by Em Petrova
Ryder lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “We’ve got other things on our minds, other things to pay for.”
Yeah, Ryder had a little girl and Buck a boy with another bun in the oven, from what Ridge could tell. Though the announcement hadn’t been made, Channing was getting a little thicker around the middle.
“Think it’s the starter this time?” his brother asked.
Ridge took off his hat and scratched his head. His hair was already damp though he’d been working a total of what—four minutes? The air was like hot pudding, and even walking to the outbuilding caused a sweat to break out on him. “Probably the starter.” He heaved a sigh, set his hat on the seat and switched on the overhead light.
“At least you can see. Remember Pa back in the day, working by what light came in from the door?”
Fuck, now Ryder was getting chatty. Ridge grunted and lifted the hood cover. Reaching into the bundle of gears and wires that comprised the engine, he wiggled a few things.
“Try that.”
Ryder stretched an arm overhead to turn the key on the big tractor. Nothing happened.
“Okay, let me check the battery.”
“That’s new, isn’t it? Doesn’t seem likely.”
“Yeah, yeah. But I don’t want to start tearing apart this engine only to find there’s an easier fix.”
Ten minutes later, with every easy avenue a dead end, he’d busted open one knuckle and grease stained his only clean shirt. That was another thing—he was getting damn tired of things like laundry. Sure, he could ask his mother to do it, but she had enough work keeping the mud out of the front room and fixing huge meals for all of them several times a day. But who had time for crap like laundry?
He growled as the wrench slipped on the bolt for the fifth time. “Ryder, hand me that socket wrench. I can’t get a good fit with this.” He held out a hand, waiting for the tool to be placed in it.
When he grasped on air, he threw a look over his shoulder. “Ryder?”
Some clinking noises reached him, and he waited. He peered at the offending bolt, trying to remain calm. Overall, he didn’t mind repairs like these. He’d been the go-to guy for mechanics since he was fifteen. But sometimes he wished he could laser off the bolt with his glare.
He pushed out a sigh. “Sometime today would be nice.”
The cool metal of a handle hit his palm. That he was prepared for. What he wasn’t ready for was the feminine voice that answered.
“Sorry, it took me a while to find the socket wrench.”
He jerked, heart leaping with the hope it was Anna. His forehead connected with the hood, and he groaned. Then he whirled, his gaze lighting on slim jeans tucked into tall, battered, brown cowgirl boots. Simple boots.
Before he lifted his gaze to take in the rest of the woman, he knew it wasn’t Anna. She wouldn’t be caught in a pair of boots with less than a thousand rhinestones on them. And she’d turn up her nose at brown.
Kashley offered him a friendly smile. “Long time, no see, Ridge.” Her attention flashed to his forehead, and she took a hasty step forward. When she pressed her warm fingers against his skin, he flinched.
“Dammit, am I cut?” he asked.
“Ohhh.” Her coo made him look at her harder. Worry was etched on her pretty features, and her mismatched eyes lifted to his forehead. “You’re bleeding. Crap, I don’t have anything to wipe it with, do you?”
It took him a second to catch up to what she was saying, and it wasn’t because the pain in head was too much.
No, her obvious concern sent him into a tailspin. Nobody but his ma and Wynonna had fussed over him in months. It felt as foreign as that smile he’d attempted the previous day.
When he didn’t answer, she began unrolling her denim shirt sleeve. Then she lifted the cuff toward his forehead.
He snapped out of whatever fog he’d gotten lost in and dug in his back pocket, pulling out a clean bandanna.
Her wide lips twitched up at the corners as she took it. “Good thing it’s red.”
“It doesn’t feel as if it’s bleeding a lot.”
“No, but your ma won’t appreciate a bloodstain.”
He grunted, partly at her words and partly as she probed the cut. “I do my own laundry.”
“Do ya now?” Her gaze lit on his. Until now he hadn’t realized how much he missed her. Missed those eyes. In grade school she’d been teased about them a lot, and he’d taken on his share of the bullies on her behalf. This wasn’t the first time he’d bled for her.
