“Winston said from the doorway of the tack room. Chase dragged his eyes away from the screen and cocked an eyebrow at his foreman. “Yes?” “About dinner tonight,” Winston said slowly. “I would, uh, like to help Ms. Nikki cook.” Chase frowned, his eyes back on his mare. The closed circuit TV monitor in the foaling stall was working perfectly. Dobbs, the young vet his uncle had recommended, was giving Philly a checkup. “Why?” “She’s been working hard, but she could really use some help.” Chase turn...ed and studied his foreman. Winston looked uncomfortable, but he met Chase’s eyes squarely. Tucker and Mac stopped whatever they were doing and moved closer. Nikki was a terrible cook, and Chase had wondered when his men would boycott her food. “What are you trying to say, Winston?” Chase asked. “We don’t want to hurt her feelings, boss, but her food…” Winston shook his head. “It is terrible.” “The chili was tasty,” Chase said in her defense. “Yes, boss,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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