“Start breakfast when you get back to the house,” he tells me. “After you unsaddle the horse, of course.” I narrow my eyes without thinking. Cook? I have no problem helping out, but why that? I look away. “I’ll pitch in, but I’m not staying in the kitchen.” I’m not sure if I have a problem with cooking or because that’s where he wants me. Put the girl at the stove, because of course she doesn’t know how to ride a horse or shoot, right? “Do you know how to tend crops instead?” he asks.
Cooking as a part of my share but not gonna do that all the time because I’m not a fucking personal chef
