Mercedes took one look at the knob in his hand and started to laugh.
Poor Aiden. It would be him who broke the sink.
“I guess we owe you a faucet too.” Whitney’s sigh was chock full of memories of all the other things Aiden had broken over the years. He wasn’t a klutz. On the contrary, he had a lot of natural grace, especially on the football field. He just had bad luck.
“At this rate ...” Mercedes wiped at her eyes. She’d laughed so hard she’d cried. “You’ll end up buying us a new house.”
“Aiden Michael Bauer, I swear you are a disaster waiting to happen.” Whitney put her hands on her hips.
Mercedes looked at Aiden with fondness. She waved her hand. The kitchen sink was no big deal. Truth be told, she’d trade a hundred sinks for a kid like Aiden. He was priceless. “It’s not his fault this place is falling apart. There’s a reason we came out to fix it up.” Mercedes moved to get up and both Chet and Aiden offered her a hand.
“I guess he’ll be back tomorrow to help fix the sink.”
“That would be great. I’m sure it was just a broken washer or a rusted bolt.” She smiled at the two of them and let them help her to her feet. “If you want, I’ll wait to finish the railing until you get here,” she said to Aiden.
“Yeah. I’d like to see how it comes together.”
“Great.”
Water trickled down her face and Chet brushed it away, not thinking about what he was doing until his fingers touched her velvet cheek. He pulled his hand back quickly, hoping to avoid another air-crackling moment with more witnesses.
“I should get going.” He took a step back and bumped into Aiden. “I have to … um … feed the horses.” He looked around the room. The fastest exit was out the back door. “Thanks for dinner.” He glanced at the cookies he hadn’t had a chance to eat and earned a knowing grin from Mercedes.
“I’ll help,” said Aiden. “Mom, will you pick me up at Uncle Chet’s?”
“Yeah—try not to break anything while you’re there.” She stopped him for a hug, and he gladly accepted it. Whitney might come down hard on the kid, and Aiden did try her patience, but she loved him like crazy.
Chet hurried out to his truck.
Aiden hopped in the passenger seat and Chet fired up the old engine.
“Are you coming back tomorrow?”
Chet considered it. “I wasn’t invited. You were.”
“Mercy would have asked you if you hadn’t run off so fast.”
“I don’t think so. She got kind of angry when I …” Chet stopped before he could say “almost kissed her.”
“She wasn’t angry at you.”
“How could ya tell?”
Aiden shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can. She wasn’t yelling at you or anything. It’s more like she’s a horse that’s been whipped and is skittish.”
Chet slammed on the brakes and they both flew forward. “You think she was abused?!” His hands gripped the steering wheel, twisting the leather cover.
“Not whipped like that.” Aiden slid back in the seat and put on his seatbelt. “I mean, she got dumped or something. Her heart is, I don’t know, fragile.”
“Huh.” Chet pressed the gas. He didn’t know what Mercedes’s life in Boston was like. For all he knew, she could have been married.
“You should ask her out.” Aiden placed his hand on the dash to brace himself in case Chet slammed on the brakes again.
“I don’t know if that will work. She doesn’t seem like she wants to date.” He flashed back to his humiliation in the IFA parking lot.
“Then come over tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll give her some space.”
“That’s a bad idea, Uncle Chet.”
Chet thought it was a brilliant idea. He would take his time getting to know Mercedes and not scare her off by asking her out again. When she was ready to date, he’d be there ready to ask. “Why?”
“A girl that pretty won’t be single for long.”
Chet felt a weight settle in his gut.
Sam had already made a go for her, and there were several other guys in town that would take one look at Mercedes and want to snatch her up. Aiden was right, but Chet had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.
Chapter 12
After Chet and Aiden left, Mercedes cleaned up the water in the kitchen while Cat and Whitney brought in two loaves of homemade wheat bread, some pulled pork for sandwiches, and a container of potato salad.
“Thanks again for the cooking lessons. I can’t wait to try it on my own. Maybe one day I’ll start a blog—like the ones Mercedes reads all the time about life in the country.”
Whitney smiled. “It’s no big deal. I was making it anyway.” She put her arm around Cat. “It’s nice to have another girl in the kitchen. My boys are great, but I sure loved having someone who would listen to me go on and on about activating yeast.”
They shared a laugh.
Mercedes was happy that Cat had a good afternoon. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the small kitchen, and her stomach rumbled. If she was hungry, she could only imagine how hungry Chet and Aiden were. She felt guilty for working them right through dinner and then only giving them a few cookies. There was more than enough food; perhaps she could sneak some down to Chet.
Mercedes fished the truck keys out of her overalls and offered them to Whitney. “Thank you so much. I don’t know how we would have gotten everything here without the truck, and ...” She paused, being careful to say this right. “Aiden was a huge help. He worked hard and listened to instructions. I’m grateful he was here today.”