“Well it seems you have enough grease to worry about in your laundry. What’s wrong with the tractor?”
“Damn starter,” he grumbled.
“You won’t need it today, anyway. The rain started.”
When he listened, he detected the first drops hitting the metal roof of the outbuilding. Realizing she still held the cloth to his head, he covered her hand with his. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Kashley.”
She went still for a long second and then removed her hand and stepped back. “You’re welcome. I don’t think it will require stitches. Besides, you’ve got a hard head.”
A sound left him, a huffing noise that surprised him. It was almost a laugh.
They looked at each other. A dozen thoughts raced through his brain. She’d filled out, gotten more sensual-looking and curvy since he’d seen her. She wore her hair differently, with a long front piece that dipped over her blue eye. Did she know about his scandal with Anna?
Of course she does. The entire country knows.
He leaned against the side of the tractor and gave a last swipe at his forehead. “All better?” he asked.
She smiled wide enough that her white, straight teeth were showcased. His gaze latched onto them, remembering her years of painfully crooked teeth and braces.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“When I didn’t find you in the barn, I figured you’d be here.”
“I mean, why are you at the ranch?”
“My father wanted to talk to Buck.” Her words raised a deep ache in Ridge for his father. He’d been gone for a while now, but he’d never stop wishing he could sit down and talk to his old man. He’d taught him everything he knew about fixing engines. Too bad he hadn’t taught him how to choose a life partner. Apparently Ridge was no good at it.
“I’m sorry again about your pa,” Kashley said quietly.
“Thank you. He’ll always be missed around here.”
She came to lean against the tractor beside him, folding her arms so that her perky breasts rested atop them. She’d come to the funeral, of course, and he’d seen her a time or two after that. Then she’d drifted away, kept to herself. What had she been doing with her time? Was she seeing anyone?
“Still at the house?” he asked, probing the edge of his cut again with a forefinger.
She grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away. “Don’t touch it, especially with your dirty hands. When did you last have a tetanus shot?”
“Stop fussing, woman. I’m fine.”
His words made her grin, her white teeth flashing again. The rain came down harder, drumming the roof so she had to raise her voice. “Yes, I’m still home. I don’t see any point in going away when I’m doing exactly what I want to do.”
He arched a brow, and it sent a pang of pain through his forehead. “Working with horses?”
“Yeah. I trained one recently for an autistic girl in Tulsa.”
“That’s great.” He felt the corners of his lips tug. Damn, was she going to make him smile and laugh?
She shifted her feet, drawing his attention to her legs. She was mid-height, but her legs always had been long in comparison. Until he’d gone through his eighth-grade growth spurt, she’d outrun him every single time.
“I love working with the horses. You know that. And I took over Ryan’s chores when he left.”
“He still in vet school?”
“Yes, second year.”
“Think he�
�ll set up practice here when he’s done?”
She shrugged, and it jostled her breasts. A strange, sharp stab hit his groin. He shifted too, bringing his shoulder closer to Kashley’s. Damn, he’d missed her comfortable presence. She’d been one of his best friends forever.
“I see you’ve got some little Calhouns around here now. Maybe you can introduce me before I go.”
“You’re not leaving now, are you?” He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want her to. Suddenly, he realized Ryder had disappeared, leaving him to fix the tractor on his own. Ridge hoped he’d gotten caught in the rain and got a good soaking.
“No, I’m not going anywhere in this downpour.”
“Have you lost your love for playing in puddles?” he teased.
She unfolded her arms to push the heel of her hand against his shoulder. He rocked to the side but moved right back to his original position. Actually, a little closer. Her long, thick hair brushed his sleeve. “I’m a country girl—I like getting muddy. Everything looks better covered in mud.”
He remembered that about her high school years—she’d gone after every guy with a dirty truck and spent her weekends mudding with them. A tightness formed in Ridge’s chest as he thought of all those guys she’d gone out with back then. For a spell, he’d wanted a truck to get muddy with her more than anything, but after a few months, he’d moved on from that.
