I've put a jug of water on the table, but Scott rises from his seat and returns with five bottles of beer. "Where's mine?" I ask after he's handed them around.
"You old enough to drink?"
"I'm legal," I say.
Colt sniggers, and Cash shoots him a disgusted look. "Get the girl a beer," he orders his brother. "She deserves it."
With another scowl, Scott retrieves me a cool glass bottle, and I drain it quickly, not to prove my drinking prowess but because this has been a busy day and I'm parched. When I place the bottle on the table, I find five sets of eyebrows raised.
"What?" I shrug and fork a piece of chicken, bringing it to my mouth and chewing nonchalantly.
Cash shakes his head, his eyes moving slowly from brother to brother. "Holden called me today."
"Really," Cary says. "How are they?"
"Good." Cash, I'm realizing, is a man of few words.
"What did he want?" Sawyer asks.
"They invited us over on Sunday."
Scott shakes his head. "We don't have time to take a whole day off driving for hours and socializing."
Cash nods. "That's why I told them to come here."
"Here?" It would seem that Scott is totally against the idea of entertaining whoever Holden is.
"Melanie can prepare a meal. We can work in the morning and maybe after they leave. I don't imagine they'll stay too long. They have the new baby."
"How many more will I be cooking for?" I ask.
"Five," Cash replies.
"Five? So, two adults, two children, and a baby?" I'm half nosy and half calculating volumes of food required.
"Five adults. The baby is too young to eat."
I raise my eyebrows. Five adults. "Holden's our cousin," Cary explains. "He has three brothers…and they're all in a…"
Cash clears his throat. "They'll be here at one o'clock. We can eat out back."
I haven't had a chance to explore the area around the house yet, but I will tomorrow. I need to be sure of the setup, so I know whether to make food we can eat at a table or food to be eaten more casually. And why on earth did Cash cut his brother off mid-sentence? There's something strange going on here, but how do I get to the bottom of it? Maybe, if I get Cary alone, he'll share what Cash didn't want him to discuss in front of me.
Conversation dries up while the men wolf their food down, wiping their plates clean with the bread. I eat a good portion, too, knowing there could come a time soon when I might not have access to such a nutritious meal.
"Thank you," Cary says. "That was something really special."
"You're talking like you never ate chicken before," Scott laughs, but it's not a nice laugh. It's a laugh tinged with ridicule.
"I haven't eaten chicken that good since…"
Cash clears his throat again. "You've more than proved yourself, Melanie. Forget the week trial. Would you stay?"
I shrug. "Let's keep the week trial. I need to make sure that this is a place I want to be and that you're the men I want to work for. It's easier for me to prove my capabilities. It's hard for you to prove your worth."
Scott laughs again, and Cash shoots him a look that could wither a crop like a drought. "That's fine," he says. "I understand what you're saying, and I don't doubt that me and my brothers will show you that this is a good place to work over the next six days. Won't we?"
The Bradford brothers all nod except Scott, whose midnight eyes find mine with a challenge. I cock my head to the side, shaking it and smirking. Does he seriously think I've never come across a man with a chip on his shoulder? Half the working men at our farm had a sorry story to tell and enough anger buried inside about it to turn any sky stormy. This man has something against me, but it's not personal. Most likely, he's had a problem with his momma, or a girl broke his heart. Now he can't see the female form without associating that hurt. Little boys sulk when their toys break. He needs to learn that one broken toy doesn't mean a lifetime of broken toys.
"Well, that's settled then. You guys can all go sit down in the den while I finish up here. Then I'm going to head to bed. Oh, and you'll need to eat cereal tomorrow. We're out of bread."
They all rise, taking their plates to the counter. As everyone else leaves the room, Cary stays. "Let me help you with all of this," he says.
"I'm good. This is what you're paying me for." The water runs cold for a while, so I wait for it to heat. While I do, Cary clears the table, putting the leftovers into a dish and covering it with plastic wrap. I start to wash the dishes, expecting him to leave, but he searches out a dishtowel and dries up.