The disappointment in her voice grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. It felt like he’d just turned his back on a helpless kitten. Damn, hell and crap. “I’m not that busy. I’ll give it a look.”
“Really? I appreciate it so much. Thanks.”
He got directions, said he’d be right over, then disconnected the call and saved her number to his phone, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Suddenly Fiona O’Reilly had become his business and it ticked him off that Luke had been so right, so soon.
* * *
Fiona waited for Mr. Fix-it on the front porch. The interior of the O’Reilly family’s rambling ranch house wasn’t big enough for her and the nerves jumping around inside her. She hadn’t expected to see him at all and definitely not this soon. It made her wonder if fate was taking a page from Luke Stockton’s matchmaking book or just having a laugh at her expense.
She saw a black F-150 truck turn off the main road and head toward the house. That was a cue for the nerves to stop the jumping jacks, pull together and form a knot in her stomach. Why was she being such a twit? He was just another guy and didn’t even want to be here. She’d practically twisted his arm and he was simply doing it as a favor because she’d played the “Dad asked me to call you” card. Paddy O’Reilly would survive if Brendan had said no. But Brendan didn’t know that and now she had to see him.
The truck stopped in front of her and she noticed his Texas license plate in a United States Marine Corps frame. Pulling her denim jacket tighter against the chilly north wind, she left the porch to meet him as he exited the truck. Then he grabbed a red toolbox from the rear bed.
“Hey, thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” Politely he touched the brim of his Stetson. “If you’ll point me in the right direction, I’ll take a look at the tractor.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything? I’ve got an extra to-go mug. My father and brothers, Ronan and Keegan, use them all the time.” She was babbling and he was letting her. It wasn’t easy but she stopped talking.
“No coffee. Thanks anyway.”
“Okay. The tractor is parked in the shed down there next to the stable.”
“This is a nice spread,” he said as they walked. “I saw the sign as I drove in. Rusty Bucket Ranch. Interesting name.”
“Kind of whimsical but down to earth.” She smiled up at him. “My ancestors emigrated from Ireland. They made their living from the land and wanted to do that in America. So they came West and found this property. After buying it, as the tale goes, they had nothing left but a rusty bucket. The name stuck.”
“And they prospered.”
“Yeah. We have all this.” She gazed from the white, split rail corral fence and stable to the other ranch buildings and the barn her brothers had converted into their living space. “And a tractor that won’t start.”
“Let’s see what we can do to change that.” He followed her into the shed.
“You can set your toolbox on the worktable there.” She went to the other end and opened the doors to give him more light, then came back. Her breath caught when she saw that he’d removed his long-sleeved flannel shirt. The olive green T-shirt he wore under it was snug and fit him like a second skin that highlighted every luscious muscle.
She swallowed, then said, “So, here she is. Sorry about the tool explosion there. My dad left all his stuff out. He was going to take another look at it. Just between you, me and the goats, that would involve less looking and a lot more colorful language. When he’s working on this tractor, the words run more to the four-letter variety.”
While she nattered on, he’d opened the side panel to inspect the inside. Without looking up, he said, “What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve been known to swear, but only when necessary. And always in a ladylike way.” She heard him chuckle and that brought a smile to her face. Resting her back against the workbench, she settled in to keep him company. Hand him tools. Admire the way his back muscles moved and bunched under that snug shirt. Check out his world-class butt in the worn jeans. “And I guess I also have a way with words that are more than four letters.”
“How’s that?” He didn’t look up but kept poking around in the tractor engine.
“I write freelance articles about ranch life for farm and outdoor magazines.”
“What kind of articles?”
“A recent one was about recycling bent nails, rusty hinges and old bottles. A rancher’s motto is ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.’”
“I know all about that,” he said wryly.
She remembered him saying he’d grown up making do. “I’m working on an article now about preparing for the winter. Cold weather in Montana isn’t for sissies.”
“I bet.”
“So, between my writing job and chores on the ranch, I keep pretty busy.”
“Sounds like it. A good life.”
“It is. I love what I do.”
“You’re lucky.”
She couldn’t see his expression but there was a wistful tone in his voice. Since he had his head buried in the engine, this might be a good time to ask some of the questions that had been rolling around in her mind when she couldn’t sleep last night.
She’d hoped he would open up a little while ago when she called, but he didn’t. Maybe he would now. What was the worst that could happen? He’d take his tools and go home? She was willing to risk it.
“So, dinner last night was awkward. Did you notice how we got paired off?”
“Yup.” He still didn’t look at her. “This morning when I was helping with chores, Luke asked what I thought about you.”
“No. Really? What did you say?” That was unexpected.
“I told him you make a mean macaroni.”
