Trusting The Cowboy. Carolyne Aarsen
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she normally did.
And he was, suddenly, not in any rush to find another roll of baler twine.
“You’ve got some dirt on your face,” he said, pointing.
Lauren hastily scrubbed at her cheeks but only managed to make it worse.
Vic pulled out a hankie from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Use this.”
She frowned as she looked down at the red polka-dotted square.
“I haven’t used it yet,” he assured her.
“Thanks, but that’s not what I was worried about. I don’t meet many men who actually use the hankies they carry.” She hurriedly wiped her face, as if embarrassed he had caught her looking less than her best. “Though they’re not called hankies, technically they’re pocket squares and they’re usually white, artfully folded and peeking out of a suit pocket.” Then she released a short laugh. “Sorry. Babbling.” She looked up at him, her expression questioning. “Did I get it all?”
“Still some on your left cheek,” he said, pointing with his right hand. She wiped her right cheek. “No. The other left cheek,” he said with a grin.
She wiped furiously at her left cheek but still missed the spot.
“A little more to the left,” he said. A deep frown creased her forehead as she moved to the right, scrubbing again as if it was important she remove this dirt.
He finally took the hankie from her, caught her chin in his hand and wiped off the dirt himself. It was still smudged, but the worst was off.
He was disconcerted to see her looking up at him, her face holding a curious expression. “Sorry,” he said, lowering his hands. “I thought...you...you’d...”
“No. Thanks. It’s okay. I hate being dirty. Just a thing. Thanks.”
“Well, if that’s a problem, you’ve also got some grass in your hair.” But this time, instead of explaining, he plucked it out himself.
“I guess I’m ready to face the world,” she said with a nervous laugh, pulling away as he tugged at another piece.
As she did, his hand accidentally brushed her cheek, and she jumped as if he had struck her.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding breathless as she leaned over to pick up the shovel. “Still jumpy. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“That was my fault. I didn’t think anyone was in here, either. What are you doing with the shovel?”
“I’m cleaning out the flower beds. They’re horribly overgrown. I used to take care of them every summer when we came to visit. Dad must have let them get out of hand.”
“Your dad wasn’t much for gardening,” Vic said.
Lauren smiled at him and something dangerous shifted deep in his soul. He knew those first few whispers of attraction. Had felt them many times before. The last time was with Tiffany. Dean’s ex-girlfriend.
The memory was like a slap and he knew he should leave. Yet, against his better judgment, he lingered.
“The lawn is crazy, as well,” she continued as he mentally made his retreat from her. “I’m going to have to do three passes with the lawnmower before it’s acceptable. And I’d like to go into town tomorrow to pick up some flowers. I think the greenhouse is still selling them.”
“Why are you even bothering?” he asked, curiosity keeping him from stepping away. Curiosity and a deep loneliness that had been haunting him the past few months. He hadn’t dated since Tiffany had told him she loved him. That she wanted to break up with Dean and get back together with him. They had dated previously, but she had broken up with him to date his brother. Then realized her mistake and wanted to get back together with Vic. He’d told her she had to do the right thing and tell his brother.
Her timing was atrocious. His inattention and Dean’s anger had contributed to Dean’s accident. Vic felt he was still paying for that mistake.
But now Lauren stood in front of him, attractive, appealing and, truth to tell, probably just as off-limits as Tiffany had been.
“Why bother?” she repeated with a gentle smile that didn’t help his resolve. “It’s something to do and, well, I’d like to make it nice for the future buyer.”
Her words created a clench deep and low, bringing reality into their cozy little conversation.
“Of course. Good idea.” He straightened his shoulders as if readying himself for whatever lay ahead. “I’ll be done baling this field in a couple of hours. Would it be okay if I come inside and look through your father’s papers afterward?”
“I’m meeting Keira Fortier for supper at the Grill and Chill tonight, so I don’t think so.”
“Another time, then?”
“Sure. When it works.”
Vic fought down his frustration at her nonchalant attitude. This was as important to her as it was to him.
But she had choices.
He didn’t.
Vic lay on his back on the hay field, straining at the wrench. Grass slithered down his back as he wrestled with the bolt on the broken U joint connecting the PTO drive to the baler. Another day, another breakdown.
Yesterday he’d managed to get most of the one field baled. Today he wasn’t sure he would get as much done.
Sweat streamed down his forehead into his eyes. It was hot and he was only half-done baling when the power take-off connecting the tractor to the baler rammed up.
He blinked and tugged again, pushing even harder. Finally the wrench moved. But his damp hands slid along the handle of the wrench banging into the shaft of the PTO, scraping the skin off his knuckles.
He sucked in a breath, allowed himself a flash of self-pity, then picked up the wrench and got the bolt off, blood mingling with sweat on his hands.
He pulled the shaft of the PTO loose, ignoring the throbbing ache in his hands he finished the job.
He pulled out the broken U joint and got to his feet.
As he brushed dried grass off his shirt and pants, he stared at the clear blue sky that seemed to mock him. Hard to believe that rain would be pouring down tomorrow as the forecast on his phone showed. But he’d been fooled by that cloudless blue sky before, so he had to get to town as soon as possible, get the U joint welded, get back, fix it and get going until either evening dew or impending rain forced him to quit.
He shifted the U joint in his hands and trudged across the stubble of the hay field, thankful that the breakdown had happened so close to the yard. He saw his truck, parked now beside Lauren’s car.
And beyond that, he saw Lauren working on the flower beds by the house.
Her car had been gone when he got here early this morning. Last night he hadn’t had the opportunity to look for the agreement. So he had come early. But she hadn’t been in the house this morning, either. Instead he’d gone directly to the tractor, hooked up the baler and gotten to work. She had returned about an hour ago. Now she was outside, working.
He climbed over the fence and headed toward his truck, wondering if he should stop and say hi.
Trouble was, he could still feel a flush of embarrassment at that little moment they had shared in the garage yesterday. He still wasn’t sure what made him do it. He’d thought he was just being helpful, but when his hand brushed her cheek, a tiny shock had shot through him. Like electricity.
Like the feeling of a growing attraction he couldn’t allow himself to indulge in.
He dropped the U joint into