by Jo McNally
“I’m sorry for your loss, Nell. You’ve done more than live. You’ve thrived.” It was all Bree could think to say. They sat for a moment in silence before she continued, digging into a part of her past she rarely visited. “I was angry after my mom died. I wanted her to have the very best, and we simply couldn’t afford it. My dad was an auto mechanic, and I was mad at him for not making enough money to save her from cancer.” She took a deep breath and shook her head sadly. “I vowed never to feel that way again. I thought if I only had enough money, enough things...then I’d feel safe. That’s why I fought Damian so hard during the divorce to keep the house. He wanted it, but I thought I needed it.” It surprised her that now she was doubting that need.
“And your dad? Are you still mad at him?”
“No. We worked things out after Damian and I got divorced. Dad never liked Damian or our over-the-top lifestyle, but I think deep down he understood my need for the security I thought it brought.” She gave Nell a crooked grin. “And look at me now. I’ve got my mansion on the beach, and here I am hiding from some nut who wants to kill me. I’m less safe now than I was the day my mom died.”
The two women sat in silence for a long time, while the sun beat down on the farmyard outside the windows. The muffled hum of a tractor in the distance told them that Cole was still working hard in the heat of the day. Finally Nell stood and filled two bowls with vegetable soup. Bree sliced some of the cornbread they’d made the day before.
As they sat back down, Nell grinned at Bree, effectively shaking off their serious conversation. “So, girl, what do you say we do some more cooking this afternoon instead of working in that hot sun? How’d you like to learn how to make yeast bread and some sticky cinnamon buns today?”
She quickly agreed, eager to learn more of Nell’s cooking secrets. Bree loved to cook, which was how she’d moved into catering and event planning after her divorce. It was awkward catering parties in Hollywood where she used to be a guest. She didn’t like the way people looked down at her, or worse, pitied her. But she was a total foodie, and she was developing a real passion for the back-to-basics country cooking that Nell embraced.
The woman’s gentle strength and easy style were an inspiration. Every day, Nell taught her a new skill, from making Southern sweet pea salad to how to peel a tomato. Every night, Bree was writing notes and recipes. Nell pulled down a sack of flour from the pantry and started scooping it into a bowl while Bree poured a packet of yeast into a cup of warm water. The two women were developing a comfortable routine here in the kitchen.
“Is Maggie still visiting you at night?”
Bree grinned. “Every night since Sunday. She shows up around eleven and leaves before dawn. I don’t know why she does it, but I have to admit I’m sleeping better with her there.”
When she first heard the scratching at her door late Sunday night, she’d nearly jumped out of her skin. She was on the sofa reading her romance novel, and Sir Haverly had just entered lovely Rhiannon’s bedchambers at night. The unexpected sound from her porch made her drop the book, and she gingerly opened the door. Maggie bounded inside and made herself comfortable on the sofa where Bree had been sitting.
Her first thought was that Cole had to be outside, but she saw no sign of her neighbor in the darkness. She tried to shoo Maggie back outside, but the dog wouldn’t budge. She slept at the foot of Bree’s bed that night, waking her with a cold nose against her face before the sun rose. Bree let her outside and watched the dog trot happily across the road to Cole’s place. The whole episode was an otherworldly experience that she didn’t expect to be repeated.
But the next night brought Maggie back to her door a little after ten-thirty. Once again the dog stayed close to Bree then slipped away before dawn. Surely Cole was aware of Maggie’s nocturnal visits. If he was concerned about it, he would have let her know by now.
“I’ve never known Maggie to leave Cole alone at night.” Nell gave her a grave look as she reached for a pitcher of tea. “Maybe she thinks you need her more than he does.”
“I can’t imagine why. She’s been protecting Cole all these years, so why switch over to me now?”
“Maggie wasn’t Cole’s dog in Afghanistan. She was Scott’s. He and Maggie served under Cole. Scott was killed in the roadside bombing that sent Cole home for good, and Maggie was injured. He and Ty tracked her down after he got home.” Nell filled their glasses with tea. “She’s not a trained therapy dog, but she seems to know when people need her.”
Soon they had three braids of kneaded dough rising for the second time under a floured kitchen towel. Bree looked down at her scribbled notes, covered with buttery fingerprints, and smiled in contentment. The smell in the kitchen was intoxicating, and she reached for just one more pinch of raw dough. Nell slapped her hand with a laugh.
“Girl, you eat any more of that dough and you’re going to have one epic tummy ache.” Nell opened the door of the refrigerator and looked back over her shoulder. “You need to get out of the kitchen. Why don’t you take a jug of sweet tea over to Cole? The boy must be roasting out there in the sun.”
The steady chugging of his tractor was closer now. He’d been mowing the edges of the vast fields of young soybeans, which she knew because she’d been sneaking glances at him from the kitchen windows. She looked at Nell in suspicion, but Nell just laughed.
