”
Lenore practically shoved it at him. “Yes.” Confessions and admissions filled her mind and almost surged out of her mouth, but she clamped her teeth tight and pressed her lips closed as he flipped open the folder.
She’d looked up the contract online, as she’d never hired someone before.
In the past, when her father had done it, he hadn’t used a contract.
Lenore could see the wisdom in such things, and she’d filled out her name and address, along with his, at the top.
She’d included phone numbers and email addresses, the amount of the salary and when it would be paid, and then she’d tried to spell out the agreement between them as clearly as possible.
He would get lodging. He could have access to the eggs and vegetables that she grew. She would pay for repairs and supplies, and he would work.
To be honest, she hadn’t even considered days off, as she worked twenty-four-seven out of sheer necessity.
But she couldn’t expect someone else to do the same.
And she’d taken what he’d said about not being an early riser and said she expected him to work from ten a.m. until seven p.m., with “regular breaks and an hour-long lunch.”
“The hours aren’t strict,” Lenore said.
Brandon nodded but didn’t look up from the papers.
“I mean, I don’t care if you start at nine or ten or six,” she said. “And I don’t really care if you work eight hours a day. We just have to get the job done.”
For some reason, she trusted him to do what he said he’d do, and she didn’t think he’d move into the cabin, hang a hammock in the trees behind it, and ignore her.
“I’m sure the hours won’t look uniform,” he finally said as he looked up. “Thank you for allowing me to stick to my late-rising schedule.”
He grinned, revealing his straight white teeth, and Lenore sure was glad she was already sitting so she wouldn’t swoon.
“The first is a Tuesday,” he said. “Do you mind if I move in on Saturday? My brothers can come help me that day.”
“Like six days from now?” Lenore asked.
Brandon tilted his head, his smile still stuck in place. “Yeah, like six days from now. I’m going to be starting eight days from now. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” Lenore said.
Jane arrived with the fruit platter. It came on a beautifully stained cheese board, done in a checkerboard pattern, with various fruits arranged perfectly with cheeses, nuts, and little pots of honey.
It was the most beautiful thing Lenore had ever seen, and she marveled at the deep red strawberries and the crinkly dried apricots, the glazed almonds and the salty pistachios. She saw cheeses she’d never heard of before, in little rounds and triangles.
“Wow,” Brandon said. “This is amazing.”
Jane pointed to the pot on the end. “This is raspberry jam,” she said. “It goes great with some of the cheeses and those little crackers on the end.”
Lenore hadn’t even seen those, and her mouth watered as she took in the wheat squares with salted oats on top. It looked like pomegranate seeds sprinkled near the crackers too, and Lenore wanted to dive into this fruit platter and swim around.
“The middle one is apple blossom honey,” she said. “We get it from the Franklin apple orchards, and it is delicious . And on the end, you have salted clotted cream. I actually think it’s best in coffee.”
She gave a little giggle, smiled at both of them, and said, “Drinks are coming right up.”
She left again, and Lenore looked across the table to Brandon. He met her eye, but neither one of them moved to take the food. “You got a pen?” he asked.
Lenore scrambled into her purse to get out the pen she’d brought for him to sign the contract.
“Let’s get this done and out of the way, and then we can enjoy brunch.”
Lenore watched him scratch his signature across the bottom of the page, close the folder, and hand it back to her. He nodded like that was that, and relief like Lenore had never known filled her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “And yeah, you can move in any time on Saturday.”
Her stomach shivered a little bit at the thought. Then she reached for the largest, ripest strawberry, determined to do exactly what Brandon had said—enjoy brunch…with the hottest man in Three Rivers.