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girl.”
    She smiled. “I am a city girl. It’s for Rebecca. She’s crazy about horses. I was hoping maybe somebody around here could give her lessons.”
    “I don’t know anybody who gives riding lessons, exactly, but if Rebecca wants to ride, you should talk to Jack.”
    “To Jack? Why?”
    “He runs a vacation farm, or what some people call a dude ranch. He’s got several horses he uses for trail rides. If it’s horses you want, Jack’s your man.”
    “I can’t pay much. Do you know how much he charges?”
    Gavin shrugged. “He doesn’t usually give lessons and the trail rides are only for guests. All I know is that he charges people from the city an arm and a leg for the privilege of shoveling manure in the barns. You’d have to ask Jack.”
    “She’d have to ask Jack what?”
    Bridget glanced over her shoulder to see Jack standing next to the table, a pool cue in one hand. She got to her feet.
    “It’s nothing really.” What was the point in even asking? She couldn’t afford riding lessons even if he were willing to teach Rebecca. She’d struggled to pay for lessons in San Francisco when she’d actually had money. She picked up her tray and began to move away. He put a hand on her arm, stopping her.
    “You can tell me. After all, I told you about my secret fetish for Bozo the Clown.”
    Gavin’s beer stopped halfway to his mouth. “What?”
    Jack winked at Bridget before grinning at his brother. “Just a joke. Relax.”
    Gavin shook his head and concentrated on his beer once more. Jack took his seat and pulled another chair over for Bridget. She sat and took a deep breath.
    “My daughter loves to ride. Gavin tells me you have several horses and I was hoping she could take a few lessons.”
    “How much experience does she have?” Jack asked.
    “She took lessons for about three years. I don’t really know anything about riding, but her instructor told me she had a good seat. I assume she wasn’t talking about Rebecca’s anatomy.”
    He chuckled and raised his beer to his lips, drinking deeply. She watched as his long, tapered fingers wrapped around the bottle. His hands and arms were bronzed from the sun, the biceps well-muscled. Jack was still a very handsome man. She looked away, remembering the feel of his arms around her.
    Why couldn’t he be bald and have a paunch?
    “The thing is, I don’t have much money. Actually, I don’t have any money. I was hoping to work out some kind of trade, maybe house cleaning in exchange for some lessons.”
    He gazed at her intently for a few moments before setting his beer on the table as if he’d come to some sort of decision. “You’re a chef, right? Celia said you managed your own catering company.”
    Her stomach tightened. “I used to. Like I said, the business went under.”
    “But you can still cook?”
    “I make blueberry pancakes for Rebecca every morning.” She didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. “What does my cooking have to do with riding lessons?”
    “If it’s a trade you want to work out, I have a proposition for you. I’ve got a delegation of German tourist operators coming to look over the ranch to see if we’re someplace they would recommend to their clients. Unfortunately the timing coincides with my cook’s daughter’s wedding. I promised her the time off and I’m not about to go back on my word. But it leaves me with the problem of not being able to provide my guests with the kind of food we would normally serve at the ranch. I’d hoped to serve them lunch. That’s where you come in.”
    For a second Bridget thought she’d be sick. He was asking her to cater an important meeting. The thought of being responsible for the well-being of Jack’s guests, not to mention the success of his business, made her want to sprint out the door.
    “I’m hoping if we get enough business from German tourists, we could extend our season a little longer and maybe hire more people from the community.