Chet stood over an anvil, a pair of metal tongs in one hand and a large, flat hammer in the other. The tongs held a horseshoe that glowed bright orange. Chet brought the hammer down again and again, sending flecks of iron flying.
Mercedes watched, mesmerized by the white sputtering light from the portable forge silhouetting Chet in the dim overhead lights. His muscular arms glistened in the heat. When he shoved the hot shoe into a bucket of cold water, steam rose up with a loud hiss. Mercedes had never seen anything so primal. The basic struggle of a man wielding iron was … enthralling. It stirred all sorts of emotions and made her stomach flutter. She couldn’t wait to capture it on canvas.
Chet looked up from his work, found her standing there, and caught her in a smoldering look. All of a sudden, Mercedes understood why Grandpa referred to kissing as “sparking.” There were definitely sparks flying in the barn, and not all of them were from the forge blazing away behind Chet. For one second, she pictured him throwing aside his tools, taking her up in his arms, and kissing her until the sun came up.
Dang, her mind could paint a captivating picture.
She stumbled forward, the plate in her hands. “I brought you some food. I mean dinner, I brought you a real dinner.”
“Looks good.” Chet’s eyes had never left Mercedes, and she caught the double meaning. He turned and shut off the forge.
Mercedes had a hard time getting the picture of kissing Chet out of her head. In fact, she’d practically painted the image in her mind, complete with sparks. She fanned her face as Chet took the plate. “Is it hot? I mean, is it always this hot in here? I’m sure it’s hot around the forge. That’s the point of a forge.” Her voice squeaked and she pressed her fingers to her throat. Her pulse was pounding away, making it hard to concentrate.
Chet cleared his throat. “For some reason, it feels extra warm tonight. Let’s go outside where it’s cooler.” Chet led her to the backyard, where he sat on a bench near a tree.
Mercedes remembered kids climbing the tree during the picnic. The lowest branches were about hip-high and even the smaller kids could reach those. By focusing on the image of children climbing the tree, she was able to bring her heart rate back to normal, or as close to normal as it was going to get around Chet.
The more time she spent with him, the harder it was to deny she was attracted to him. Right off the bat she’d noticed he was attractive, but she hadn’t realized how quickly an attraction could ignite. She liked that her interest in him grew the more she learned about him. With other guys, the initial flare dwindled out fairly quickly. She thought that was just the way it was supposed to be. She never imagined a guy could get more interesting as time went on. There was so much she didn’t know about Chet, things she wanted to learn. She had to force herself to clamp down on the questions erupting in her mind for fear she’d annoy him.
Chet motioned for her to sit down first. Mercedes sat to one side, leaving enough room for him to join her on the bench.
“Have you eaten?” asked Chet.
Mercedes shook her head.
Chet offered her the plate, and she took one of the sandwiches.
“Do you mind if I offer grace?” she asked.
Chet grinned. “Not at all.” He pulled his ball cap off his head and ran his fingers through his hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking up before folding his arms.
Mercedes bowed her head and offered thanks for the food. They ate in silence for a moment. Feeling her intense hunger rear its head, Mercedes felt all the more guilty for starving Chet and Aiden. “Sorry for working you through dinner.”
Chet swallowed. “No big deal. I don’t usually eat dinner until it’s dark anyway.”
“Something about burning daylight?” asked Mercedes.
“Yeah. We were raised that if it’s light out, we should be working.”
“Well, I promise next time I’ll have some real food for you guys. Do you think Aiden was starving?”
“Naw, the kid eats seven meals a day.”
“That’s good.” Mercedes released her breath.
Chet looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Where did you learn to build a deck?”
Mercedes blushed at the obvious praise in his voice. “My mom’s a nurse and my dad is an English teacher at a high school. My grandpa owned several apartment buildings, and Cat and I spent a lot of time following him around while he worked on things. Eventually he taught us how to do the work and then hired us to help with maintenance. It wasn’t a bad gig, but he wouldn’t let us go out on calls unless we went together. He also taught us how to use mace and insisted we carry it.”
“Did you ever have any trouble?” Chet’s chest tightened as he thought of these two beautiful women walking into a dangerous situation.
“Not once. Grandpa screened his tenants pretty well, and if he ever felt uncomfortable around someone, he’d take on the job himself.”
“He’s a lucky guy to have you two around.”
Chet finished off his dinner, and Mercedes wasn’t far behind. When she was done, he took the plate to the outside barrel. Mercedes stood up; she didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome either.
“Thanks for the food.”
“It was no big deal.”
Chet rubbed his stomach. “Tell that to my stomach.” He smiled.
Mercedes chuckled.
Chet looked out at the corral, his eyebrows drawn together. Mercedes studied his profile, noting the Roman nose and firm jaw. He’s be so easy to paint. She was anxious to get back to the house so she could prep a canvas. It would take at least twenty minutes for the primer to dry enough that she could start. On the other hand, being here with Chet had its draw.
Chet caught her staring and tilted his head. “What are you thinking about?”
“Thinking?” Mercedes repeated, coming out of the place in her head where she planned her paintings. After all this time, it was still there!
