When The Ocotillo Bloom

The rowdy hum of children’s voices replaced the clatter of trays and cookware. Evidently, Seth believed meal times were for socializing as conversations and laughter flew around the room. Her eyes sought their fearless leader. He sat amid a group of teenage boys, laughing at the antics of one. Her respect for him grew a notch. She admired a man who enjoyed the company of kids.
Seth watched his new bread cook. Her face flushed from the heat of the ovens and the hard work of rolling out biscuits. If she were tired now, she’d be dead when she finished kneading bread dough.
He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and looked around the room. It was going to be a good day. The wranglers were well fed and happy. Lynn’s face lit with pleasure at their compliments. She deserved every one. Her biscuits were some of the best he’d eaten. He considered going back for two more, but didn’t want to experience another glare like the one she’d shot him as he went through the line. Probably because of the big grin he had on his face. Flour smeared her cheek, and a glob of dough clung to a strand of her bangs that had escaped the bandana she wore to hold her hair back. Damned if she didn’t look cute.
Lynn finished her breakfast. When she glanced up to see him watching her, she stiffened. Ignoring him, she stood and walked back into the kitchen.