Seventeen-year-old Chloe Matthews is done with guys, done with her ex, and done with the cowboys of the Grand Teton Mountains. She refuses to get hurt again.
All that matters now are the horses. Every horse Chloe helps is another piece of herself pu...
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* This is my vision of Jack! *
"I can't believe this," I said the next day as I set the phone down behind the café counter for the hundredth time.
Mom looked up from her budget sheet. "What?"
"That you hired Jack for starters," I said. "And not a single other ranch is hiring." I had to find another job, training horses. No more mucking. The pain in my left forearm had kept me up most of the night.
Mom frowned. "You already have a job."
"I can't work with him here and there. I don't want to work with him at all." The fact that Jack-the-Jerk had been right about the other ranches festered.
"Is he really that bad?" she asked. "He seemed very polite to me."
"He's the worst kind of arrogant, closed-minded idiot."
"Well, you might want to keep that job. The economy is slowing everything down."
"Economy, schmonomy." I scrolled down to the last horse ranch listing in the area.
Mom peeked over my shoulder. "Looks like you're going to have to make peace with the boss's son."
"Impossible." I clenched my teeth as I remembered his annoying sideways grin when he'd said I was 'slow as hell'. The thought of going back and working beneath his sarcastic, wandering gaze . . . Why had Mom hired him? Why did he have to be Mr. Hunter's son?
"Well." Mom nodded toward the back room. "You'd better get to grinding those beans. I'm expecting our first big crowd tonight." She practically danced toward the oven to check on her shortbread. I hoped she was right. Her budget sheet showed that we needed it.
A while later, I shut off the grinder to load more beans. The heavenly scent of Mom's brown sugar shortbread mingled with the coffee aroma. That would bring a crowd, not Jack. My last hope was that he'd be a total flop and there'd be no reason for him to come back.
I was just about to pour more beans into the grinder when I heard the strums of a guitar. And a soft, sultry voice. The coffee beans froze mid-air. I couldn't do anything but stand and listen. Mom must've been mistaken. That couldn't be Jack. I tiptoed out to the front counter.
Mom winked and leaned toward me. "Told you he was amazing."
"I. Hate. Him." My eyes narrowed at the phony looking like a country star in his dark blue button-down shirt and black hat.
"We need this, Chloe." Mom groaned at the ceiling. "Our bottom line."
"There must be someone else in this town who can sing." But people were already stopping outside our front doors to watch and listen.
Mom patted my shoulder. "You won't have to deal with him. Tara and I will take care of everything. But he's gonna make us some money," she said in a sing-song voice.
