Trusting The Cowboy

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.

Chapter Three (#ulink_c4318e56-72f2-500b-90f4-21a1716eec0d)

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 his jockey box at the back of the truck and was about to get in when he heard Lauren call his name, then saw her jog toward him.

As she came closer, he was unable to stop his heart lifting at the sight of her. Sandals and blue jeans again today, white tank top, hair tied back, tiny curls framing her flushed face.

She ran the back of her hand over her damp forehead as she stopped in front of him, breathless.

“Sorry to bother you. I was hoping to go into town again this afternoon, but my car has a flat tire. Do you know whom I can call to get it fixed? Jodie is in Bozeman and not answering my calls. And Aunt Laura has been gone the past few days.”

“I can change the tire for you.”

“No. You’ve got your own work to do,” Lauren said, turning down his offer with a flutter of her hands, her bright red nail polish flashing in the sun. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“If you’ve got a decent spare, it’s no trouble.”

“I should know how to do it myself, but living in the city...” She shrugged her shoulder. “I’d just call roadside assistance.”

“Well, even if you called the tow truck, it could take a couple of hours before Dwayne got here.” Vic gave her a crooked smile. “So, that leaves me, I guess. Unless you want to wait.”

“I feel bad asking you.”

Vic didn’t even answer, just headed over to her car. The rim of the front driver’s side tire was resting on the ground, the tire a puddle of rubber underneath it.

“Doesn’t get much flatter,” he said. “Where’s your spare and jack?”

“All I know is that it’s in the back. Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ll figure it out.”

He opened the trunk and a few minutes later managed to finagle the full-size spare tire out of its compartment. When he dropped it on the ground, instead of a little bounce, it landed like a rock on its rim, as flat as the tire he was supposed to replace.

“Oh, no. I forgot that I’d already had a flat tire a couple of weeks ago,” Lauren said with a note of disgust. “Stupid of me.”

“I’m going into town now,” Vic said. “I’ll bring the tires in and get them fixed.”

Lauren nodded, but Vic saw that she looked disappointed. Then he remembered. “You said you needed to go into town yourself. I can bring you where you want to go.”

She hesitated, then gave him a sheepish smile. “That’d be great. I feel silly about that, too, because I was in town this morning and when I came home I realized I forgot some groceries.”

“Get in. I’ll drop you off and get your tire fixed.”

“I just need to change, if that’s okay.”

“No problem,” he said, though he wondered why. He thought she looked fine.

Of course he wasn’t one to judge what was suitable, he thought, glancing down at his grease-stained blue jeans and dirty shirt.

He manhandled the tires into the back of the truck, getting even more dirt on his shirt. He called the machine shop to see if he could get the part in, and thankfully they could repair it while he waited.