And? Her heart skipped a beat waiting for...what? Didn’t matter because he didn’t come through with more. “At least you didn’t say I was mean.”
“Actually, I said you seem nice.”
“I think I am. But Luke was probably just making polite conversation. Not necessarily matchmaking.”
“There’s more. He underlined the fact that you’re single and I’m single.”
“And?” she prompted.
“And I asked him why you’re still single.”
“What did he say?”
“That I should ask you. So, why are you still single?”
“Because I’m not married,” she said.
“Smart-ass. So why aren’t you married?”
If that question had come up at dinner last night she would have been angry and defensive. With so many people watching her reaction, it would have felt too much like the public way she’d found out the man she’d expected a proposal from had cheated on her and gotten a girl pregnant. But now they were alone, and Brendan wasn’t even looking at her, so it felt like the solitude of the confessional.
“So many reasons for being single,” she started. “I’m too old—pushing thirty, a spinster by Old West standards. Not thin enough. Men seem to like stick women who have to run around in the shower to get wet. On top of that there are no men here in Rust Creek Falls—”
“Don’t look now but—” Without turning he lifted a greasy hand. “Man. Says so right on my driver’s license.”
“Okay. That last one deserves some context. I grew up in Rust Creek Falls. Spent my whole life here and most of the guys have, too. They’re friends of Ronan and Keegan and, by extension, like my brothers. So...ew. It’s too weird. That makes meeting men a challenge.”
“Okay. I respect your honesty.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Luke was just doing his part, then.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “Look at you paying attention and participating in the conversation.”
“I’ve been told I’m too quiet. So I’ve been making an effort since I got out.”
By “out” she assumed he meant leaving the military. Since he was doing his best to take part, she’d give him an opportunity to share. Maybe the fact that he was elbow-deep in a tractor engine would help.
“I noticed your license plate holder. So you were a marine?”
“Yup. From Prosperity, Texas.” He picked up a tool from the workbench beside him. “I loved the Corps. It was a good career.”
She could hear respect, reverence and regret in his tone. And, frankly, he sounded a little lost. “Why did you leave, then?”
“My dad got sick. Cancer. I came home to be with him.”
“That must have been a difficult time. I bet you miss him.”
His movements stilled for a moment. “Yeah.”
Fiona knew about Luke and Eva’s plan to offer a stay at Sunshine Farm to someone going through a hard time in order to pay their happiness and good luck forward. They were always looking for someone in need of a fresh start. With these bits of information Brendan had revealed, she could see why they’d opened their arms to him. “So you’re trying to figure out what to be when you grow up?”
He didn’t answer but straightened from his troubleshooting position over the engine and climbed up on the tractor. The key was in the ignition and he turned it. Instantly the engine rumbled to life. He nodded. Anyone else would have pumped their arm or woo-hooed in triumph. A victory boot scoot wouldn’t be out of the question, either. But not this man. His reaction was quiet satisfaction.
He turned off the machine and climbed down. “Mission accomplished.”
“What did you do?”
“There were some wires way down in the belly, hard to see, right next to the housing for—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “My head will explode if you say one more word.”
“Okay.” He grinned as he grabbed a rag and wiped the worst of the grease off his hands.
The look was so darn cute it liquefied her brain cells. That’s when she realized talking to him without eye contact was much easier. Pull it together, Fiona, she told herself. “If my dad wants to know what you did I’ll just have him call you.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously, though, thank you so much. Come on up to the house and I’ll give you a check for your work. What do I owe you?”
Without missing a beat he said, “Dinner.”
That surprised her. This was business and usually that involved taking payment for one’s work. So maybe she’d misunderstood. “I’d be happy to buy you dinner, but—”
He shook his head. “A gentleman would never let a lady pay. I want to buy you dinner.”
She almost blurted out, “Shut the front door,” but managed to hold back. “Let me get this straight. You fixed my dad’s tractor and want to take me to dinner as payment?”
“Yes. Tomorrow night. On one condition.”
“What?” she asked, a little suspicious now.
He grabbed his flannel shirt, slung it over his broad shoulder by one finger and met her gaze. “Just you and me. No family.”
He wanted to be alone with her? Pinch me, she thought. This had to be a dream. A handsome man, single and sexy, was asking her out to dinner? This was shocking. She’d been so sure he was running away from her last night.
“Fiona?”
“Oh. Right.” She smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Is that okay?”
Heck, yes. But all she said was, “That would be fine.”
What in the world was she going to wear?
Chapter Three
What had he been thinking?
“Tanner, you’re an idiot. Asking the woman to dinner. In payment for services rendered, no less.” And now he was talking to himself. The downward spiral into hell was picking up speed and momentum.
