by Susan Crosby
Annie sighed. “I’ll get the tractor key.” She’d no more than passed by him when she felt her apron strings come untied and his large, sensual hands cup her rear.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first got here,” he said. “You sure do fill out a pair of Wranglers.”
She’d stopped, was holding on to the doorjamb and looking out the window, letting him touch all he wanted, enjoying every second. “Is that why you walk behind me so much?”
“I spend plenty of time checking out your front side, too, boss. I’m an equal opportunity ogler.” He hooked a finger in her jeans, pulling her against him. “You don’t have a bad side, by the way.”
They both spotted Austin through the window, tossing a Frisbee for Bo. Annie made a quick move toward the front door, pushing open the screen, sensing Mitch right behind her.
“Austin, come over here a sec,” she called.
He tossed the Frisbee again, sending Bo in the other direction.
“Mitch is going to teach you to drive the tractor. You have to—”
Austin jumped straight up and around in a circle at the same time, hollering woohoo. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You have to listen to him, and do exactly as he tells you. The first time you decide you know more than him, he stops the lesson. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “Ma’am, indeed.”
Annie didn’t do as Mitch asked. She peeked out windows, watching Austin maneuver some narrow rows. She knew there wasn’t much to driving the tractor, but it was high off the ground and without seat belts. Plus Austin had never driven any kind of vehicle. When she first drove the tractor, it had taken all her nerve and years of experience driving a car to feel comfortable, especially without the seeming safety of an enclosed vehicle.
She needn’t have worried. He didn’t make a single misstep that she could see, except maybe to give it too much gas a couple of times. She supposed that all his video game playing had given him some experience in maneuvering objects in and around small spaces and at a much higher speed than that old tractor could manage. At least that old 1970 John Deere was one she could repair herself, since it didn’t have an electronic part anywhere.
Just when she was about to turn away she saw the bird netting catch on the smokestack and yank. She gasped, ran to the porch and was just about to holler when the engine shut down.
Mitch waved at her behind Austin’s back, indicating she should go back in the house, then they didn’t come in for a long time. She kept herself busy making a salad and prepping potatoes in foil packets for dinner so that Mitch could grill the fish and the potatoes at the same time.
Annie hadn’t expected Austin to be perfect, especially when some of the rows were hardly wider than the tractor. It was better he’d found that out now and knew how to fix it. She just hoped the damage to the netting was minimal.
When she saw them parking the tractor later she busied herself in the kitchen again, making a peach cobbler. There was a new look in her son’s eyes, the enthusiasm that was usually there but mixed now with pride of accomplishment. He was standing taller. Mitch had been right. Austin was ready.
“How’d it go?” she asked, as if she hadn’t seen anything.
“Pretty good.”
Annie glanced at Mitch, who leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed, his expression bland—except around his eyes, which sparkled with something, either amusement or lust. She didn’t know which.
“Only pretty good?” Annie finally asked.
“I only goofed up once. The netting kinda got caught on the smokestack as I drove by the end of the row, so it kinda got dragged off the bushes.”
“Were you able to fix it?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then. Congratulations.” She hugged her son, who fell against her for a couple of seconds, as if he’d been expecting her to lecture him or something. “Tomorrow you can start tilling the back field.”
He hesitated. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, Monday, then.” She waited for him to react, trying hard not to laugh. It was a struggle for him—take the day to go fishing or drive the tractor.
“Isn’t tilling a spring job?”
“I’m trying to give you practice on the tractor,” she said, a little surprised that he was arguing the point. “Don’t you want to?”
He glanced at Mitch. “We hooked up the tiller and tried it out. It’s kinda hard, and it’s soooo slow, Mom. Mitch says I’ll get stronger as I grow up, then it’ll be easier.”
“And that will help you drive it in straight lines, too?” Amused by her son, Annie kept after him.
“You know, there’s this GPS made just for tractors to help drive in straight lines—”
Annie finally laughed. “In your dreams. We’ll use stakes and string or whatever low-tech-but-free assistance we can get.” She ruffled his hair. “Nice try, though.”
He grinned then raced out of the house. After a few seconds he was tossing the Frisbee for Bo again.
“I’ve said it before. He’s quite a kid,” Mitch said. “He has your sense of responsibility but still a child’s enthusiasm.”
“I hope he doesn’t lose that as the burdens become heavier. The older he gets, the more I’ll expect of him.”
“Hard work never hurt me. He’ll do fine, and be better for it down the road. Small farm growers are aging out in this country. We’ll need young blood to keep it going.”
“I have to make The Barn Yard profitable for him to be interested.”
“You keep insisting you will.”
If I had a man like you by my side, I would be sure of it. No, not a man like you, but you in particular. “I’m optimistic by nature.”
“I’ve noticed. And stubborn. That’s quite a one-two punch.” He pushed away from the door. “I’ll go start the charcoal.”
Annie watched him leave, wondering at his thoughtful mood, but decided not to try to make something of it. She turned back to the peach cobbler she’d started, relaxed and happy, humming, not thinking about the tune until it struck her.
