“Thanks, Mr. Anderson.”
“Finn,” he corrected.
Though his larger-than-life boss was only five years older, Cord had a hard time calling him by his first name. Almost too nice to be real, Finn was likely a genius as far as Cord could tell. Yet he’d confessed that he didn’t intend to have a family or even marry, which seemed odd to Cord. If the talk around the water-cooler was correct, there were plenty of women who’d volunteer to change Finn’s mind, if they got the chance.
“Thank you, Finn. I’ll call you next week and give you an update.”
As was the custom, Cord didn’t knock before stepping inside the Buchanans’ back kitchen entrance. Sharon had an open-door policy after eight o’clock. Per her request, he’d been dropping by each morning to let her know how things were progressing. That she always offered some delicious treat made him more than happy to give a daily report. His mouth was already watering.
“Good morning, Sharon. I ran into Peter down at the stable…” His words died on his lips as his eyes adjusted to the interior light, focusing on a woman. Definitely not Mrs. Buchanan. Much younger. And absolutely breathtaking. Dark lashes defined mysterious almond eyes, the color of gray smoke. At a glance, the rest of her face was just as stunning, with a pert nose and lush lips, her jaw more determined than delicate. But those eyes… they were mesmerizing. He could stare into their beguiling depths for the rest of his life.
“Morning, Cord,” Sharon said, bustling at the kitchen counter. “Would you like some hot chocolate? I was trying to convince Jessica she needs to eat more than a protein bar for breakfast.”
The gray eyes blinked, breaking the spell. “Uhmm… I guess I could stay and eat a little something.”
Jessica. Sharon spoke the intriguing stranger’s name as if they’d already met. She must’ve gone to Sage Valley High, though he couldn’t place her. He’d better play it cool—pretend he knew who she was.
“I’d love some hot chocolate,” he replied, removing his hat. “But I can come back later, if you were in the middle of something.”
“No worries. You can stay.” A shy smile broke on Jessica’s lips.
“Would you like a homemade biscuit with some cactus jelly?” asked Sharon.
“Yes, ma’am. I’d love it.” He hung his hat on a wall hook and slid into a chair at the rustic round table, casting a surreptitious glance toward Jessica. He had to say something, to act like he remembered her. Maybe he’d get a clue about her identity. “What are you up to these days, Jessica?”
A perfect eyebrow arched, as if she could see through his ploy. “Working here for the summer. Then back to UNT Dallas for my last year.”
Some quick math told him she was four to six years younger than his twenty-seven. Maybe that’s why he didn’t recognize her. He relaxed, feeling the expectations were lowered.
“You didn’t tell me you hired someone new, Sharon. I’ll need to figure it in to the expenses.” He kept a smile on his face, though he worried Sharon and Peter were hiring more summer help without consulting him. The pair seemed to have on blinders about the financial state of the ranch.
“Don’t worry,” Sharon said, with a cheerful wink. “This employee is worth her weight in gold.”
At his appraising glance, the girl lifted her chin. Hopefully, Sharon was right about Jessica. Her jeans and well-worn western boots were a good sign.
“What will you do when you graduate?” he asked, thinking a local girl might major in something related to agriculture.
“I’ll have a degree in Math, with a certificate to teach high school.” She took a chair across the table, sliding a full mug of steaming cocoa in front of him.
“Math, huh? I have to say, I didn’t care much for calculus.” He took a sip of cocoa.
“That’s okay,” Jessica replied. “I don’t think accountants have much use for calculus.”
He choked on his drink, his eyes watering. How does she know I’m an accountant? Who is she?
“Are you okay?” Jessica asked.
Was that a smirk on her lips? Did she realize he was only pretending to know who she was?
“I’m fine,” he rasped. “It was a little hotter than I expected.”
Sharon set a plate of biscuits in front of him. He took advantage of the distraction to stall for time, slathering a biscuit with butter and jelly while considering the mystery.
He felt her gaze on the top of his bent head. Desperate to divert her attention, he pointed to her untouched mug. “Aren’t you going to eat a biscuit?”
She selected a biscuit and sliced it open to add butter and jelly. “Whatever happened to Picasso?”
He froze with his biscuit in front of his open mouth. “You knew my horse?”