Page 15 of Wyoming Tough

He cocked his head. “What movie?”

“That cartoon one, about the chameleon. The lizard Western.”

“Actually, that one’s pretty good. I would have thought he’d prefer the werewolf movie, though.”

She shifted in her chair. “That’s the first one he suggested. I don’t like gore. The reviewers said it had some in it, and it got bad reviews.”

“You believe reviewers know what they’re talking about?” he queried with a twinkle in his eyes. “They don’t buy books or movie tickets, you know. They’re just average people with average opinions. One opinion doesn’t make or break a sale in the entertainment business.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“I don’t read reviews. I look at what a book is about, or a movie, and make up my own mind whether to read it or see it in a theater. In fact, the werewolf movie had exquisite cinematography and some of the best CGI I’ve seen in a long time. I liked it, especially that gorgeous blonde girl in that red, red cape in the white, snowy background,” he recalled. “Film reviewers. What do they know?” he scoffed.

“Opinionated, is what he is,” Mavie said from beside them, where she sat peeling apples. “And it was Bill Duvall who told you about the Corrie girl. He’s sweet on her and she doesn’t like Clark, so you take that into account when you hear the story.” She looked down at her hands working on an apple. “Nothing wrong with Clark, except he’s flighty. You don’t understand flighty, because all three of you are rock-solid sort of people, full of opinions and attitude.”

Mallory let out a short laugh as he sipped coffee. “I don’t have an attitude.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” the housekeeper shot back.

He shrugged. “Maybe I do.” He glanced at Morie and his eyes narrowed. “You take your cell phone with you, and if Clark gets out of hand, you call. Got that?”

“Oh…okay.” It was like being back at home. He sounded just like her dad did when she’d dated a boy he didn’t know in high school. “He wanted to take me to the movies on Saturday, but I’m supposed to be watching calving….”

“I’ll get one of the part-timers to come in and cover for you. This time,” he added curtly. “Don’t expect concessions. We can’t afford them.”

She flushed. “Yes, sir. Thanks.”

“She’s over twenty-one, boss,” Mavie said drily.

“She works for me,” he replied. “I’m responsible for every hire I’ve got. Some more than others.” He looked pointedly at Morie, and he didn’t look away.

It was like being caught by a live wire when she met that searching stare. Her heart kicked into high gear. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt the intensity of the look right down to her toes. She’d never felt such a surge of pleasure in her whole life.

Mallory appeared to forcibly drag his eyes away. He sipped coffee. “Well, you can go, but you be careful. I still think he’s a risk. But it’s your life.”

“Yes, it is,” she replied. Her throat felt tight, and she was flushed. She got to her feet. “Thanks for the coffee,” she told the housekeeper. “It’s time for me to get to work.”

“Don’t fall in the dipping pool,” Mallory said with a straight face, but his dark eyes twinkled in a way that was new and exciting.

“Yes, sir, boss,” she replied. She smiled and turned to move quickly out of the room before she embarrassed herself by staring at him. She wondered how she was going to conceal the sudden new delight she got from looking at her boss.

SHE HAD A NICE PAIR OF SLACKSand a pink-and-lime embroidered sweater. She wore those for her date, and let her long hair down. She brushed it until it shone. It was thick and black and beautiful, like her mother’s. When she looked in the mirror, she saw many traces of her mother in her own face. She wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t plain, either. She had the same elfin features that had taken Shelby Kane Brannt to such fame in her modeling days. And Morie’s grandmother, Maria Kane, had been a motion-picture star, quite famous for her acting ability. Morie hadn’t inherited that trait. Her one taste of theater in college had convinced her that she was never meant for the stage.

She had a lightweight denim coat, and she wore that over her sweater, because it was cold outside. The weather was fluctuating madly. Typical Wyoming weather, she thought amusedly. The Texas climate was like that, too.

She heard a car drive up to the bunkhouse. She whipped her fanny pack into place and went out to meet Clark. He was sitting behind the wheel of the sports car, grinning.

She noted that he didn’t get out to open her door. He leaned across and threw it open for her.

She climbed in. “Hi.”

“Hi, back. Ready for a nice movie?”

“You bet.”

He put the car in gear and roared out down the driveway.

“Don’t do that,” she groaned. “We have heifers calving in the barn!”

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