“Because I’ve never heard the word shit,” Hannah muttered, “or stepped in it God knows how many times.”
Andy made his appearance, his hair ruffled in the back from sleeping. “Language, young lady.”
“Is a very useful tool to communicate in real life. So I’ve been told,” Hannah quipped.
“Can you tell she’s a teenager?” Drew crossed her arms, but Cord high-fived Hannah, and Maisie suspected it took both of them to get around Drew’s stubbornness sometimes.
“I hope you brought your appetite because supper is ready.” Cord pointed to the table.
“Can I help?” Maisie asked.
“Check the cornbread in the oven.” Cord carried a crockpot to the middle of the table, a ladle sticking out. The delicious smell of chili made Maisie feel like she hadn’t eaten for a week.
Drew dished enough for three people into a large bowl. She clearly was not the calorie-counting type, although given the amount of physical exercise she did, she hardly needed to be. Maisie knew better than most how strong Drew’s legs and arms were. Before she could stop herself, her brain treated her to a key memory from Vegas that really brought home that point.
I’m thinking of sex with Drew. In front of her family.
Maisie’s face went up in flames.
“Careful. Don’t burn yourself.” Cord motioned for her to move out of the way so he could grab the muffin pan from the oven.
Great.
Now Cord thought she didn’t know her way around the kitchen, which wasn’t too far from the truth. It would quickly become apparent to everyone here that her knowledge of ranches came directly from TV shows. She prayed her marketing skills would live up to what she’d promised Drew, because without that, she served no useful purpose in this environment.
Taking a seat at the table next to Drew, Maisie scooped out half a bowl of chili and took one tiny piece of cornbread. It wasn’t because she was watching her weight or not hungry. The sudden reminder of all the pressure on her to help save this place was making her feel nauseated. If anyone noticed her minuscule portion, no one mentioned it. Maybe they assumed all city girls were perpetually watching their waistlines.
“How was school this week?” Drew asked Hannah.
Maisie looked to Drew with surprise. “This week?”
“Hannah stays with her friend Dylan’s family during the week since we’re so far out here,” Drew explained.
“How is Dylan?” Cord asked in a jovial tone. “Has he proposed yet?”
“I told you he’s not my boyfriend.” Hannah’s face turned a reddish purple, either from extreme embarrassment or rage. Given her age, probably both.
“Is it normal to stay in town?” Maisie asked, hoping a shift in focus would give the girl some time to recover. “Is there not a bus?”
“There is,” Andy chimed in, “But Hannah’s involved in AP classes and extracurricular activities. She’s going to be the first Campbell to go to college,” he added with pride.
“Is that right?” Maisie looked at Hannah, who was scowling at her bowl. “What do you plan to study?”
“Engineering,” Andy answered for her. “Good pay in that. I don’t want either one of my girls having to work so hard that she collapses in bed every night of her life. But only one of ’em is still young enough I can make her listen.”
The resemblance to her own father when he used to talk about college was so striking Maisie’s heart nearly broke in two with how much she missed him. Even so, Maisie couldn’t help noticing the way Hannah continued to stare down at the table. Did she not like being complimented in front of a stranger, or was the college plan not her idea?
“There’s nothing wrong with working hard,” Drew grumbled. “If it’s what a person wants.”
“Darn right,” Cord jumped in, but he winked at Hannah, clearly a co-conspirator. “I’ve been working since I was Hannah’s age, and look where it’s gotten me. I have a trailer and live among a flock of sheep.”
“Sheep? I haven’t seen any sheep,” Maisie said. “You don’t live here in the house?”
“Cramps my bachelor lifestyle.” Cord winked again and was well on his way to becoming the favorite member of Drew’s family that Maisie had met so far. “You don’t see the sheep because they’re less glamorous than cattle. Wyoming folks hate ’em, even if they can be a necessary evil for making ends meet. Only washed-up old cowboys like myself stoop to tending to them.”
“That’s not true,” Drew said, but Cord didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her outcry.
“Have you ever heard of how a rancher finds someone to take care of sheep?” When Maisie shook her head, Cord continued, “You go to the bar on the outskirts of town, the one that has the lowest of the low patronage. You wait until a fella gets kicked out on his keister, usually with someone yelling at him about being a no-good son of a—well, you understand. That’s your sheep man.” Cord laughed as he pointed to himself, and Maisie couldn’t help but join him.