The sun in Foremont was hotter than Jace had imagined it would be. He’d gotten up before six that morning to start setting the fencing around his grazing field. He’d put in ten hours so far and had barely put a dent in the job before it was time to feed the herd and shovel out the barn. It was hard work, but he loved it. That didn’t stop him from being exhausted by the time the sun went down. He glanced up at the sun, which was still hotter than hell. If he was going to get the job done in time, he was going to have to work harder. They couldn’t just sit in the small barn all summer.

When he’d told his parents he was using the money his grandmother had left him to buy a ranch in Nevada, they were furious. They needed him to stay close to home, they’d said, so he could help in the family business. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the clean air. It might be a tough, busy life, but it was his. No one was telling him how to live anymore, and it was wonderful. It had been months since he’d attended a drunken family gathering, and nearly a year since he’d listened to his mother’s attempts to interrogate him about his love life. She meant well, but it still drove him crazy. They had money, and lots of it, but when it came down to it, they were like any other family, including the arguing. Here on the ranch, all he got was peace and quiet, and he loved it. It felt good. The work felt good, too. He was finally doing something for himself, and even if he was only turning a small profit, it may have well been the world.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him that the animals would be hungry, too. He climbed back into his pickup, dusty too from the ranch, and drove back to his house. The cool air hit him in the face as he opened the front door and he closed his eyes, luxuriating in it for just a moment. Kicking off his boots, he walked straight to the kitchen and filled a large cup with ice-cold water. God, he’d needed that. He’d grown up in the heat, but the temperature here added an extra layer some days. It would be worth it though, one day. Maybe he’d even have someone to share it with. He opened a cupboard door and then the refrigerator, grimacing. Maybe someone who could actually cook. A couple of cans of bean soup and one limp lettuce leaf wasn’t going to cut it. Grabbing his hat, he walked back out to his truck. Foremont was a small town, but it was just off the interstate and was home to a large truck stop. He had to drive over to the next town to shop for decent groceries, but the truck stop had good food, much closer. It beat cooking any day. He’d restock his place tomorrow. That day, a meal that someone else cooked was calling his name.

On the drive over, he found his mind wandering. There was something about the landscape, the scrub and brown desert soil looking out over the buttes that had an almost mystical effect on Jace. The effect vanished when he pulled into the parking lot of the truck stop and saw a hooker standing at the front entrance to the restaurant. He bore the woman—no, girl, this one couldn’t possibly be legal—no ill will. He just wished he could do something to help them occasionally, more than slinging them a few dollars or, when they looked as young as this one did, calling the cops. He wasn’t going to do that again. He figured anyone who would run away from home for this had a good-enough reason and didn’t need to go back there any more than they needed to be in their current occupation. Hopefully a few bucks from his pocket would at least help that day.

“Hey,” he said as she approached.

“Looking for some fun, mister?” Her voice was thin and she moved slowly. Was she just affected by the heat, or something else? Fucking heroin. It was everywhere around here, along with meth.

“You okay? No one hassling you today?”

She blinked slowly. “I’m good. You, uh, you wouldn’t happen to have a dollar I could borrow, would you?”

He slung a fifty at her. His new venture might still be finding its feet, but with his inheritance at least he’d never be hurting for money like this. Her eyes widened. “Keep it. Just, use it for food, please.”

She nodded vehemently. “Thank you!”

He tipped his head at her, pushing open the door to the restaurant. The waitress came walking over from around the bar and smiled at him, her eyes roaming over his body. “Just one,” he said. God knew what she was looking at. He hadn’t even stopped to wash up after his dusty morning.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Beer, thanks. Whatever you have on tap.”

“Sure thing.” She turned and walked back to the bar, returning quickly with his drink. Jace picked up the menu and looked it over, even though he’d read it at least a hundred times. You never knew when the cook might try something new. He was a funny guy, an older man who didn’t mind chatting with the customers. Maybe he’d sit at the bar awhile after he ate and chat to the old dude, pick up his work again under the stars when the air was cooler. The sky was darkening, but the temperature didn’t show any signs of dropping. He wanted to get a large enough barn put in before winter, when the air would finally get colder at night, but to do that, he needed to get the damn fence finished.

“Uh, excuse me?” He looked up from the menu to see a young blonde calling out to the cook. The man didn’t look up. He was busy cooking, and probably going a little deaf, too. Or maybe he just used that as an excuse to avoid complaining customers. Jace chuckled, hiding his grin behind his beer when she shot a furious glare at him. He didn’t drop his gaze, though. There was something about her, behind the fire, that attracted his attention.

“Hey,” she called out louder.

The cook finally looked up. “What?”

“Looks like you’re short a waitress.”

“Then get yourself a table.” He turned, picking up his knife again.

“I’m trying to get myself a job.”

He turned back and looked her over. “No.”

Her face fell, and Jace’s smile dropped away with hers. Damn, what was it about this girl?

“But I really need one, and you really need a waitress.”

“You’ll scare the customers away, looking like that.”

“Not any more than you already do,” she grinned. She had a point. Cook’s hair was gray and wiry, and either brushed his shoulders or stuck up at all angles. Add in his fondness for inappropriate T-shirts and knife wielding, and she had a point.

“I pay minimum.”

“That’s fine.”

The cook looked her over once more. He must have seen something in her, too, because he nodded. “Alright. Get an apron and come around back.”

Jace’s waitress returned right after to take his order. He must have said something, because she scribbled on her order pad and then walked away, but he didn’t pay any attention.

He was too busy watching the blonde.