Sally glanced at the woman who sat among the group of men. She had not noticed her when she came in; she must have been distracted by the restaurant bookkeeping when the woman arrived. Sally noticed that the woman's black hair complemented and accentuated the overall care and confidence in the woman's presence. That presence held her. Sally's eyes then drifted to the woman's clothes, and she found herself almost chuckling as she noticed the sharp creases in the woman's shirt and blue jeans. She'd never known anyone who starched and ironed their work clothes that way. She looked beneath the table, and her eyes followed the firm muscled leg encased in the blue cloth and noticed the polished combat boots protruding from the pant legs. That was another surprise.

 Sally glanced at the men and compared their worn, scuffed, and mud-covered boots. That's what Sally was used to in the farming country. Men in their cleanest dirty shirt, worn wrinkled jeans, and dirty boots. A properly disheveled lot who looked like they never went home from their tasks. The woman was a sharp but not unpleasant contrast.

 Sally knew how to read the men who were applying for the temporary position. She was used to male farmhands. Their wives usually worked the orchards while the men did all the heavy, equipment-related work. It was a separation of labor she'd never questioned. Until now. She was comfortable and used to traditional farm operations and occupational preferences. A female mechanic applicant was an uncharted experience, and she did not know what to expect.

 Sally was smiling at her own puzzlement when the other woman looked up, catching her eyes. The woman observed Sally with a steady, unwavering gaze. The openness of the gaze caught Sally by surprise. Amusement and a sudden coquettish flush overtook her as the woman leaned back in her chair, squared her shoulders, and fetchingly returned the smile. Butterflies launched themselves as Sally recognized a darting awareness rush from the base of her spine to the top of her head.

 Under the woman's steady gaze, Sally's smile vanished in bewilderment, and Sally quickly turned her attention back to the paperwork in front of her. Unaccountably she wanted a drink, something to wet the sudden dryness of her mouth. She wanted something more than the coffee that languished in front of her.

 It had been a simple friendly gesture. She assured herself there was nothing of consequence, no need to wonder at the meaning or intent behind those dark eyes. A friendly gesture of shared self-assurance, Sally rationalized. There was a position to be filled. The best person for the job would have to replace her laid-up mechanic and be straw boss to the hands. Whoever got the job, Sally silently asserted, had to be reliable and competent, and this was certainly not the time for partiality, preconceptions, or deceptive musings.

 Over the course of the next two hours, Sally interviewed the prospective hired hands in the order in which they had arrived. She asked general questions, asked for accounts of previous employment, and asked the reasons for departure from the last job. Each man left with Sally's promise to contact him later with a decision, although she had not been impressed with the results of the first three interviews. She had little hope for the day and a sinking feeling about the complexity of work that she was going to be facing if she could not find a good hand. Then the last man left. As nonchalantly as possible, Sally poured herself another cup of coffee and waved the woman over to the table.

 The woman approached, and Sally stretched out her hand in offer of introduction. "My name is Sally Windrow, Miss … Miss Jeager," Sally said as she glanced at the name on the application again.

 "Jeager, just Jeager. If you don't mind. Or Nicole. Or Sergeant. Anything but Miss. I haven't been called Miss since I was eighteen. And I rarely miss a thing," Nicole said, taking Sally's offered hand firmly into her own.

 "As you wish," Sally remarked as she felt the firm, callused grip and long fingers wrap around her outreached hand. The clasp lingered only a second, but Sally felt the tingling warmth long after the introduction had ended.

 "Please, sit down," Sally said finally, noticing that Nicole was still standing.

Buy this e-book!