“Driving. Minding my own business,” I said pointedly.
He served up bacon and eggs, before pulling four slices of toast out of the toaster and putting them on a plate next to an open dish of butter and a knife.
“Thanks.” I dug in straight away. The first bite of bacon, dipped into liquid yellow egg yolk, danced a riot on my tongue. Perfection. I loved food like this, although I usually had a banana or a granola bar for breakfast, because they were cheap and it was easy to eat them while driving.
A lot of my life-choices came down to the simple question, “Can I do it at fifty miles per hour?” On the prairies in Oklahoma that had been a heck of a lot easier than driving mountain passes in Colorado. Although, the van was usually a lot slower going uphill, anyway, because my engine’s torque wasn’t great for inclines.
“You come down here all by yourself?”
I sighed. “Is that so hard to believe? Girls can drive too, y’know.”
He speared some bacon and chewed it before replying. “But that old thing? What d’you do when the engine goes? You must spend a lot of time waiting for triple-A.”
“Would if I had a membership, I suppose. A toolbox and a manual were cheaper.” And it saved me the time and effort of standing around wringing my hands waiting for a man to save me.
He laughed out loud, and I couldn’t decide if he thought I was joking about fixing my van or if he was laughing because I’d just blown his assumptions out of the water.
“You really fix that thing yourself?” He looked at me thoughtfully, like he was re-thinking whatever he’d first decided when he found me in his way.
I nodded. “It’s not hard. Engines were pretty simple back then. The trick is to get a van that doesn’t need a lot of welding. That stuff takes time and it has to be done right. Everything else is done by following a step-by-step process.
“I got a truck out back that won’t start. Think you could get it going?”
“How old is it?” Modern vehicles needed computers and other nonsense to make them run, and I didn’t want to mess up someone’s warranty, either.
“Seventies.”
I nodded. “I can take a look.”
“That would be very neighborly of you.”
I laughed at the insinuation that my van and I were staying around.
“What’s your name anyhow?”
“Harper.”
“I’m Barrett. I’m in charge of the cows.”
“You’re a cowboy? Like, your job is ‘cowboy’?” My face must have been covered in disbelief, because I didn’t even know that was a real job.
“Well, I’m thirty-one, so I suppose I’m more of a cowman, and we don’t technically have any milkers here, but close enough.”
“The closest I’ve ever been to a cow is after it’s on a plate,” I confessed.
“Well, you leave the cattle wrangling to me, and I’ll let you work on the truck, how’s that sound?”
I nodded. “I’m more at home around vehicles.”
“How’s breakfast?”
I smiled with real warmth this time. “It’s fantastic. Thank you. It’s the first home-cooked meal I’ve had in years.”
“Don’t you cook?”
I shrugged. I knew how people felt about women who didn’t like to cook their own food. It was one of those things I’d always be judged for, but I resented spending time making food when I could be traveling instead. “I fix my van and drive it to the nearest diner.”
“What’d you do if there was no diner?”
“There’s always a diner. And I don’t need to be a gourmet chef to survive without one.”
He paused for a moment before speaking again. He gestured to the desert.
“Have you seen a road with so much dust and sand?”
I broke out in a grin. He was feeding me a line from a Johnny Cash song and I knew just how to reply. “I’ve been everywhere, man.” I hadn’t, but it was how the song went.
“And yet, you’re still going. Where you headed?”
“I’m heading to the west coast.” I was deliberately vague. It was a habit, when talking to guys. Even the hot ones could become a clingy, unwanted problem showing up in a few days’ time and making out like it was one big coincidence. I didn’t believe in coincidences. I believed people were manipulative and selfish, and that it was best to say goodbye before they ever got a chance to hurt me.
“California?”
“Sure. Why not?” Let’s pretend Harper is heading somewhere in California. This guy was trying out different boxes on me, hoping to find one that fit. If he wanted to think I was a dreamer trying to get to LA or ‘Frisco, that was up to him. I needed to be safe more than I needed to set the record straight.
“You don’t sound so sure.”
I shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
“Just curious, I guess.”
I didn’t like when conversations got one-sided like this. People who asked too many questions annoyed me. I didn’t ever feel the need to do it. If people wanted to volunteer something about themselves, I’d listen, but I wouldn’t interrogate them about it. It wasn’t a lack of curiosity, I just didn’t like prying.
“What’d you study in college?” he asked next. That was it.
“What did you study? What’re your life plans? Why can’t you fix an engine but you can ask me why I can’t cook? Yeesh!”
Barrett eyed me like he was thinking on how to react.
“I’m just trying to be friendly.”
“Well it’s not friendly. It’s”—I flailed for a word and settled on something inadequate—"snoopy. And it feels like you’re judging me when you’ve no right to. Where’s this truck, anyway?”
“You hiding something?”
“No.” Yes. Myself. From the rest of the world. I kept moving, because if I stood too still, people would notice me and deem me inadequate. I liked being alone with my thoughts and feelings. I wasn’t clawing over other people to succeed at an office job, so I didn’t fit in with big city people, and I hated the idea of settling down, so I didn’t fit in with everyone else.
