I do like my office, it's great, and that day I was especially glad for the way it was laid out. I could step out of the office and immediately be with the horses or remain inside and watch through the huge windows on that side. Or I could make a half turn and look through the window wall opposite and be staring into the depths of the forest that had been my home since birth. No matter where they were, I could keep an eye on Carlos and our new employee without them knowing that I was spying on them.
But my work had been long neglected because of Carlos' broken leg so, instead of spying on the new hire as I'd planned, I spent hours moving piles of papers from one side of my desk to the other as I dealt with them. When I finally came up for air and looked outside, I saw Max in the corral with Carlos. He was working hard, stopping now and then to shake sweat from his eyes and work the stiffness from his shoulders. I liked the way he moved. Like a dancer. Or an athlete. Or a soldier.
As I watched, he grabbed a shovel and, under Carlos' supervision, removed a recent pile of manure from the corral and I found myself smiling. Because even when hauling manure, there was grace in his movements.
As I stood with my arms crossed and watched, they headed for the nearest building. Or buildings, because Green Forest Stables consists of several buildings connected to make moving from one to another easier in the winter when the snow piles many feet deep. Most visitors think it's one huge building, but it isn't. Now I glanced at the clock and was surprised at how late it was. Time for lunch.
Green Forest Stables provides lunch for all employees, a perk of the job that's necessary miles from the nearest cafe, in a lovely, comfortable break room. But I wasn't ready to deal with the questions a new employee might ask because I still wasn't sure I could talk with him like a boss should talk with an employee. So I decided to make a sandwich and eat at my desk.
Carlos' eyebrows rose as I slapped together lunchmeat and bread but he said nothing and, back in the office, I swallowed the sandwich, gulped a glass of milk, grabbed the top paper on the pile, and then continued on where I'd left off.
But in the back of my mind, even as I worked, was a picture of Maxwell Abrams as he'd paused in the doorway to the kitchen before entering, the sun at his back, a dark, purely masculine silhouette. Then he'd shut the door and the silhouette had turned into reality, complete with color and warmth and flesh and blood. And hazel eyes that saw everything, even me, and knew why I was eating in the office.
Hours later, finished for the day, almost caught up and ready to deal with the future, I turned to the paperwork Maxwell Abrams' employment necessitated. Unemployment taxes. IRS filings. Things I'd never had to deal with before because we'd never had an employee long enough to have to fill them out. I looked around. I had a book somewhere. I'd find it tomorrow, along with all those forms I'd never used before.
I went outside. Time to let our new employee know I wasn't intimidated by him. Not even a little bit. I found Carlos limping and trying to hide it. My eyes met those of Max Abrams and it was clear that he too was concerned about the elderly man. Knowing Carlos, I was pretty sure he'd tried to do everything but Max hadn't let him. Because I was right and he had a way with old men? But all Max said out loud was, "I don't have anything planned for this evening. I can work late." His eyes burned into mine and I knew why he made the offer.
"Did Carlos mention there are rooms over the office for employees? You can stay overnight if you wish. Or live here."
"He told me."
"Carlos lives here and so do I."
His eyes widened warily. "How late do you two normally work?"
"As late as necessary." Long hours that might make anyone wary of working here and we needed this man. Not only could he do the work, Carlos liked him. "We pay by the hour. Decent wages. Free room and board. And with Carlos laid up, there will be extra hours."
He nodded, eyes sweeping me from head to toe but not giving away his thoughts. "I'm okay with long hours."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "The horses need to be bedded down."
A smile ghosted across his face, the first I'd seen. It changed him. "So I come early and leave late?"
"Or live here. Work doesn't end until the horses are in their stalls for the night." How many nights had we stayed up all night with a sick horse? "And sometimes not then." I fought against getting all confrontational because this was the first thing previous employees and I had fought over. Long hours. I'd always won the arguments and they'd always quit upon learning how much work the job entailed.
"Sounds like living here is most practical." He pulled his hat low over his brow to hide what I suspected was a grin. How'd he know what I'd been thinking? This new employee was spooky the way he could read minds. Then we headed for the stable where we worked until full dark with Carlos supervising from a chair. We stopped when it was so dark outside that we couldn't see our hands in front of our faces. But the horses were settled for the night