Like a hard candy coating melting in the palm of her hand, her emotional block cracked and she could feel again. Having the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with toss her to the curb had damaged her more than she’d been willing to admit. It was only now, with the shield around her heart crumbling away, that she understood the thickness of it and the limitations it placed on her art and in her life. The flash of desire for Chet that she’d felt in the barn must have been hot enough to initiate the change. She focused on Chet, hoping her carnal revelation didn’t show on her face.
“Yeah, you get this look, like you’re working your way through a problem, but it’s a good thing. You look happy, just a bit distracted.”
Mercedes lowered her eyebrows and bit her lip. Others had commented on her spacing out. Painting was as much a part of her as building decks or fixing sinks was. She wanted to share it with Chet, but was worried he wouldn’t understand.
He reached up and ran his thumb down gently down her chin. His eyes were soft. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Being here with Chet, with the evening sun warm on her skin, the smell of earth, and the shifting of animals, stirred something inside Mercedes she’d never felt before. The feeling was so intense it took her words away. After being numb for so long, the longing deep inside was almost too much.
Chet’s hand dropped. Mercedes instinctively stepped closer and touched his arm.
Chet looked down at her hand and then back up to her eyes.
Mercedes dropped her gaze. She’d tried to explain how her mind worked over an image to people before and they’d brushed her off. She didn’t know if she could take it if Chet did the same. “Sometimes,” she paused trying to organize her thoughts before continuing. “Sometimes there are these moments that are full.”
“Full?”
“Full of emotion or feelings that grab onto me and I want to capture them on canvas.”
“So you’re planning a painting.”
“Yeah, basically.”
“Of me?” Chet raise
d his eyebrow.
Mercedes’s face flamed. “Um … yeah. But not because you’re good-looking.”
Chet raised the other eyebrow.
“You are good-looking.” Mercedes stuttered. “I mean ...” She looked up and then down and blew out a big breath. “I’m attracted to beauty. Cat says I have an eye for it. I guess all artists do, or should, or need one.” Mercedes finally got her mouth to stop moving.
Chet fought against a smile. “So let me get this straight. I’m beautiful and when you look at me, you have feelings.”
Mercedes wanted to die. There was no way she could tell him there were dozens of feelings racing through her; everything from intense attraction to a sense of home.
Chet lifted one side of his mouth in this half grin that melted all of Mercedes reserves. Who was she kidding? She’d tell him anything. It wasn’t just the way he made her feel like the only woman worth looking at in the whole wide world; she trusted him and that was a huge deal.
A large black truck pulled into Chet’s gravel drive saving Mercedes from further embarrassing herself or baring her soul. A man in shiny boots and a pristine cowboy hat threw open the door. He held up his hand in greeting.
Chet did the same. He took a protective step forward and slightly in front of Mercedes.
As the man approached, Mercedes took in his crisply ironed shirt and new western jeans. He was wearing much the same clothing as Chet, but he was much too clean to have spent the day on a tractor.
“Hello, I’m Thomas Staker. I’m lookin’ for Mr. Bauer.”
“I’m Chet.”
The man looked Chet over. “I’m looking for the senior Mr. Bauer, the owner of the property.”
Chet folded his arms. “This is my place,” he replied in an even tone.
“Well, then.” The man dug a business card out of his front shirt pocket. “This is good news. I was told your dad was opposed to the idea of a cell tower, but you and your wife might appreciate what we have to offer.”
“She’s not ...” said Chet.
“We aren’t …” said Mercedes.
Mr. Staker held up his hands. “My mistake.” He turned his full attention to Chet. “I’m prepared to talk real numbers.”
Chet’s jaw clenched. “I’m not interested.”
A cell tower? Mercedes had seen several of them as she drove across the country. They rose high into the sky and bounced light as if they were made of tinfoil.
“The initial payments are substantial.”
“I’m sorry you drove all the way out here for nothing.”
Not to be deterred by Chet’s refusal, Mr. Staker held out a manila envelope. “I’m not asking you to make a decision right now. All I’m asking is that you look over this information packet.”
Chet eyed the envelope. He reached his hand out slowly, as if he expected it to bite. When he had a good grip on it, the salesman dropped his hand.
Touching the brim of his hat and smiling at Mercedes, Mr. Staker said, “It was a pleasure speaking with you both. Have a good night.”
Chet exchanged a look with Mercedes as the truck pulled away.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“Change.” He sighed. “They come around every couple of months. This is the first one since I bought the place.” He glanced behind him again. “He’s the first one who’s willing to talk about money though. They must be getting desperate.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“What are you thinking?”
Chet grinned. “I think we got interrupted. Do you have plans tomorrow?” Chet cupped her elbow. Mercedes felt an awareness spread through her. The world started buzzing again as Chet continued on. “I mean, besides working on the house. Maybe in the evening, around dinnertime?”
Mercedes blinked. Was he …? “Are you asking me out?” It took her a moment to wrap her mind around the shift in conversation.
Chet chuckled. “If that didn’t come out right, maybe I need a lesson from Sam.”
