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Clint shook his head in wonder. He had a bunkhouse full of groupies. “I have no idea.”
“Jed thinks yes, but Denny, who considers himself the expert on redheads because he is one, says it’s not real because she has brown eyes. Not too many true redheads have brown eyes. Me, I wouldn’t care either way.”
“I think the red’s real.” The words were out before Clint could stop them. His brain had quickly assessed her fair skin and the trace of freckles under her professionally applied makeup and had come up with the true-redhead verdict, which had then popped out of his mouth with no warning whatsoever.
“I think you’re right,” José said. “And no boyfriend. What a waste.”
“How do you know there’s no boyfriend?”
“She’s always talking on the show about not having dates. Me and the guys, we’ve joked about taking up a collection so one of us could fly up there and ask her out. Not that she would go. She probably doesn’t have dates because she’s picky.”
“I can’t believe she doesn’t have dates.” Clint pictured a new guy every week, who was then discarded like food gone stale in her refrigerator.
José shrugged. “That’s what she says on the show. Mel’s always teasing her about it. Maybe it’s because guys are afraid to ask her out. That’s what Denny thinks.”
“Well, yeah. Who wants to end up in the tabloids?”
“That’s what Denny says. She got famous so quick, and any guy who dates her has to know it wouldn’t be a private deal for very long.”
Clint gazed out the kitchen window and thought about that. For all Meg’s taunting comments about liking to get into trouble, she hadn’t gotten into much trouble at all since becoming a celebrity. If she had, it would be all over the rags in the grocery-store checkout line.
Maybe she’d been too focused on her career to bother with dating. He’d caught a whiff of naked ambition during their conversation on the front porch. But he wondered if she also might be a little bit lonely, a little bit frustrated. Now there was a stimulating thought.
And he needed to avoid that kind of thinking, considering they’d be alone in the house tonight.
“Uh, boss?” José waved a hand in front of Clint’s eyes. “Is it still okay if I go out and meet her?”
Clint snapped out of his daze. “Of course it’s okay. I specifically came back here to get you and bring you out there.”
“I know, but when I asked you just now, you just stared off into space and didn’t say anything, so I wondered if you’d changed your mind. Don’t worry. I promise not to do anything stupid like ask her out.” José looked suddenly shy. “But I sure would like her autograph.”
“Then you’d better take something for her to write on.”
“I have something.” José held up a pot holder that looked fresh out of the box. “Bought it at the convenience store today.”
“Why a pot holder?”
“Because it’ll prove she ate my food. I can hang it up in the kitchen.” He looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he described his plan.
Clint hated to admit he understood how José felt. Come to think of it, after watching her once on TV, he’d had to fight the urge to do it again the next morning. Just because she was here for an idiotic reason didn’t cancel out her sex appeal, although he’d worked hard to stay immune. The immunity was wearing off fast, unfortunately.
“Then let’s go,” he said.
“Let me get the place settings. That’s what I thought of while we were talking. I’ll take out place mats, napkins and silverware for the coffee table. Then I have a reason for going out there.”
Clint waited for José to grab a couple of straw place mats, knives, forks, spoons and two red cloth napkins. They hadn’t used cloth napkins since before his mother died, but he guessed this was occasion enough.
He wondered what his folks would have thought of Meg. To his surprise, he decided they would have liked her. In spite of coming from an entirely different background, she obviously had the same strong work ethic his parents had valued. She wouldn’t be where she was without that.
“All set.” José tucked the place mats and napkins under his arm, clutched the silverware in one hand and the pot holder and pen in the other. He took a deep breath, and his dark eyes sparkled. “Lead the way, boss.”
Clint headed for the living room, followed by José. Their discussion in the kitchen had given him a whole new perspective on Meg’s presence here. He hadn’t realized he was giving his employees the thrill of a lifetime. He’d only been concerned about turning his beloved ranch into a joke. He still didn’t like that part of it, but maybe some good would come out of this episode, after all.
MEG COULDN’T IMAGINE why it was taking Clint so long to bring his cook out of the kitchen to meet her. She’d picked up a copy of Western Horseman lying on the coffee table and was pretending to read it as she strained to hear what the two men were saying, but they kept their voices low. At one point she heard the word hot very distinctly, but without context she didn’t know if they were talking about food or her.
She couldn’t assume they were talking about her. That was a very self-centered view of life, and she’d promised herself from the beginning that if she ever made it, she wouldn’t become self-centered. But realistically, what else would they be talking about, especially in such hushed tones?
And if the word hot had been in reference to her, then they were in there debating her babe status. At least Clint wasn’t laughing hysterically at the idea that she was hot. That meant she wouldn’t embarrass herself if she decided to make a move on him.
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