Whitney’s eyes softened. “You don’t know how nice it is to hear that. He’s a good kid, but it’s a different world than I grew up in—sometimes I feel lost trying to help him stay on the Straight and Narrow.” She paused. “And he’s so darn sure he’s got a handle on it all, it makes me want to scream.”
“Well, you’re obviously doing something right. I’d take five just like him any day.”
Whitney wagged her finger. “Be careful what you wish for!” She took the keys and Cat walked her to the door.
While she was out of the kitchen, Mercedes loaded a plate with two sandwiches and a huge helping of potato salad. She put several cookies in a zip-top bag and met Cat in the hall. “Can I take the car? Chet forgot ...” Her mind went over the possibilities. “A couple of his tools. I want to run them up to him.”
“Sure.” Cat handed over the keys and went to the kitchen. “I’m going to write for a while. Take your time.” Cat’s tone implied that she knew Mercedes was giving her a pathetic excuse to see Chet again.
Mercedes grinned, letting her know that yes, she was looking for a reason to see the guy, before hurrying out the door. As she sat in the driveway, waiting for Whitney’s truck to pull into Chet’s place, collect Aiden, and then travel on up the road, she wondered why she was so anxious to see Chet. The experiment worked: Chet had inspired her to want to paint again. The need had tugged at her while they were building and she’d had to put it off. She wanted it back. And the only way she knew how to get it was to be with Chet. So, she was off to his ranch with another plate full of food and a prayer that this would work.
Balancing the heavy plate on her lap wasn’t easy on the bumpy road, but she managed to keep everything where it was supposed to be.
The barn door was open, so Mercedes headed that direction first. The sound of metal on metal clanged rhythmically through the air. There was a pause, and then the noise started again. Mercedes peeked in the barn.
Chet stood over an anvil, a pair of metal tongs in one hand and a large, flat hammer in the other. The tongs held a horseshoe that glowed bright orange. Chet brought the hammer down again and again, sending flecks of iron flying.
Mercedes watched, mesmerized by the white sputtering light from the portable forge silhouetting Chet in the dim overhead lights. His muscular arms glistened in the heat. When he shoved the hot shoe into a bucket of cold
water, steam rose up with a loud hiss. Mercedes had never seen anything so primal. The basic struggle of a man wielding iron was … enthralling. It stirred all sorts of emotions and made her stomach flutter. Her need for a brush and palette scorched her fingers.
Chet looked up from his work, found her standing there, and caught her in a smoldering look. All of a sudden, Mercedes understood why Grandpa referred to kissing as “sparking.” There were definitely sparks flying in the barn, and not all of them were from the forge blazing away behind Chet. For one second, she pictured him throwing aside his tools, taking her up in his arms, and kissing her until the sun came up.
Dang, her mind could paint a captivating picture.
She stumbled forward, the plate in her hands. “I brought you some food. I mean dinner, I brought you a real dinner.”
“Looks good.” Chet’s eyes had never left Mercedes, and she caught the double meaning. He turned and shut off the forge.
Mercedes had a hard time getting the picture of kissing Chet out of her head. In fact, she’d practically painted the image in her mind, complete with sparks. She fanned her face as Chet took the plate. “Is it hot? I mean, is it always this hot in here? I’m sure it’s hot around the forge. That’s the point of a forge.” Her voice squeaked and she pressed her fingers to her throat. Her pulse was pounding away, making it hard to concentrate.
Chet cleared his throat. “For some reason, it feels extra warm tonight. Let’s go outside where it’s cooler.” Chet led her to the backyard, where he sat on a bench near a tree.
Mercedes remembered kids climbing the tree during the picnic. The lowest branches were about hip-high and even the smaller kids could reach those. By focusing on the image of children climbing the tree, she was able to bring her heart rate back to normal, or as close to normal as it was going to get around Chet.
The more time she spent with him, the harder it was to deny she was attracted to him. Right off the bat she’d noticed he was attractive, but she hadn’t realized how quickly an attraction could ignite. She liked that her interest in him grew the more she learned about him. With other guys, the initial flare dwindled out fairly quickly. She thought that was just the way it was supposed to be. She never imagined a guy could get more interesting as time went on. There was so much she didn’t know about Chet, things she wanted to learn. She had to force herself to clamp down on the questions erupting in her mind for fear she’d annoy him.
Chet motioned for her to sit down first. Mercedes sat to one side, leaving enough room for him to join her on the bench.
“Have you eaten?” asked Chet.
Mercedes shook her head.
Chet offered her the plate, and she took one of the sandwiches.
“Do you mind if I offer grace?” she asked.
Chet grinned. “Not at all.” He pulled his ball cap off his head and ran his fingers through his hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking up before folding his arms.
