Page 22 of Dandelion Sighs

“An IT job? Or more ranching?”

“Anything that has a paycheck and retirement. Unless I want to go into mining or oil, and I don’t.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t brush off my question. My appreciation for him grew. Thanks to how he was with me at work—respectful—the rest of the staff seemed to follow his lead. Even Constance was less snide, like she wanted his approval. Whatever. I’d take it.

“If I got a job at the refinery, I’d be working for my brother. Violet doesn’t mind, but I’d like to get work without nepotism.”

He was a man with pride. I respected that. Yet he was limiting himself a lot.

“As for the ranching, I don’t know. Gets tiring making money for someone else.” When I started nodding, he tipped his head toward me. “Unless it’s a distraught resort owner who wants to save her family’s legacy to keep everyone employed and bring tourists out to enjoy our gem of a state.”

Warmth flowed through me, soft and seductive. How did he plainly state my reality without making me feel like “less than”? I liked that. Almost as much as I enjoyed this night. Which was a lot.

It was getting to be too much. The sun was sinking, and if I stayed longer, it would look more like I was here for something other than an appreciation meal. Jasper might think I wanted more, and like he said, we were each in town for our own specific reasons.

“I should get going.” I pushed out of the chair before he said anything to change my mind.

“Sounds good.” He rose too.

Oh. He wasn’t going to talk me into staying. Why would I think he would? This wasn’t a date. He felt like he owed me. “Okay. Um, thanks for everything.”

I made my way to the door. Act casual. Instead of looking back, I breezed out onto the front stoop and onto the walk. Only then did I turn. He was on the step, the screen door closed to keep bugs from getting into the house.

He aimed the nicest smile my way. “Good night, boss.”

I needed the reminder. “Good night, Jasper.”

Chapter Seven

Sheridan

I sat at my desk Saturday morning and stared at my calendar. The dinner Jasper insisted he owed me somehow morphed into a night at Reservoir Barrel this Friday night. Having something to look forward to—two somethings—was taking my mind off the drama at work.

As if I summoned said drama, Constance charged in. “You need to fire the new guy.”

“Jasper?” No the hell I wouldn’t. My visceral reaction nearly shocked me. I sat straight up, my spine a steel rod, and glared at her.

She reared back. “No. He’s amazing. That firepit work…” Her eyes turned dreamy a second before they hardened to steel. “Landon.”

“The kid who helps with yard work?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “He walked down the hallway of the guest wing.” She planted her hands on her hips.

“Okay?”

She stabbed a finger to the window. “It’s raining. It’s muddy. His shoes were dirty.”

My stomach dropped. I could picture a seventeen-year-old’s large footprints tracking down our nice brown carpet. “How bad?”

“He’d been working in the flower beds.”

“In the rain?”

“His mom said it’s easier to pull weeds when the soil’s wet.”

My mom used to love drizzle. She’d rush out and weed as much as she could. But it wasn’t a light sprinkle. Rain battered at the glass. A groan slipped out.