Loving the Country Boy. Mia Ross
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“Mornin’, Tess.” Well-lined from what she assumed was a lifetime spent outside, Fred’s weathered cheeks crinkled with a smile. “It’s not often we get treated to such a pretty view in here. How’re things with you?”
Since coming to Barrett’s Mill, she’d been asked that more times than she could count. She was gradually getting accustomed to it, and she had a smile ready for him. “Aside from the time difference, I’m doing well. How about you?”
“Can’t complain, and if I did nobody’d listen, anyway.” With a good-natured chortle, he continued. “Olivia’s car needs more work than we thought at first. Parts are on their way, but it’ll be out of commission another day or two.”
“I’ll tell her later, but that’s not why I’m here.”
While she outlined her reason for coming, he gave her a frown that said he could easily relate to what they were going through. “Of course you can have him. That mill’s real important to folks around here, so we need to get it up and running. I’ll go fetch him for you on one condition.”
In her experience, conditions weren’t good for the one asking the favor. But the boys were in a jam, and beyond dragging Paul away from his ailing wife, she didn’t see any other options. Knowing how devoted he was to the family business, she suspected he’d agree to just about anything to get the benefit of Heath’s expertise, so she braced herself for Fred’s terms. “Okay.”
“If this turns out to be over Heath’s head, give me a call.”
“I’m sorry?” she said, totally confused.
“My granddaddy—God rest him—worked his whole career as a sawyer at that mill, raised six kids and had a good life because of the Barretts. Come to think of it, if you need me, I’ll be happy to come out and lend a hand myself.”
The sweet, generous offer just about floored her, and it took all she had not to gape at him. She’d never been around people who stepped up when things got tough for their neighbors, simply because it was the right thing to do. Even before his niece married Jason, Fred had felt a kinship with her family and was willing to put aside his own obligations to help them out. Beyond tradition, it was something she’d seen so rarely, she almost didn’t recognize it.
Honor.
Humbled and gratified all at once, she beamed at him. Suspecting he wouldn’t take kindly to any feminine gushing, she kept it simple. “Thank you, Fred. I’ll let Scott and Jason know.”
With a brisk nod, he headed out the large front door and around the side of the building. While she waited, she went out to the mill truck and took one of the freshly printed brochures from the box Paige had given her. Leafing through the matte pages, she admired the way it was laid out with more pictures than text. It gave the impression that you were strolling through the display area of the mill yourself, rather than just reading about it.
Boyd and Daisy were featured in several of the pictures, and while the folksy approach was nice enough, she wondered if there was a better way to showcase the company’s offerings. The current material might speak to buyers who lived in the country, but many city dwellers might consider it hokey and not look past the presentation to appreciate the superior quality of the handcrafted furniture.
“Nice, huh?”
Heath’s voice descended on her from nowhere, and she jerked back in surprise, turning her ankle in the process. Her high heel buckled underneath her, and she instinctively started windmilling, desperately grasping for something to keep her from falling.
Just when she was convinced she was doomed to hit the pavement, two strong arms reached out and rescued her. Heath guided her to her feet as if she didn’t weigh a thing, circling his arms around her to keep her steady.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
It was the second time she’d heard that from him in as many days, and it was getting old. With her heart trying to slam its way out of her chest, she took a couple of deep breaths to regain her usual composure. Just when she thought she had a grip on her nerves, she looked up.
A pair of warm blue eyes gazed back at her, filled with an emotion she couldn’t begin to define. Not concern, but not humor, either, it was a look she hadn’t yet seen from him. Or from anyone else, for that matter.
Get a grip, Tess, she scolded herself impatiently. Say something. “Yes.”
Her answer was more clipped than she’d intended it to be, and she regretted the dimming effect it had on him. Releasing her, he took a step back. A big one.
“Fred said you wanted to talk to me.”
For a few moments she couldn’t recall why. Then it came to her, and she felt her cheeks warming with embarrassment. She was acting like a teenager with a crush on the school’s star running back, she realized, disgusted by her own foolishness.
While she explained why she’d crashed his day, he listened carefully, nodding and frowning in all the right places. Avery had never paid such close attention to anything she’d said, and she had to admit that despite the serious nature of her errand, she liked being treated with so much respect.
When she was finished, he gave her a bewildered look. “I can come out and take a look, but I don’t know much about nineteenth-century gadgets. It could take me a while.”
“While you get your tools together, I’ll head over to The Whistlestop to pick up lunch for the boys. I can add an order for you, if you want.”
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