Chapter 3
“She’s the only one who can drive my truck.” — Brett Myers, Drive My Truck.
Harper
Barrett showed me to the truck. The familiar scent of burnt oil greeted me when I popped the hood. That smell was like putting on an old pair of slippers. It was comfortable, and probably the closest thing to home I’d ever known. I looked over the engine as my thoughts ran riot.
When I turned the ignition, the engine didn’t even try to start, although the lights on the dashboard appeared to be fine. Not the battery, then.
“I need to get my tools from my van.” I left Barrett standing by the truck as I crunched on the stony dirt driveway all the way to where he’d blocked my van from leaving. I grabbed my bag of tools and headed back. He was still standing there.
“How long is it since anyone drove this?” I put my tool bag down on the dusty concrete with a clanking sound.
“’Bout a year.”
“Battery’s in good shape.” I looked through my bag for my flashlight. Barrett stood awkwardly to one side, the way men usually do when a woman is looking at their car. It’s not really a sexist thing. I think they do it out of embarrassment and a wish to understand something they’re told from a young age they should innately be good at. Either way, I just tuned him out.
There was clearly something wrong with the starter motor. Looking down the back of the engine, I saw one of the wires had come loose.
“Why didn’t anyone call out a mechanic?” I wondered.
“There isn’t one in Snake Eye, so the nearest place is a fair drive. Anyways, we all had newer, better trucks, so we decided we’d get around to fixing it one day, but one day never came.”
“I’m sure you’ve got tons of important things to do. I’ll let you know if I need help here.”
“Okay. But don’t you go getting no ideas about driving off in that thing.”
“Why would I? This has wheels, but it doesn’t even come close to my van.”
Although now I thought about it, it might be able to pull my van out of the sand. I looked at the engine, smiled and shook my head. Probably didn’t have enough pulling power.
Barrett shrugged and wandered off to do something cow-related, I guessed, and I shined a flashlight at the starter motor.
I had a battery powered soldering iron that would be perfect for this. It would be easier to do it from underneath, except I wasn’t a fan of laying down under hot solder. I was allergic to hot liquid metal dripping in my eye. I stretched over, working on it from above, and carefully eased myself back out again in time to catch Barrett, standing behind me, his eyes moving away from where my ass had been a moment ago.
“It needs a minute to dry,” I told him, holding up the soldering iron.
There was an awkward moment where we both looked at each other, and the expression on his face told me he knew I had noticed him staring at my butt.
“Barrett? Barrett!” A huge man in blue jeans and a very tight green t-shirt marched over to us with fire in his eyes. When he spotted me, he literally took a step backwards as he tried to rein himself in. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t see you there.”
“What can I do, Lawson?” Barrett asked. Lawson lost it again almost immediately.
“You can move your damn truck! I gotta get Alana to the hospital and your Ford’s blocking the driveway!”
I couldn’t stop myself from grinning pointedly. The exact thing Barrett had gotten mad at me for doing, he’d done himself.
“Is she... already?” Barrett sounded stunned.
“No. She’s not due for awhile but she needs her regular check-up and we can’t miss that appointment. Move your truck,” Lawson growled. “Please,” he added. He lifted his hat to me as he strode back toward the houses clustered together at one end of the farmyard.
Barrett swore and ran off to move his truck. I went to check the engine on the one I was fixing. The starter motor was fine now, but the engine wasn’t turning over at an even pace; the sound was off. I left it idling for a few minutes in case it just needed to warm up, but I doubted it in this heat.
“She’s fixed?” Barrett asked when he came back.
“No. She’s starting. There’s something wrong with the engine.”
Barrett—bless his heart—looked at the engine as if the problem was visible from the outside.
“Looks fine to me.”
“Listen.” I was quiet for a moment, giving him a chance to take in the sound. “It’s not sounding even. This isn’t one of those tiny three-cylinder European things. It’s not supposed to sound like this.”
“What’s wrong with it, then?”
“Could be a couple of things. My best guess would be the spark plugs need replacing. Given how long it’s been here, I’d change the oil, too. You got an auto parts store nearby?”
Barrett shook his head. “Nearest’s Gila Bend.”
“Can you drive me there?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Why don’t you tell me what you need, and I’ll get Jake to go get it for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “This is ridiculous. I’ve got the motor running. My van’s still buried in sand. What more d’you want from me? What do you think I’ll do at the auto parts shop? Sneak out the back and hitch a lift somewhere? Either take me to get the parts or decide you don’t want this truck fixed properly.”
“I don’t have time to take you to Gila Bend. I got cattle to watch.”
“This is bullshit. You don’t even want this truck to work, do you? You just want to push me around and make me stay here! Screw this.” I turned and marched to the houses, hammering on the door where I’d seen the other guy disappear.
A heavily pregnant woman answered, and frowned in confusion when she saw me.
“Can I help you?” She looked about ready to go out and I felt guilty about stopping her.
“Don’t worry yourself, Alana, I got this,” Barrett growled.
I ignored him. “The guy that lives here... does he own this place?”
“Uh... yeah. Him and his brother,” she said.