Mercedes grinned. “I’d love to. I mean, I like dinner. I mean, I like dinner with you.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she realized how cheesy they sounded. She bit her cheek. “Can I just jump in a well? Do they have wells in Montana? I should probably get back. I left a mess in the kitchen.”
“I’ll pick you up around six.”
“I’d like that.” Mercedes turned to leave and bumped into a low hanging branch. The world buzzed around her, and she felt like an idiot. Then she felt pain—in her forehead. She reached up to rub the spot where she’d hit the tree, and a bee fell away, already dead.
Chet grabbed her hand, pulled her out from under the branches and over to her car.
Mercedes‘s eyes stung and she blinked.
Chet took her face in his hands. “Are you all right?”
“I, I think so. I got stung again.”
He checked for a stinger by brushing his fingers across her forehead. “They were really swarming. Their hive must be in that tree. I’ll have to call Sam and have him come get it tomorrow. At least this one didn’t leave his stinger behind.”
Bees hummed through the air, madly circling the tree, ready to defend the hive.
“Sam?”
“Yeah, he owns an orchard and has tons of hives. This group may be his. If not, he can give them a home.”
Mercedes’s face felt heavy and strange. She wanted ibuprofen, and fast. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of out of it.”
Mercedes wanted to get home, where she could lie down and let this stupid thing swell up in privacy. So much for painting tonight. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, like someone was trying to drive a screw into her forehead. “I’m fine.”
Chet opened her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”
Mercedes’s stomach rolled. Losing her meal wasn’t the impression she wanted to leave with Chet tonight, so she smiled through it. Of course, running headlong into a tree branch wasn’t a great one either, but at least it was better than watching her be sick. “You’re welcome.” She hurried to put on her seatbelt.
Chet shut her door and stepped back. Mercedes focused on getting the key into the ignition and starting the car. It was a good thing she lived on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, because she had to work through the pain to keep the car on the road.
The one bright spot was that Chet hadn’t laughed at her for running into the tree like a dork. He was a true knight in shining armor, fending off giants, building a bridge for her castle—okay, it was a deck and she helped, but still—and now taking her to dinner. But what she liked the most was the way his eyes warmed when she said she’d paint him. He wasn’t embarrassed or overly flattered. He was accepting, as if he understood it was a part of her. That was, in and of itself, enough of a reason to get to know him better.
Chapter 13
Mercedes woke up the next morning to a pounding in her head and a stiff face. She padded into the front room to find Cat hunched over her laptop, her fingers tapping away at the keys.
“Looks like the writing is going well,” said Mercedes.
Cat jumped up and blocked the computer with her body. “It’s great … great. Holy cow—what happened to your face?”
“That wasn’t nice.” Mercy reached up and felt her head. Just over her left eye was a huge lump. “Oh no.”
She ran to the bathroom, Cat right on her heels.
“Oh, no, no, no, no.” Mercedes’s gently probed the bump that was roughly the size of a baseball. “This is awful! I have a date with Chet tonight.” She whirled to face Cat and pulled her hair out of the way. “Is it as bad as I think it is?”
Cat grimaced. “If Quasimodo had a sister …”
“Agh! I can’t go out with him looking like Quasimodo.”
Cat took her hand and pulled her back to the living room. She quickly closed Word and opened her web browser. “Do you think you got bit by a spider in your sleep?” She pulled her shou
lders in and glanced around the room, as if a spider would jump out and attack her at any moment.
Mercy melted into a chair. “No, I got stung by a bee when I took dinner over to Chet last night.”
“How did that go?”
Mercy pressed her cool fingers to her head. “Can I give you the update later?”
“Right.” Cat bit her lip as she typed. “Maybe we need to reconsider this relationship if he has bees …” She scrolled through several sites. “Okay. A normal reaction is to have redness and a dime-sized amount of swelling.”
Mercedes felt her head. “What does it say about growing a horn like a unicorn?” Of all the rotten luck.
“That’s what they call a ‘localized’ reaction. It’s no more dangerous than a normal reaction, but it looks a lot worse.”
“Ya think?” Mercedes couldn’t help the sarcasm from filling her voice. “Why would it get worse?”
“Alls I know is you’re going to the doctor. I’ll call Whitney and see who she takes her family to.”
Mercedes slid onto her back on the couch and threw her arm over her face. Cat returned before she had a chance to really dig into the self-pity and enjoy it.
“Doctor Taggart’s office said we should come in right away.”
Chet’s head was as full as a barn after the harvest. After Mercedes left, he’d spread the papers from the businessman across the counter and dug in. The numbers looked too good to be true. Therefore, he assumed they were.
On the positive side, the company didn’t want to buy the land; they wanted to lease it. That was a selling point for him, because he’d worked this land his whole life, and he didn’t have any desire to see it parceled off. In addition, he could continue to put cattle on the hill in the winter like he always had. All he’d have to do was clear a dirt road and put in a fence.
He’d spent hours looking through the lease agreement, trying to find the loophole that had his dad up in arms the last time the guys came through town. The biggest detriment was the idea of having an ugly cell tower right there on the hill. But with that kind of monthly income, Chet could quit at the elementary school and put some into savings. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.
Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set Page 19
