As Kennedy enjoyed his first bite of the burger, another car left and then the second one followed. He didn’t mind sitting out there all alone, though. He got a lot of quiet time while working on the ranch, but he rarely had an opportunity to just sit, eat, and not talk to anybody. Meals in the bunkhouse were almost always noisy, with the guys chatting nonstop, the only exception being Wyatt, who’d given up on reading lips when people’s mouths were full. On days when Kennedy had classes and ate at the cafeteria, the college union was jam-packed with students, who also talked nonstop. It was kind of nice to eat in silence, with the pine-scented night air drifting through the truck cab. Studying for final exams had drained him, and he was glad that he’d taken a break.

Just then, a ’56 Chevy Bel Air Sport Coupe pulled in under the overhang and almost took out the intercom post. Kennedy startled so badly that his behind parted company with the bucket seat. Holy hell. That car was fully restored, with cherry-red and gleaming white paint, tail fins almost sharp enough to cut bread, and chrome polished to such a shine it glinted. And that kid almost creamed the front fender. He also recognized the raucous rumble of a glasspack muffler. Sweet. Kennedy would have given his right arm to own that vehicle. What father in his right mind allowed an addlebrained teenager to go joyriding in a classic? Kennedy guessed he shouldn’t pass judgment. Some people had money to burn and others didn’t. He also needed to remember that it hadn’t been that long ago when he’d been a rowdy teen with more testosterone than brains, not to mention too many beers under his belt.

There were four boys in the car, all of them laughing and acting silly. Kennedy remembered those days, too. He smiled as he took another bite of his burger and stuffed in a couple of fries. The teenage driver pressed the intercom button and tried to place the orders, which involved a lot of arguing and revising before he finally got it right for his friends. Then all four kids settled down to wait.

Kennedy had finished half of his burger when the little blonde emerged from the building with a heavily laden tray balanced on her hands. She was all-over adorable in a red-plaid skirt barely long enough to cover her butt cheeks and a white knit top that showcased her small breasts. Again, he admired her skill on skates. He’d probably end up flat on his ass with hamburgers all over him, but she managed on those roller skates as if she’d been born wearing them. She hesitated when she saw the Chevy, but then she stepped off the curb and wheeled over to the driver’s side. Just as she got close, the door flew open, knocking her almost off balance and sending the tray flying. Kennedy nearly dropped his sandwich.