She stopped singing for a moment, then smiled. Yes, it was nice to have a man around the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Annie didn’t tell Mitch why she and Austin were leaving early for the farmer’s market two days later. It would even be a surprise for Austin until they got into the truck. He could spend time with his friend Ben while Annie let herself be made over by Marissa.
It was the craziest thing she could remember doing. She’d picked up the phone several times to cancel then hung it up again. She knew Mitch was as attracted to her as she was, but she was thirty years old. It was time to let go of the makeup-free face and easy ponytail, at least when she wasn’t working in the fields.
Austin provided directions to Marissa’s house, which was in a hilly part of town. The houses in the neighborhood were about a hundred years old and large, with lots of rooms. Marissa’s home had great curb appeal, both the structure and the front garden, with plenty of blossoming plants.
So Marissa’s trip to the farm really hadn’t been about buying a bouquet from Annie but about forming a friendship, because she had a wonderful cutting garden herself.
“You have a green thumb,” Annie said as Marissa came down the porch steps, and Austin raced up them to where Ben was waiting.
“I don’t. My husband does. I kill plants just looking at them.” Her cheeks flushed a little. “I guess you figured out it was a total ruse coming to your place.”
“I’m honored.”
Marissa gave Annie a tour of the charming home, with its Victorian/shabby-chic design that suited her. A large family portrait in a gilded frame hung over the fireplace, providing Annie’s f
irst glimpse of Marissa’s husband, who was as opposite from Mitch as a man could be.
“That’s my sweet John,” Marissa said, smiling fondly at the portrait. He looked a good ten years older than she, with a sturdy build and bald head. His smile was framed by dimples and his eyes sparkled. He looked...content, she decided. Happy.
“You have a beautiful family,” Annie said.
“Thank you. I tried my hardest to push John away. He refused to go. Then he got me pregnant, so I couldn’t go, either. I know, I know. Maybe I sort of didn’t remind him about protection a few times. What can I say? After my divorce from Mitch, I thought I didn’t deserve to be loved, but John would have none of that.”
“He sounds wonderful.”
“He put up with a lot in the beginning.” She led the way to her bedroom, where the makeover would take place. “He was already a successful businessman when we met. He owned a company that produced a product made by only two companies in the world, and then he bought out the other one. Then he sold it. Now he could retire if he wanted. At forty-nine! It’s crazy. But of course, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He’s figuring out what he wants to do next.”
“How did you meet?”
“In Sacramento, where I’d moved after the divorce. He came into the beauty shop where I was working. His regular stylist had to leave unexpectedly, so I cut his hair. Yes, he had hair then, although not a lot. I was the one to convince him to shave off what was left. He could’ve done it himself from there on, but he came in every week, and every week he asked me out until he finally wore me down.”
She told Annie to sit on a stool she’d brought to her bathroom. “May I cut your hair a little? I’ll leave it long enough to pull into a ponytail, but give you a more modern look.”
Annie hadn’t had a professional cut in too many years to count. She occasionally trimmed her ends, but she knew it wasn’t even. She’d had Austin help the last time, but he’d been too nervous to finish. “Okay,” she said, blowing out a nervous breath.
“I won’t butcher it. I promise.”
Marissa dampened Annie’s hair and started in. Annie didn’t look in the mirror until her hair had been blow-dried and styled.
“Oh, I love it! I just love it.” She shook her head, the shoulder-length ends moving, fluttering, then settling again, looking even blonder and shinier. Only then did she look at the floor and frowned. “Where’d my hair go? You had to take a ton off. There’s only a little.”
Marissa dangled a clump, then put a rubber band around it. “We’ll donate this. There’s enough. I figured if I told you I’d be taking off eight inches you’d object. But you needed it.”
Next came the makeup. She didn’t put anywhere near as much on Annie as she used on herself, and Annie was pleased with the results. “You’re a magician.”
“Everyone needs a life skill.” Marissa smiled into the mirror, meeting Annie’s gaze. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Okay.”
“You never ask me about my first marriage, even though I’ve given you plenty of openings. Why is that? Does it remind you of your own? Does it still hurt too much?”
The direct question threw Annie. So far, she’d avoided lying. “That’s three questions,” Annie answered with a halfhearted smile. The truth was, she didn’t want to know. Not from her about him, or from him about her. She liked Marissa, and she’d fallen in love with Mitch. Both relationships seemed destined to fail.
She squeezed Marissa’s hand. “Mine ended only a year ago,” she said, hoping Marissa would think it was still too painful, as she’d guessed.
“Okay. Some other time.”
Annie glanced at an ornate little clock on the vanity and hopped up. “I need to get going. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure. Would it help if I send the boys with you to help set up?”
“Austin and I have it down to a science, but thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Ooh, la la,” Ginny Otta said when Annie climbed out of her truck. “Going to a ball, Cinderella?”
“I’m short a pair of glass slippers.”
“Oh, so those were yours? A prince was here looking for you, but he just left.”