“Can he explain why his cowboy is keeping me here against my will? He said he wanted his truck fixed before he’d let me go, but now he’s refusing to take me to the store to get auto parts.”
Alana’s eyes widened and she grabbed my wrist, pulled me into the house and slammed the door in Barrett’s face.
“I have no idea what Barrett is thinking, but I’m going to go get Lawson to straighten this whole thing out,” she promised me.
Barrett
Well, I sure messed this whole day up. Lawson and Alana had to go out, but they left Clay in charge of getting to the bottom of what was going on between me and Harper. We were all sat around the kitchen table at Clay’s place.
“So, she parked over the farm access, and instead of pointing out what she’d done, and telling her to leave, you blocked her van—causing Lawson and Alana problems going to the hospital—and told her she couldn’t leave until she did a day’s work on the ranch?”
“That’s correct.” I was fired. I was so fired.
“But you didn’t have any real jobs for her to do, so you got her to fix that ancient truck out back, which she got started against all odds. Then she told you she needed auto parts, and you refused to let her get them.”
“Yes.”
“That’s the part I don’t understand,” Clay said, running his hand over his stubble. “If you wanted the truck fixed, what was wrong with taking her to get the parts it needed?”
I sighed and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Now I had to face the difficult facts of the matter. I’d wanted to keep her here ever since I’d seen her waking up this morning. For some reason, her entire existence made me want to control her. I’d never been moved to act like that before. She was just so prickly and disorganized and chaotic... she was like a wild rabbit, running, always running, and I wanted to catch her and show her she didn’t need to run no more. I’d been scared that if I took her off the ranch, even to the store, she’d be gone soon.
Oh jeez. What had I done? I’d tried to catch the wild rabbit, and instead I’d scared her off. My heart burned like I’d drank whisky, as I realized I had to let her go, before I’d ever had a chance to show her it was safe not to flee so quickly.
I could save face and make an excuse about needing to stay on the ranch with the steers, but Clay would see straight through that. He knew my job allowed for plenty of time in the day to run errands or take a break. Right now, I had to be completely honest. Especially with myself.
“I feel like an ass,” I said with my head in my hands.
“Good, now I think you need to get her back on the road and let her go. And hope to God she doesn’t sue us for something.” Clay’s words were sobering.
Harper shook her head. “I’ll finish fixing the truck. I said I would. I just need to get to the store for those parts. And my van’s beached in some sand at the moment so I can’t drive myself.”
My eyes went out of focus for a moment as they moved to look at her. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. She’d stay? And fix the truck, too? I mean, in the interests of being honest with myself, I knew I could care less about the truck but I wanted her here. And she seemed to care about that old engine.
“You want to stay?” I repeated.
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m only staying until the truck is working.”
I exchanged a look with Clay.
“Ma’am, would it be too much trouble for you to sign something saying you’re not going to sue us for keeping you here?” he asked.
I groaned and banged my head on the table.
Harper
The truck ride to Gila Bend was awkward. I didn’t know how much trouble I’d just gotten Barrett into, but I was guessing it was a lot. His bosses didn’t seem too pleased with the fact he’d kept me here. Then again, I wasn’t too happy a
bout it, either.
Everyone else at Lemon Tree Ranch seemed reasonable enough, which was reassuring. I didn’t think they’d let Barrett keep me here forever. For some reason, knowing I could leave at any time made me want to stay. Just until the Chevy was repaired.
“Here.” He parked in a lot surrounded by several stores. I got out and began walking, expecting him to follow me, but he just stayed in the driver’s seat. He was backing off, and while it assured me he wasn’t going to smother me anytime soon, it also made me feel a little disappointed.
Did I want to be chased by the grumpy cowboy?
I hadn’t mentioned the way he’d spanked my ass earlier. Clay and Lawson didn’t need to know about that, or if they did, they could hear it from Jake, the horse guy. Even while I was trying to get this mess straightened out, I’d felt myself holding back, not unleashing my frustration about everything Barrett had done. Was I trying to protect him? Why hadn’t I just left after Clay had told Barrett to pull my van out of the sand?
I was distracted when I went into the store. An overly-helpful assistant leapt into my path.
“Hey, ma’am, what can I get you?”
“It’s fine, I’ll find my way around.”
“You want an air freshener?” Oh, great, he was trying to figure me out.
“Nope.” I kept walking until I found the spark plugs.
“You been sent to get somethin’ for your old man?”
I sighed. “Young man,” he was a couple years older than me, “I told you I’ll find my way around and I meant it.”
“But I can help you.”
I turned and gave him a look that began at the top of his head, went quickly down to his shoes then ended at his eyes. “Shoo.” I waved a hand. I didn’t need to prove myself to this guy.
“Hank?” An older voice barked out.
“Pop?”
“You harassin’ the ladies ag’in?”
A man with shoulder-length iron gray hair stepped out from the back, and I watched the younger man squirm.
“I was just tryin’ to help,” he grumbled.
His pop walked up to him, in a light blue plaid shirt and faded denim 501s, and cuffed him around the head as if he were a kid.
Make Me Stay (Arizona Heat Book 2) Page 2