The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(10)

“You just worry about making Aunt Polly happy,” she said. “And Sawyer isn’t here. It’s so boring, we sure don’t need two of us to take care of the place. He’s out making sure the fences are mended from yesterday and that things are quiet on the ranch. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little store, Aunt Gladys, but I promise if there’s a problem, I’ll call you.”

“Just ring up sales and take their money or put their charge tickets in the little box under the counter. They’re listed alphabetically. Best way to learn to swim is to jump headfirst in the water,” Gladys said.

“I’m not so sure I know about the meat sales, though,” Jill said.

“There’s a scale and a calculator back there. Prices are on the front of the glass as well as taped to the wall by the scale. I made up enough last evening to last all day, and the shelves are stocked and dusted. If you get hungry, make yourself a sandwich. There’s an open loaf of bread beside the scales, and you can get ham or bologna and cheese from the refrigerator. Help yourself. Quittin’ time is five o’clock.”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Gladys. I can take care of this.”

“I’m glad you arrived when you did,” Gladys said.

Jill wasn’t used to being still. From before daylight to dark she’d had something to do, none of which required sitting in a chair behind a counter. She turned the chair so she could see out the window. A squirrel with a fluffy red tail scampered across the road, scaled the single gas pump like it was a tree, and perched on the top.

“King of the mountain.” Jill smiled.

A truck went by and spooked her entertainment. He made a flying leap and hit a drooping branch on the pecan tree at the corner of the store. In seconds he’d disappeared into the limbs, probably to scramble on to another tree and another, until he felt safe enough to come down to the ground again.

Then there was nothing but a small store with three aisles, a refrigerated section on one side, and a freezer on the other. Meat counter at the back, checkout counter with an old cash register at the front, and a few newspapers left over from the week before.

She read though one in less than ten minutes, then riffled through the magazines under the counter. The newest one was dated two years before and had nothing on the front to entice her to go further. On Monday she’d bring a big thick romance book with a bare-chested cowboy on the front.

An hour passed before a truck pulled up to the front of the store. She glanced at the clock: it was well past noon, so he was late. Sawyer got out, shook the legs of his jeans down over the top of his boots, tucked his gloved hands into the pockets of his mustard-colored work coat, and jogged to the porch. She jumped up so fast, the chair fell over backward. By the time she’d righted it, he was in the store.

“Hey, it’s damn cold out there,” he said.

“I’d rather be out there than sitting in here bored to death,” she told him.

“You’d change your mind pretty quick. I drove all around the ranch. Got out and walked a few times so I could get a feel for the land. Fences look good for now. There’s a couple of old wood posts that need to be replaced with metal ones, but that can wait until spring.”

He paused and looked around the store. “Looks slow in here.”

“Boring.” She drug out the word into half a dozen syllables.

He removed his coat and hung it on the rack beside hers. “Let’s do our shopping then. Gladys said I could put whatever I buy here on a ticket, and she’d take it out of my monthly paycheck.”

She motioned toward the line of five carts. “Help yourself. How many head of cattle is Aunt Gladys running now?”

“Looks to be about a hundred and fifty, but the ranch has good fertile ground. It would support twice that many, especially if we cleared the mesquite off the west side and put it into hay this spring. Figured I’d get out the chain saw and go to work on it next week. The wood will keep us warm, and we can stack up what we don’t use for next winter.”

She pulled the next cart out and followed him. “You can take my food back to the bunkhouse with you.”

He stopped and turned around to face her, the empty cart between them. “Is that an order or a request?”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Please, kind sir, would you take my groceries home for me? I’ll keep the perishables in one bag, and you can set the whole thing in the refrigerator, and I’ll put everything away when I get there.”

“You aren’t very good at that,” he said.

“What? Asking or flirting?”

He cocked his head off to the side in that sexy little gesture that tightened up her gut. “Fake flirting. But yes, ma’am, I’ll…hey, how are you going to get home anyway? You don’t have a vehicle here.”

She shrugged. “I’ll walk. Believe me, after all afternoon in this boredom, I’ll be ready to walk all the way to the river, not just to the bunkhouse.”

He put two cans of green beans into his cart and added a couple of cans of corn. “I need both. I’m making a pot of soup and one of chili this afternoon. That will last several days and taste good in cold weather.”

She picked up a container of cocoa, a bag of flour, and one of sugar, and put them into her cart.

“I thought you didn’t cook,” he said.