Austin had climbed into the truck bed and was passing the booth pieces to her. “The fractured fairy tale of my life,” Annie said with a sigh.
Ginny laughed and went back to constructing her own booth. Brenna James came early, as usual, but this time was carrying a covered container. “Tell me what you think.”
She’d brought a green salad with blueberries, roasted slivered almonds, red onion and the shallot vinaigrette she’d spoken about the last time. Annie closed her eyes, savoring the flavors. “Perfect,” she said. “Absolutely perfect.”
“It was the special Saturday night. Everyone loved it. The fingerlings, too.”
“How did you fix them?”
“A combination of roasting and steaming, then tossed with a lemon, herb and olive oil dressing, very light, served hot, and alongside a perfect rib eye.”
“Beef? Really?”
“Organic doesn’t mean vegan. Have you heard of Ryder Ranch? It’s local.”
Annie stopped the sarcastic response that came to her first. “I’m familiar with them.”
“Do you know they’re one of only three cattle ranches in the country certified as humane and organic? Their beef is perfection. I don’t use anything but theirs. They have a closed herd. That matters to me.” She picked through the lettuce, filling a bag. “I’d like to have a meeting with you sometime soon. I think we could help each other out.”
It took Annie a few seconds to respond. She’d been stuck on the idea of the Ryders being humane about anything. “Anytime, Brenna.”
“Give me a week. I’m having company for a few days, plus I’ve got some thinking to do.”
“You sure do know how to tease a girl.”
Brenna smiled. “Speaking of girl, you’re looking young and rested.”
“I got my hair cut. A little makeup does wonders, too.”
“Mmm, yes, maybe.” She didn’t look convinced. “It’s something deeper than that. You look happy.”
I’m in love! Annie wanted to shout it to the rooftops. Her world was brighter, at times she even felt weightless. She found herself smiling more, talking more, not just to the vendors but the customers. The hours flew by. She was having a great time.
She also couldn’t wait to get home.
* * *
“Bring up that can of tar, wouldja, Adam?”
Mitch watched his brothers as they patched the barn roof then traipsed all over the rooftop seeking anything in need of sealing. He envied their ease on the roof, as sure-footed as goats on a mountain.
“I’m no roofer, Mitch,” Brody said, “but I don’t think this will hold more’n a couple more years. If that. It’s gotta be fifty years old, and it’s been repaired a lot.”
“I’ll tell her, thanks.” He was barbecuing an entire meal on the grill—trout that he and Austin had caught yesterday, potatoes, corn on the cob and a loaf of garlic bread, everything wrapped in foil. There was ice cream in the freezer, if any of them had room for it.
By the time dinner was done, so were his brothers. They washed up, loaded their plates and sat on the front porch as they demolished the food. They’d already put in a long day of work at the ranch before they’d come.
“You planning on comin’ home anytime soon?” Brody asked. “Dad’s expecting you for the hayin’ for sure, and Adam and I need to know if we should make other living arrangements.”
“What are your options?”
“Bunkhouse or Mom and Dad’s.”
“Neither one is good for privacy,” Mitch said, studying his corn as he considered their situation. “You don’t have girlfriend
s you can move in with?”
“I just broke up with Betsy. Adam’s never had a relationship longer’n two months.”
Adam shrugged. “So many girls. So little time.”
“Let’s not make a decision now,” Mitch said. “When I move home, we’ll talk about it.”
“So, will you be there for the hayin’?”
“Yeah.” He owed his father that much. Many hands were needed. Although some of their properties were miles away, he would make sure he stayed local so that he could come back to the farm each night.
“As long as it’s not next week,” Mitch said. Next week he hoped to be makin’ hay with Annie most of the time.
“Week after, looks like.”
“All right.”
From his spot curled up next to Mitch, Bo came to attention. A pickup approached, but from a distance it looked like most trucks in these parts.
“It’s Vaughn,” Adam said.
“Am I too late for dinner?” Vaughn asked as he climbed out of the truck.
“You’re too late to help, so you’re too late for dinner,” Brody said.
Vaughn held up two six-packs of beer. “Ice-cold.”
“Well, then, I guess we can make an exception.”
There was enough food left, and the four brothers, who hadn’t been together for three years, kicked back, told stories and enjoyed their lifelong connection.
Contentment, even happiness, washed over Mitch. It was good to be home. He’d missed his brothers, missed his life on the ranch, missed the comfort of knowing they had each others’ backs, anytime, anywhere.
“Anyone hear from little sister Jenny?” Mitch asked.
“I talk to her frequently,” Vaughn said. “She’ll be home for winter break, then she’ll go back for her last semester.”
“Who would’ve thought it?” Mitch wondered aloud. “She’ll have a degree in farm management. I always figured her for something in the arts, like Mom. She’s got talent there.”
“Hard to make a living as an artist,” Vaughn said. “She’s being practical.”
Around seven-thirty, Mitch chased his brothers off and cleaned up the dishes. He’d started waxing his truck earlier and went back to working on it. Soon Annie and Austin drove in.