“It’s not unusual for me to take him tea or lemonade on a hot day, or for him to stop by for some. You’re a lot younger than me, and you can make the walk easier in this heat than I can. You don’t have to dance with the man, just give him some tea.” Nell filled a short, stout thermos with a handle on it. She tossed a few ice cubes in before closing it and handing it to Bree. There was really no reason for her to refuse, and she knew he needed to drink something if he was going to stay out there in the sun.
“Fine. But don’t do any more with the breads until I get back.” She took the thermos and grabbed her wide-brimmed hat from the table.
“Honey, this dough’s got another hour to rise. Take your time.”
Nell winked, and Bree just shook her head as she left. That woman was still trying to get her and Cole together, but it wasn’t going to happen. He was way too complicated and she was not in the market. Bree walked across Nell’s baked-dry yard and headed up Cole’s gravel driveway when she saw the tractor turning back toward her. She stopped, shielding her eyes against the sun with her arm while she watched him. He didn’t see her at first, too focused on looking back at the mower behind the big tractor. When he finally looked forward, he lifted his head with a start. He was still half a field away, but she felt his eyes burning into her. He was wearing jeans, which must have been sweltering hot, and a T-shirt, along with his ever-present ball cap. She raised the thermos, and he lifted his hand in a brief wave of acknowledgment as the mower clattered noisily behind him.
* * *
COLE ALMOST DROVE the tractor and Bush Hog straight into the ditch when he saw Bree standing there in his driveway. Only the sound of stones pinging off the whirring mower blades brought him back on course. She raised a thermos and he knew it contained Nell’s homemade sweet tea, but that tea had nothing on the sweetness of Bree’s sun-drenched body.
She was trouble. She was pushing and pulling him out of his safe, dark corner of life, and he wasn’t ready. Her floppy yellow hat fluttered in the hot wind, and she raised an arm to block the sun from her eyes. Her denim shorts exposed long, tanned legs, and a bright pink top clung to her curves.
She was...no, it couldn’t be...she was barefoot in the grass along the drive. He saw her pink sandals abandoned a few feet away. The sight of her toes wiggling in the grass reminded him to shut down the mower before he pulled the tractor to a halt next to her. He was just thinking she couldn’t possibly be any more enticing when he noticed a smudge of flour on her cheek. She was fresh out of the kitchen. Standing on his land. B
arefoot. With a thermos full of cold tea. This had to be what heaven looked like.
He put the tractor in neutral and stared down at her. She raised one eyebrow and shook the thermos.
“Don’t you want to come down and get some?” She had no idea how much he wanted to do just that. Her face flushed pink when she realized what she’d said, but he cut her off before she could clarify.
“Nope. I want you to come up here and bring me some.” Both her brows shot high. “Some sweet tea, that is.” He reached back and yanked his T-shirt over his head, using it to wipe the sweat from his face and arms, then he slid it back on, placing his cap back on his head. He held out his hand to her. She looked the tractor over, her gaze resting on the towering tires. “Come on. There are steps, and there’s plenty of room. Unless you’re too scared?”
He grinned as her eyes went from wide and doubtful to narrow and determined. Nell was right—the girl couldn’t pass up a challenge. She shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant, and approached the tractor cautiously. When she remembered she was barefoot, she turned back, but he stopped her.
“Those slippery sandals will be more dangerous than your bare feet. Come on. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.” She raised her eyes to his, and he realized what he’d just said. His pulse jumped. It was true. He’d never let anything bad happen to her. She started to smile as she handed the thermos up to him. He set it on the platform where his feet were resting and leaned down to take her hand.
“Use the steps there. Don’t step on that—it’s hot. That’s it. No, don’t grab that handle; you’ll start the mower. Just take my hand.” She was obviously trying to avoid doing that, but she finally put her hand in his. She let out a squeal as he yanked her up sharply, and she landed with a gasp next to him on the tractor seat. It wasn’t really meant for two, but it was wide enough that they could make it work. He was breaking so many common sense farming rules right now.
He reached down for the thermos and opened it, guzzling the refreshing tea and praying it would help settle his spinning thoughts. He could keep her safe, but who was going to protect him? When he finally lowered the container to take a breath, her eyes were sharp with humor.
“No, I didn’t want any tea. Thanks.”
“Oh, hell, I’m sorry. Here—there’s plenty left.” He tried to hand her the thermos.
She bumped him with her shoulder. “I was kidding. You must have been dying of thirst out here. How can you work in this heat?”
He frowned at her. “I’m used to it. But do you have sunscreen on? Are you okay?”
“I’m good, just a little amazed that I’m sitting here.” She looked around. “So is this the ‘big green tractor’ Mark was singing about the other night?”
“Yeah. Hey, about Saturday... I’m sor—” She cut him off before he could once again apologize to her. Her fingers pressed lightly on his lips, stopping his breathing along with his voice.
“Don’t. I’ve been scolding Nell about that all week.”
He just nodded in response and drained the container of tea, sighing as the cold drink hit his stomach. His body needed the hydration. He was feeling more in control, as long as he didn’t look down at the rounded cleavage right there at the top of her shirt.
