A laugh that sounded a little bit like a growl emerged from deep in his chest. “I’m always hungry.”
Well, duh. She should have guessed that. Put fur on the guy and he could probably pass for Bigfoot. Of course he was hungry.
“I hope I packed enough.”
His right brow arched and the strained half grin returned.
She was already blushing, but now heat rushed to her face and spread to her cheeks like a wildfire. Had she just said those words out loud?
Open mouth, insert foot. Way to go, Faith. Insult the man ten seconds after meeting him.
She quickly tried to recover, feeling as if she were scrambling backward as she stammered her way through her sentence. “Oh, n-no. That’s not what I intended to say. My words didn’t come out right at all. I—I only meant—”
He held up one large work-calloused hand to stem the flow of her sputtering words. “It’s okay, ma’am. Whatever you’ve brought will be just fine, I’m sure. I’m not a difficult man to please.”
“Please call me Faith,” she urged, brushing her suddenly sweaty palms against the denim of her designer skinny jeans.
Acquiring new, more practical boot-cut jeans was on her priority list of things to do now that she was finally here in Serendipity. And as much as she loved her Jimmy Choos, her good pair of cowboy boots would have been much more sensible for the occasion. She was practically aerating the park grass with her three-inch spikes.
“Faith,” he repeated, his rich, lyrical voice making her name sound like a musical note. “I’m Jax McKenna, and apparently I am at your service.”
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Jax.” She held out her hand and he dwarfed it in his own. Again she had the impression of hard work and calluses, a complete contrast to her own lotion-softened, office-cubicle working hands.
That will change. Soon.
She’d spent the last few years working in accounting for a non-profit organization to save up the money for her horse sanctuary. Mere months from now she hoped and prayed that her palms would likewise carry the blisters of hard country labor. She could barely wait for that day, anticipating it like a child would Christmas morning. She was a city girl with a country heart.
“Here we are,” she said, gesturing to a rather plain-looking brown wicker basket lingering next to the trunk of an oak, shaded from the glare of the sun by the old tree’s branches. As she looked around at the other baskets dotting the lawn, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed. Her own meager offering looked so bare and ordinary next to the others. Many of the women had decorated their baskets with colorful plumes and ribbons. She wished she’d thought of that—especially because the man she’d be sharing a meal with looked as if he could use a few kindhearted gestures. But on the other hand, he didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d really be comfortable with something dolled up and fancy. Maybe plain was best, after all.
Without speaking, Jax crouched over the basket, withdrawing a blue-checked plastic tablecloth that had been the best Faith could do under the circumstances. She’d arrived in Serendipity only two days ago and hadn’t learned of the auction until the day prior.
How she’d come to bet on this particular tall, sturdy cowboy was a mystery even to her. It was nothing more than a gut feeling, but she’d learned over the years to follow those silent promptings.
Thankfully, the man with the rooster voice had stopped singing, but the crowd was still hooting and hollering in the background. Jax didn’t seem to notice, nor, apparently, did he want to wait for the rest of the town to finish with the auction before he and Faith started on their picnic.
He spread the tablecloth across the grass and gestured for her to sit. Then he pulled out plates and silverware and popped the top of a cola can before offering it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, dropping onto the far corner of the plastic and folding her legs under her. “Although I feel like I ought to be doing the serving,” she said as he inspected the club sandwiches she’d made for the occasion. At least she’d used foot-long sub buns and loaded the sandwiches with meat, cheese and veggies. Dagwood would be proud of her creation.
Jax glanced up at her, and the unscarred side of his lips curled upward. Close to a smile, at any rate. Faith would take it.
“You paid for my time,” he reminded her. “I figured now is as good a time as any to start working off my—” He paused and bent his head as he considered how best to finish the sentence.
“Community service?” she suggested, chuckling at the double meaning.
“Yeah. That.” He wasn’t laughing.
“I—uh—okay, right,” she stammered. She didn’t usually stutter like a schoolgirl with her first crush. If she didn’t get a hold of her tongue soon, he would think he was working for an idiot.
His gaze had returned to the basket, giving Faith a modicum of reprieve. She took a deep, calming breath. There was no reason spending time with this man should visibly shake her, and the sooner she got comfortable around him, the better. After all, if he was as good with horses as Jo claimed, she hoped she might be able to convince him to stretch out his community service and continue working with her until her project was—if not finished, then a great deal closer than it was right now.
Then again, maybe he was expecting nothing more than to provide one day’s labor. No one had really set the guidelines for what happened after the auction, or at least nothing that Faith had heard.
“There are canisters of potato salad and barbecue baked beans, as well,” she added, relieved when her voice came out sounding normal. “I’m not much of a cook, but I made them myself. The beans are an old family recipe. Back home we called them Cowboy Beans.” The thought struck her as funny and she chuckled.
“Well, that’s fittin’.” He pulled out the plastic container of beans and scooped a heaping portion onto each of their plates. “Where’s home?”
He sounded genuinely interested, putting her more at ease. She leaned back on her hands. “I was born out east. Connecticut. I attended college in Wyoming. That’s where I got interested in horses.” It was also where she’d met...
She cut the thought off firmly, refusing to let her mind wander in that direction again. It still hurt to think about Keith and his son. She coughed, realizing Jax was speaking and she’d missed what he’d just said. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered for a second there. What did you say?”
His dark eyebrows lowered over stormy brown eyes. He assessed her, the working side of his lip curving into a frown. “Nothing important. Just that there’s good horse country out in Wyoming. Potato salad?”
“Yes, please.” She was relieved that he didn’t push her on what had caused her distraction. She wasn’t ready to talk about Keith, or about his precious son.
They ate in silence for a while, each lost in thought. As the auction continued, more people moved to the green, milling around them, talking and laughing. Some even stopped to introduce themselves. Faith should have been happy to be so welcomed by her new community, but her empty chest echoed with the sounds.
Before she knew it, Jax had cleaned his plate—not once, but twice, leaving her glad she’d thought to pack extra. Jo Spencer had advised her on the eating habits of the Texas male, and Jax was no slouch in that department.
“If you don’t mind me asking—why?” Jax’s voice had a hard edge to it, and he didn’t quite meet her gaze.
“Why?” she repeated, bracing herself. She wasn’t ready for him to elaborate on his question, to have to explain why a city woman wanted to open up a mustang sanctuary in the country, but sometimes there was