Courage Under Fire (Silver Creek #2) - Lindsay McKenna Page 0,50
fine.”
Cari absorbed the low tenor of his tone; it was gentle yet supportive. “Okay . . .” she grumbled belligerently, “I’ll try some more . . .”
“You’re the one who wanted to do this, remember?” He couldn’t help but give a dark chuckle. That earned him an equally dark, shooting look. “I like all your moods, Cari. One minute, you’re a thunderstorm, shooting lightning bolts, and the next, a beautiful rainbow after a storm.”
“I’m trying to concentrate . . . but thank you . . . If I didn’t know better? You’re a poet and didn’t know it.”
“Sounds like you’re one, too. You can rhyme words, Ms. Taylor.”
Another derisive snort. Chase had to give her credit: Cari was stubborn and kept trying. It took her about half an hour, but by that time, her knees were trembling, unused to such stress on them. “Hey,” he said, “let’s call it a day. You’ve done well. Tomorrow, do it for half an hour. Every day for about two weeks, and you’ll be good to go.”
“I’ll probably turn into a fox,” she muttered, giving him a one-eyebrow-raised look. She straightened and came back, sitting on the ground and taking off her moccasins and pulling on her work boots. Chase joined her.
“I’ll pay you for the moccasins. How much were they?”
“Oh, no you won’t. Just consider them a part of our business deal with the ranch.”
She smiled, knotting the laces. “I wonder how many women have swooned over you, Chase. Not only are you a gentleman, but you also give out donuts and moccasins to your employees.”
“Oh . . . women,” he grunted, getting to his feet and stuffing the moccasins into his back pocket.
She stood up, dusting off her butt and then picking up her moccasins and placing them in her pocket. “What’s wrong with women?”
“Nothing, believe me. It’s just . . . well . . . I don’t have a good track record with them. I’m going to the raptor training area. Do you want to come with me? Are you still working with our feisty red-tail, our Wild Child?”
Her truck was parked below, near his. Looking at her watch, she said, “Jenny wants me to keep working with Valkyrie.”
“Do you?” he asked, grinning as they climbed into his truck.
“Very much so! I love all wildlife, but have a special love for raptors. She’s so smart, Chase. She’s scarily human to me.”
“As long as she doesn’t go after your bee brethren, right?” As he pulled out on the road, heading toward the raptor installation, he pointed to the small plastic box on her side of the floor. “If you’re thirsty, there’s cold soda and water in there.”
Touched, she nodded. “Would you like one?”
“Sure, I’ll take water.”
“So will I.” She opened one of the glass bottles and placed the screw top aside. “Why glass? Why not plastic?”
“Why kill all our wildlife and ocean animals with plastic?” he returned, taking the proffered bottle from her.
“I’ve tried to find glass instead of plastic. How did you do it? What company in the USA is doing this?”
“Mary,” he said, taking a deep swig of the water. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, “right here in Silver Creek. Mary is an entrepreneurial spirit and for real. She hated plastic everything when no one was making a peep about how bad it is for our environment. There were some glassblowers in town and she called them in for a conference. She gave them seed money to start making glass bottles of all types and kinds, for drinking water, baking, and cooking, to be sold in her grocery store. Pretty soon, word got out and a number of other, larger natural food grocery chains across the USA, bought into them, too. Pretty soon, our little town’s glass bottling manufacturing plant grew to huge proportions. And since Americans and a lot of others around the world have realized how deadly plastic is in our lives, they’re looking for glass containers of all kinds to replace them. Mary just gave the Silver Creek Glass Company a huge loan to expand, because the demand has skyrocketed and there’s no sign it’s going to stop.”
“That’s incredible. Sitting with her for dinner at night, you’d never tell how successful she really is.”
“My mother,” he drawled with a smile, “is a true force of nature. Everything she touches turns to gold.”
“Or maybe, the goose that lays golden eggs?” Cari suggested, returning his smile.