“So, are you going to give me a ride or what?” Her cheeks flamed. “Damn it. Why does farming talk sound so dirty all the time?”
And that was when it happened. He heard an unfamiliar sound and realized it was coming from him. He was laughing. Out loud. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. But he couldn’t stop. His head tipped back and he laughed some more. It felt...good. She just stared at him in shocked silence, until he finally had to ask, “What?”
“I’ve never heard you laugh. Or seen you really smile. I didn’t think you were capable of either, to be honest. But they both look good on you.” She tipped her head back, holding her floppy hat in place with one hand, her emerald eyes locked on his in that way that made him feel like he was under interrogation lights. When she did that, he was afraid he’d just give her anything she wanted. He leaned back and managed to squelch his smile.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t happen often, so don’t get used to it. Now hang on. I’ll take you ’round the field and drop you at Nell’s.” She looked for something to grab onto as he started to put the tractor into gear. He gestured for her to rest one hand on the fender and the other on the back of the seat behind him. She braced her feet on the platform, carefully avoiding where his boot-clad feet rested on the clutch and throttle. The tractor moved forward with a jolt and she laughed as she was thrown back against him. Her wide-brimmed yellow hat sailed off her head, and her hair whipped across her face. This may have been a really bad idea, he thought as he pushed the lever forward to engage the mower.
But her enthusiasm was infectious as they headed down the side of the field, bouncing gently as the mower roared behind them. He found himself biting back a smile as he watched her on her perch. They headed beyond the barns, and she turned to shout a question at him.
“How much of this is yours?” She gestured ahead to the endless rows of soybeans sloping downward away from them.
“All of it. All the way to the river and a few miles along the road.”
“There’s a river?”
He nodded and shouted back. “It’s nothing big, but it has some nice fishin’ and swimmin’ holes.” The tractor rocked to the side as they moved over the uneven ground, and she fell into him, grabbing at his waist with the hand that had been on the seat. She left it on his side, clutching his T-shirt to balance herself.
“You mean like Mayberry? With a rope swing for jumping in the water?”
He nodded then glanced down at her. “Want to go swimming?”
She shook her head quickly. “No! I don’t like being in the water, especially when I can’t see the bottom.”
“You live in Malibu and you don’t swim in the ocean?”
“Nope. I like looking at it, but I can’t swim.” She shrugged. “It’s my one phobia, and yes, I know it’s a doozie for a California girl.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. Jumping into the water on a hot night with a bonfire blazing on shore and your friends there...well, it’s just about perfect.” His thoughts wandered. Where had that memory come from? When he glanced down at her, she looked horrified.
“You jump in that murky water in the dark? Are you crazy? What if there are rocks, or snakes? Don’t you have snakes down here?” She shuddered and somehow ended up even closer to him. He was pretty sure a groan escaped his lips, but she didn’t seem to hear it. “So was this your father’s land?”
“My great-granddaddy built the house I live in now.” He glanced back at the big square farmhouse.
“You and Ty grew up here?”
“Yeah. He still owns a share of the farm. And I own part of the bar. We’re partners in both.” He didn’t mention the trust fund created from his grandfather’s tobacco crops.
“Where are your parents?”
“Right now? Probably on the golf course or at the beach. They went to Hilton Head for a vacation a few years ago and never really came back. They love it, but it’s not for me. I don’t get golf.”
Her green eyes were laughing at him. “Yeah, I don’t really see you as the country club type.”
Look at him, making small talk on a tractor with a pretty girl from Hollywood. He changed the subject as he headed the tractor back toward the road.
“What are you and Nell baking?”
“How’d you know we were baking?”
“You’ve got flour on your cheek.”
She raised her hand to brush it away just as the tractor hit another rut. Without her hand on the fender, her body snapped sideways and she started to slide. Before she could let out much more than a squeak, he w
rapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back.
“Whoa, girl! Safety first. Besides, the flour looks good on you.”
She raised her head and stared at him in surprise.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying something nice? Or are you just setting me up again?”
He disengaged the mower, making things quieter so they didn’t have to shout at each other. He guided the tractor up Nell’s driveway and brought it to a halt.
“Let me reword that. Seeing flour on your face is funny. I’m guessing getting dusted with flour is another first?”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Cole, I wrote a book on entertaining. I know how to cook, and I occasionally even use flour in my recipes. I’m not a total bimbo just because I live in California.”
It was an unwelcome reminder that her presence here was temporary. He’d be a fool to allow anything to happen between them, no matter how tempting it was. He gave her a hard look.
“Yeah, well, the jury’s out on that one. I haven’t seen enough evidence to make me believe you aren’t any more than that.”
She lifted her chin and pulled herself free from his grip. “You really are an ass, Plowboy.”
He choked back a laugh. She was one brassy broad. And he knew she was just getting started. Before she could rip into him again, he gripped her forearm and swung her out from her seat, lowering her toward the ground as far as he could. When he released her, she only dropped a few more inches to land on her pretty bare feet. It happened so quickly that she just stared up at him as if she couldn’t figure out how she ended up down there.
