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She pulls back but holds me by my upper arms. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m Darla.”
I smile. “Okay.”
“No, say it,” she says, lightly squeezing my arms. “Come on now.”
“Darla. Thanks for giving me this opportunity.”
She releases me, and the anxiety catapulting inside me lessens until she pulls me into her chest again.
She’s gorgeous, with dark hair and green eyes that hold so much warmth and love.
“We’re so happy to have you.” She finally stops hugging me and keeps her hands to herself. “Come on, let’s go see Jensen in the kitchen. Did you eat this morning?”
“I had a smoothie,” I say. It’s the truth, but in reality, I was only able to swallow a few mouthfuls before I started to feel sick.
“A smoothie?” She tsks. “You kids. You need more than that to sustain your day.”
I follow her through the building, past a set of curious eyes from behind the front desk.
“No wonder there’s nothing to you. I wish I could offer you a few of my pounds, but Mr. Owens…” She stops before a swinging door and eyes me. “Brad to you. He likes me with a little extra to hold on to.” She laughs and walks through the door.
The kitchen is amazing, and I’d never guess it was attached to a lodge. Stainless steel is everywhere, and there are a few people walking around, each one in a white coat.
“Jensen!” Darla hollers and weaves through the chaos that looks like the breakfast rush. She pats one guy on the back as she passes. “Good morning, Hayes.”
“Mornin’, Darla.” The blond-haired guy smiles, and his eyes linger on me for a beat before he goes back to his station.
I hate being the newbie.
“Grandma!” A little girl runs over, and Darla opens her arms wide to receive her. She’s cute with dirty-blonde hair in braids, although they’re slightly crooked in the back, with a zigzag part down the middle.
“Wren, what are you doing in the kitchen?” Darla asks.
“Wren!” a man shouts into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, did everyone forget that this is my workspace?” a guy wiping down the edges of the plates says.
“She saw Mom and got away from me.” The man who yelled for the little girl stops when he sees me. “Briar Adams?”
“Yep, she’s all grown up.” Darla picks up the little girl, and her long legs swing over her grandma’s hips.
“Hi, Bennett,” I say. “And Wren.” I put my hand out to the little girl.
Gillian practically gave me a quiz on who’s who on the ranch. Although I went to high school with all of them, they’re all older than me, so I wasn’t sure they’d remember me.
“You have pretty hair,” the little girl says.
“So do you.”
“Daddy can’t do my hair.” Her eyes fixate on my side braid that was about all I could manage this morning.
“If you’d sit still.” Bennett shakes his head at me and smiles.
If I have my math right, Bennett is the same age as Emmett. People always asked why their moms would give them names that sound the same when they’re so close in age and cousins.
“He can’t even do a ponytail. Will you do my hair?” Wren tugs one of her ponytail holders off the end of her braid.
“Wren, you have school,” Bennett says.
