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tonight.” He carried his mug to the table. “I think the rest of the men are here.”
    “Holy shit, Auntie Em!” John McDaniels, one of the older hands, was staring at the table. “Did the food fairy pay us a visit?”
    “Just shut up and eat, John,” Wyatt said good-naturedly. “Stand there too long and someone else will get your share.”
    Again Emily kept the coffee mugs filled, the maple syrup warmed and plenty of butter and preserves on the table. She did her best to ignore their comments and not be offended at their suspicious attitude about who really prepared the food. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t earned their disbelief. But finally every bite was gone and they’d left to go back to work.
    Emily cleared the dishes from the table and stacked them in the dishwasher. She was scrubbing the pans when warm hands slid around her waist and a hot mouth brushed her beck beneath her ponytail.
    “I think this is where we started last night.” Wyatt’s voice was heavy with desire.
    But then he moved away from her. “I assume you’ve got lunch under control. Be ready about three o’clock and we’ll run into town. Maybe give you a chance to see your friends.” Then his lips were back, this time at her ear. “And after dinner I think we’ll find out just exactly what you’re up for, Emily Proctor.”
    Then he was gone, leaving her with soapy water, dirty pans, unsteady legs and a throbbing inside her like the insistent beat of a jungle drum.
    * * * * *
    Emily figured if she ignored the sacks of grain stacked along the wall, the abundance of ranch and farm equipment and the fact she had to change behind wooden crates of instruments, buying jeans at the feed store wasn’t that much different from buying them anyplace else. And Wyatt was right—they had two of the brands she was familiar with.
    33

    Desiree Holt
    Something to write in my diary about. If I ever decide to keep a diary.
    She would have been satisfied with one pair, nursing them along until she got her first paycheck, but Wyatt checked her size, then pulled three more pairs from a stack and pushed her gently toward a small section with t-shirts.
    “Nothing fancy,” he agreed, “but serviceable for the ranch.”
    “But I can’t afford all of this,” she protested, trying to put things back.
    “Call it a bonus for this morning’s breakfast.” He sighed. “Listen, Em. Your Vegas clothes are fine if you get into Austin or San Antonio but for Mesa Blanco and the Lazy Aces, you need to wear what everyone else does. Do us both a favor, pick out the t-shirts you like and let’s get out of here.”
    She sorted through the shirts while Wyatt placed a feed order with Avery Boland.
    The cattle fed mostly on hay, he’d told her, but he supplemented it with special natural mixtures that the hands drove out to big feeding tubs in the pastures. He’d also explained that he ordered special feed for the horses to keep them fit and healthy.
    “They get ridden hard,” he told her, “so they need the best we can give them.”
    She realized how very little she actually knew about ranching. Her knowledge was limited to movies and romance novels set in the West, and for the past four days she’d been so busy trying to keep afloat in the kitchen she hadn’t had time to check anything out or ask questions. Besides, she hoped her stay at the Lazy Aces would be short-lived.
    As soon as she and Lola and Roxie got enough cash together and got their car running they’d be off again for someplace not quite so godforsaken.
    She picked t-shirts that were all dark in color, hoping they would provide some camouflage for her breasts. Not that she was all that well-endowed, especially next to Roxie and Lola, but she didn’t want to give the hands the idea she might be tempting them in any way.
    Wyatt had also made time for her to check in with her friends. At Chaps, Roxie was just starting her shift. Emily was amazed to see her friend smiling and relaxed, even as she