His father must be turning over in his grave about this. He could just hear it. That’s no way to make a living. Since when do we not take money for our work?
Since the woman he did the work for looked like Fiona. That smile... When the tractor engine sputtered to life, she’d looked at him again as if he’d hung the moon. A man could get used to that.
“Knock, knock.”
Brendan turned away from his workbench and saw an older woman standing in the doorway. She was probably in her sixties, not very tall and had shoulder-length silver hair. There was spitfire in her eyes and a blender in her arms.
She moved closer and looked up at him. “Are you Brendan Tanner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She held out her hand. “Edna Halstead.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. Luke Stockton says you can fix anything.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m pretty good at repairs.” He nodded at the small appliance she was holding. “Having trouble with that?”
“Blasted thing just quit. They don’t make things like they used to. It’s practically new.”
“That’s always the way. I’ll see what I can do.”
She handed it over. “Just when I got my husband to drink protein shakes, too.”
“I’m guessing he’d be just as happy if I couldn’t fix this.” He put the base and pitcher on the workbench then looked back at her still staring at him. “Was there something else?”
“Mind looking at it now? I’d rather not make another trip out here. Unless you’re too busy...”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. I wouldn’t expect it would take long. It isn’t the space station. If it’s a goner, I expect you’ll know that right away.”
“Yeah.” He picked up a small screwdriver to take apart the base.
“I don’t expect a lifetime warranty,” she said. “Still, you should get a little more time out of something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s not expensive to get another one, but just on general principle I don’t want to do that.”
“No, ma’am.” He checked out all the connections and the cord, then cleaned and tightened anything that looked to be loose while the woman chattered away.
“The thing is, my husband, J.T., and I are retired and on a fixed income, so we have a budget.”
“Understood.”
“Are you military, Mr. Tanner?”
“Was.” And he missed it, even more after losing his dad. He missed his brothers. Missed doing work that was important. Now he had no mission, no focus except to be in the best possible physical shape for reenlisting.
“What branch of the service?” Her eyes glittered with interest.
“Marine Corps.”
“Semper fi. Your service is much appreciated and welcome home.”
“Thank you.” He stopped working and met her gaze. “Were you in the military?”
She shook her head. “Only by marriage. J.T. was a marine.”
“Vietnam?”
“Did my age give it away?” she teased.
“No, ma’am. What is it they say? Fifty is the new forty?”
She laughed. “I’m a little north of that. Almost seventy. And you know it.”
“Doesn’t show. And what I know is a lot of service members who served their country during that conflict were never properly welcomed home. That wasn’t right.”
“No.” Her mouth pulled tight for a moment. “Since then folks have learned to separate service to country from politics. Hopefully that will never happen again. Some make the ultimate sacrifice. Others live with physical disabilities.”
Something in her expression said she knew about that. “Your husband?”
“He lost a leg—above the knee.”
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me that. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel like I lived through the Revolutionary War. Edna, Ed or Eddie will
do.”
“Yes, ma—” He saw her glare and stopped. “Eddie.”
“Good choice.” She grinned. “And don’t be feeling sorry for J.T. He’s taken it in stride, if you’ll pardon the pun. He’s one tough marine. The few—”
“The proud. The Marines,” he finished.
“Oorah.”
He closed up the blender base. “There’s no real obvious sign of trouble. I tightened a few loose wires and made sure the rest was shipshape. Let’s plug it in and see.”
“Sure do hope you’re as good as Luke claims.”
“Here goes.” He saw her cross her fingers.
He plugged in the blender and with one last look at her he pushed a button. The thing came to life and the woman smiled her appreciation.
“Looks like you’re back in the protein shake business,” he told her. “Hope your husband is happy, too.”
“He’d rather have his bacon, eggs and fried potatoes. But we have a deal. A healthy breakfast earns a scoop of ice cream after dinner.”
“Seems fair.”
“He doesn’t think so but we both know who the commanding officer is.”
“Skipper.” Brendan saluted. “Only an idiot would mix it up in a skirmish like that.”
“Speaking of idiots...” There was a gleam in her eyes. “What woman did you ask to dinner?”
He froze. “What?”
“You were mumbling to yourself about it when I came in.”
“You heard that?” he asked.
“It’s a popular misconception that all old people are hard of hearing. For the record, there’s nothing wrong with my ears. You apparently are having second thoughts about asking a woman to dinner. So I’d like to know what woman we’re talking about and I can tell you whether or not you’re right about being an idiot.”
He already knew he was. He momentarily toyed with the idea of saying we weren’t talking about anything, but something told him Eddie Halstead would have a big problem with that response.
Unmasking the Maverick Page 3
