a seat.” Mrs. Foxworthy motioned to the table. “We can talk here, if you don’t mind Bridget hovering nearby.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t.”
Not at all. For starters, she was easy on the eyes. Bouncy reddish-blond hair framing the face of an angel, when she wasn’t scowling. Nice figure, from what he could tell. That apron did her no favors. Dancing green eyes, his particular weakness. And a great cook.
Could be a little friendlier. Then again, she might not have appreciated his...exuberance. Ryan couldn’t help himself. She was an attractive woman. His neighbor, Nora, had said as much, but Ryan took that with a grain of salt. Then he’d seen Bridget, and his brain turned to mush.
But if he wanted this job—and he did want it—he needed to rein in his enthusiasm. Ryan was the owner of a healthy bank account. But all that money was earmarked for remodeling the house, and he’d need every penny, if not more.
When it came to covering his day-to-day living expenses, he relied entirely on money he earned from side jobs. Those funds were running dangerously low. This past week, he’d begun subsiding on boxed macaroni-and-cheese and bologna sandwiches. Another reason he was currently making a pig of himself.
“Our part-time wrangler wants to retire,” Mrs. Foxworthy explained. She’d helped herself to a cup of coffee after offering one to Ryan. “With trail rides starting soon and the addition of three more horses to our stables, we need someone full-time. I forgot to ask, do you have much experience with driving a carriage and hay wagon?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Call me Emily, please.”
“Thank you, Emily.” Ryan pushed aside his plate of food. Cramming his face wouldn’t look good during an interview. He could finish later. “I grew up on a working farm outside of Austin. Fourth generation.”
“I thought I recognized your drawl. I have relatives from that part of Texas. What kind of farm?”
“Wheat, mostly. Raised some cattle. ’Course, our horses pulled farm wagons. Not fancy carriages. But I’m thinking the mechanics are pretty much the same.”
“Bridget and her sister are fifth generation here in Mustang Valley.”
She smiled at her granddaughter, who was busy at the counter beating eggs in a bowl. He could see the love Emily had for her granddaughter, and his respect for the older woman increased. Ryan was close to his family, too.
“I’m the youngest of eight,” he said. “My parents had a lot of mouths to feed and shoes to buy. We all had to pitch in from an early age. I was harnessing a team by the time I was ten. Driving a tractor when I was eight. Riding horses since, well, I honestly don’t remember how old I was when I started riding.”
He noticed Bridget sneaking discreet peeks at him as if trying to hide her curiosity. It went both ways. He was curious about her, too, and sneaking peeks.
“Are your parents still in Texas?” Emily asked.
“They are. I’m trying to talk them into moving here after Dad retires. Not sure when that’ll be. He’s darn near seventy, and still putting in eight-hour days, every day of the week.”
“Sounds like you have an excellent work ethic that you come by honestly.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do, if I say so myself. I’m also right handy. There isn’t much I can’t fix or build or cobble together. If you’re needing some repairs done, I’m your man.”
“That’s generous of you to offer.” She sipped her coffee. “I’m afraid the hours aren’t regular. We perform weddings on any given day, including holidays. Most are on weekends, which means you’d probably work Friday through Sunday.”
“Not a problem.” Ryan finished off his fruit, remembering to take smaller bites. “My schedule’s flexible. And I have no place special to be on weekends.”
He caught Bridget casting him another quick glance. How had she interpreted his remark? That he was currently unattached? Well, he was. What about her?
Ryan hadn’t been in a serious relationship for some time and didn’t see it happening now or in the immediate future. Flipping horse properties didn’t allow him to remain in one place very long and most women he met wanted to put down roots. He occasionally dated when the right woman came along—one who was okay with a casual, hanging-out kind of relationship.
Unfortunately, Bridget struck him as a woman with deep, deep roots, being fifth generation and all. Yet another reason to rein in his enthusiasm. Plus, if he got the job she’d be his boss’s granddaughter. Darn if those “keep away” signs weren’t springing up one after the other.
“Starting tonight, we’re having regular hayrides,” Emily said. “In the evenings when the weather’s warm and in the afternoons during winter months. Right now, we’re limiting the hayrides to guests. If they go well, we might open them up to the public. There’s a cookout at the end of each ride.”
“Sounds great.” Ryan glanced at Bridget. She was probably responsible for the food.
“Perhaps you’d like to come along tonight,” Emily suggested.
He returned his attention to her. “I’d like that very much.” Was she offering him the job? He hesitated because he didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion.
“You can ride with Big Jim. He’s our part-time wrangler. Maybe come early and watch him harness the team.”
Ryan finished off his remaining croissant, using the last piece to mop up his strawberry jam. Emily didn’t seem to find him ill-mannered. If anything, she liked his enjoyment of her granddaughter’s food.
“How many horses do you have?” he asked.
“Five. Two for driving and three for trail rides. We’re planning on offering either sixty- or ninety-minute trail rides. Up to twice a day, one couple each ride.”
During their entire conversation, the sound of guests entering the parlor through the front door and helping themselves to the breakfast could be heard. Twice, Bridget carried out a tray or pitcher to replenish the food. In between, she sliced and chopped and mixed and diced.
“I suppose you’d like to know the pay,” Emily said.
The amount she named was fair. The perks were better. Besides breakfast every day, Ryan would get dinner at the cookouts and during any other function when a meal was served. Emily was hoping the ranch could eventually host nonwedding events, like family reunions and corporate parties.
There was also double time on holidays as well as paid sick and vacation days after six months. Altogether, considerably more than Ryan had expected.
If he had an inkling to stay past the sale of his latest ranch-flipping project, a job like this one—with growth potential—would be right up his alley. In the meantime, he’d work hard for the O’Malleys. Everything about the job appealed to him, including his coworkers. One in particular.
“I don’t like to assume, Emily, but are you officially offering me the job?”
She