“Seeing anybody?” he blurted before he could stop himself.
A flush climbed her cheekbones, and she dipped her head to stare at her boots. “Not really. Not for a while.”
Then she met his gaze. Crap, he hadn’t been thinking about the natural course of conversation when he’d asked her that question—that it would boomerang around to him next. It’d been so long since he’d held an actual conversation with anybody who didn’t know what had happened between him and Anna.
Pushing out a long breath through his nose, he scuffed his boot against the concrete floor. “I suppose you know everything.”
Her blue-brown eyes loomed in front of his vision as she forced him to look at her. She placed her hand on his forearm, leaning close. “Ridge, this is us. You can tell me about it, or you can let it rest. I’m just here to be your friend.”
He snorted, the sound harsh in the quiet of the space. The rain continued to drum the roof, creating a cozy background noise that soothed him a little. But did he want to talk to his old friend about his fucked-up life?
“What’s your pa want with Buck?”
“Nice subject change.” Her teeth flashed again, and suddenly things were a little easier between them. She picked up the wrench he’d dropped at some point and placed it back into his hand. “You’d better work on that starter while I talk.”
This time the slight smile that edged up the corner of his mouth didn’t feel as odd. Maybe he could get used to this.
He took the wrench and dug back into the repair. She stood hip to hip with him, talking as he worked. Her father wanted to discuss letting some of his horses graze a certain plot of Calhoun land. As they’d always been friends, Buck was sure to agree. Any of the Calhouns would, but as oldest, Buck had taken over most of the business end of the ranch.
Kashley’s talk turned to her brother and what a gigolo he was. When she related her mother’s words that he’d probably caught a disease, Ridge threw his head back and laughed.
The noise startled him. He cut himself off mid-laugh, the sound ending abruptly. He stared into Kashley’s eyes. “Thanks for coming up, Kash. I haven’t laughed in… Well a long time.”
She nodded as if she knew, and then went to the toolbox and located the exact tool he needed to do the job.
* * * * *
Kashley ran her hands down either side of the horse’s fetlock, cooing to it as she did. The animal was accustomed to her daily check and remained still for her. When she finished, she stood and patted the mare’s neck. “Good girl, Princess. All clear.”
Princess nudged her pocket, where she knew Kashley kept the treats. With a laugh, she came out with a baby carrot, and the horse plucked it from her hand. “You’re such a dainty eater. Now this guy…” She moved to the next horse stall and peered at the feisty gelding there. Thor had kicked and bitten Kashley, but he was also prone to injuries that she caught and tended to during her daily rounds, and she liked to think he had a love-hate relationship with her.
He loved her help and baby carrots. Hated her touching him.
He gave her the side-eye as Kashley slowly approached the animal. He stomped in warning. She spoke low and reached out to stroke his neck. Princess snorted as if telling him off, but Thor wasn’t a horse to care. He tossed his head and stomped again.
Kashley didn’t waste time schmoozing Thor. She dropped into a crouch to feel his legs. No heat, no tenderness. Her fingers edged over a small bump the size of a grape along his tendon. Concentrating harder, she touched it again. The horse didn’t protest, but that lump wasn’t there yesterday.
After the third time she ran her hand over his fetlock, Thor was through with her. He huffed and he brought his hoof down hard. “No tenderness, I see. Stubborn horse, I’m trying to see if I need to call the vet in or if you have a silly windpuff.” The puffy spot was no more than extra fluid around the tendon sheath, but she’d have to keep an eye on it. Which meant spending more time with Thor. She’d better bring extra carrots next time.
She fed him his treat, keeping her fingers well away, and moved to the next stall. As she inspected the rest of the stock, her mind wandered. Spending a few hours out of the rain with Ridge had revived their friendship—and the ache inside her.
It was apparent he didn’t see her as anything but his buddy. She’d long ago been friend-zoned, and she was going to have to get over it. Too bad her heart hadn’t gotten the memo. Each time he’d looked into her eyes, her pulse pounded.
And her nipples had been so hard that she’d come home and ripped off her bra to massage them. Of course, that led to copping a feel of other—slicker—body parts, and damn, it was no wonder she couldn’t get over the man.
She finished up her round, checked the horses’ feed and water, and then headed out to tend to the hogs. On the front porch, her mother had placed the slop bucket, and Kashley grabbed the brimming pail with care. Nothing worse than stinky leftovers on her jeans, and she didn’t have time to change before she went into town.
As she approached the hog pen, she breathed shallowly. She wasn’t easily offended by smells, but this was her least favorite job. “Hello, Stinkies,” she said, tipping the bucket over the fence into the trough. There was a waddling stampede, and she stepped back as they pushed their snouts greedily into the trough.
While she rinsed out the pail and put it back on the porch for her momma to find, she thought of Ridge again. Of how good he’d smelled, like soap and a hint of his personal musk that’d long ago been ingrained on her senses. She could pick him out of a crowd with her eyes closed.
Stop. He’s not into you.
She fished in her jeans pocket for her truck keys and crossed to her older model Ford. The Calhouns were Chevy people, and Ridge had often teased her about her vehicle.
Ridge, Ridge, Ridge. Going up there had been a mistake to her poor little heart. He’d seemed to relax in her presence, but she felt more wound up than ever. Her arms ached to twine around him, and the thump of her heart against her ribcage was bad enough, but the throb had sunk low in her core too.
She made an annoyed sound and jumped behind the wheel. All the way into town, her mind made a playground of his physique. So tall—God, the tallness. And his muscles…he was so strong, his shoulders even broader than a year ago.
His jeans hanging low on his hips were a freaking masterpiece, and she’d spent long, pervy minutes staring at his ass while he bent over the tractor. She’d handed him tools when he needed them, their hands brushing more than once, which had sent her into a near frenzy of arousal. She was exhausted from her panting, melting need.
&nbs
p; “Have you done this before, Kash? You know what I need before I ask for it.”
She’d folded her lips, fighting the urge to tell him she knew exactly what he needed, but simply nodded. “I help my pa a lot, remember?”
When he’d stood back and said, “Try to roll her over,” Kashley’s mind had gone down another path, envisioning them rolling in the hay, in bed—hell, right here on the concrete floor of the outbuilding. But he’d meant to try to start the tractor.
She’d felt his gaze on her as she climbed into the seat in order to reach the key, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he liked what he saw. Or if he noticed she was a woman at all. She’d been skinny as a teen, but lately she’d put on a few pounds. She filled out her clothes better, and other guys seemed to like the effect.
Ugh. Ridge, Ridge, Ridge. She put the brakes on her mind that couldn’t seem to get past the speedbumps put there by the sight of Ridge’s abs under his tight T-shirt.
The road stretched before her, the sky still gray and threatening. She wanted to get the things she needed and then home quick, so she stomped on the gas. There were plenty of big stores in Tulsa, but she wasn’t a city driver, so she stuck to the outskirts. Especially one small market that carried the items she needed under one roof.
When she parked between two other trucks, she sat there a minute, trying to shake off the spell Ridge had cast over her. She couldn’t walk around in this fog all day or she’d never get anything accomplished.
As soon as she walked into the store, Derry Lander greeted her with a nod and gap-toothed grin. She gave him a smile and hurried to the aisles that carried the items she needed before he cornered her. Derry was the only hazard in coming to the small general store, and sometimes she thought braving the city traffic was better than setting foot within a country mile of the man.
The scuff of his boots sounded as he tailed her through the store. “How’re things up your way, Mizz Kashley?”
She threw him a look over her shoulder. He was harmless, and most likely lonely. As far as she knew, he’d never dated a woman his whole life, and he had to be in his thirties. People said he was a little bit on the simple side, and she liked him fine, but he liked her too much.