Mercedes bowed her head and offered thanks for the food. They ate in silence for a moment. Feeling her intense hunger rear its head, Mercedes felt all the more guilty for starving Chet and Aiden. “Sorry for working you through dinner.”
Chet swallowed. “No big deal. I don’t usually eat dinner until it’s dark anyway.”
“Something about burning daylight?” asked Mercedes.
“Yeah. We were raised that if it’s light out, we should be working.”
“Well, I promise next time I’ll have some real food for you guys. Do you think Aiden was starving?”
“Naw, the kid eats seven meals a day.”
“That’s good.” Mercedes released her breath.
Chet looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Where did you learn to build a deck?”
Mercedes blushed at the obvious praise in his voice. “My mom’s a nurse and my dad is an English teacher at a high school. My grandpa owned several apartment buildings, and Cat and I spent a lot of time following him around while he worked on things. Eventually he taught us how to do the work and then hired us to help with maintenance. It wasn’t a bad gig, but he wouldn’t let us go out on calls unless we went together. He also taught us how to use mace and insisted we carry it.”
“Did you ever have any trouble?” Chet’s chest tightened as he thought of these two beautiful women walking into a dangerous situation.
“Not once. Grandpa screened his tenants pretty well, and if he ever felt uncomfortable around someone, he’d take on the job himself.”
“He’s a lucky guy to have you two around.”
Chet finished off his dinner, and Mercedes wasn’t far behind. When she was done, he took the plate to the outside barrel. Mercedes stood up; she didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome either.
“Thanks for the food.”
“It was no big deal.”
Chet rubbed his stomach. “Tell that to my stomach.” He smiled.
Mercedes chuckled.
Chet looked out at the corral, his eyebrows drawn together. Mercedes studied his profile, noting the Roman nose and firm jaw. He’d be so easy to paint. She was anxious to get back to the house so she could prep a canvas. It would take at least twenty minutes for the primer to dry enough that she could start. On the other hand, being here with Chet had its draw.
Chet caught her staring and tilted his head. “What are you thinking about?”
“Thinking?” Mercedes repeated, coming out of the place in her head where she planned her paintings. After all this time, it was still there!
Like a hard candy coating melting in the palm of her hand, her emotional block cracked and she could feel again. Having the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with toss her to the curb had damaged her more than she’d been willing to admit. It was only now, with the shield around her heart crumbling away, that she understood the thickness of it and the limitations it placed on her art and in her life. The flash of desire for Chet that she’d felt in the barn must have been hot enough to initiate the change. She focused on Chet, hoping her carnal revelation didn’t show on her face.
“Yeah, you get this look, like you’re working your way through a problem, but it’s a good thing. You look happy, just a bit distracted.”
Mercedes lowered her eyebrows and bit her lip. Others had commented on her spacing out. Painting was as much a part of her as building decks or fixing sinks was. She wanted to share it with Chet, but was worried he wouldn’t understand.
He reached up and ran his thumb down gently down her chin. His eyes were soft. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Being here with Chet, with the evening sun warm on her skin, the smell of earth, and the shifting of animals, stirred something inside Mercedes she’d never felt before. The feeling was so intense it took her words away. After being numb for so long, the longing deep inside was almost too much.
Chet’s hand dropped. Mercedes instinctively stepped closer and touched his arm.
Chet looked down at her hand and then back up to her eyes.
Mercedes dropped her gaze. She’d tried to explain how her mind worked over an image to people before and they’d brushed her off. Opening herself up to Chet was a leap of faith if ever there was one. “Sometimes,” she paused trying to organize her thoughts before continuing. “Sometimes there are these moments that are full.”
“Full?”
“Full of emotion or feelings that grab onto me and I want to capture them on canvas.”
“So you’re planning a painting.”
“Yeah, basically.”
“Of me?” Chet raised his eyebrow.
Mercedes’s face flamed. “Um … yeah. But not because you’re good-looking.”
Chet raised the other eyebrow.
“You are good-looking.” Mercedes stuttered. “I mean ...” She looked up and then down and blew out a big breath. “I’m attracted to beauty. Cat says I have an eye for it. I guess all artists do, or should, or need one.” Mercedes finally got her mouth to stop moving.
>
Chet fought against a smile. “So let me get this straight. I’m beautiful and when you look at me, you have feelings.”
Mercedes wanted to die! There was no way she could tell him there were dozens of feelings racing through her; everything from intense attraction to a sense of home.
Chet lifted one side of his mouth in this half grin that melted all of Mercedes reserves. Who was she kidding? She’d tell him anything. It wasn’t just the way he made her feel like the only woman worth looking at in the whole wide world; she trusted him and that was a huge deal.
A large black truck pulled into Chet’s gravel drive saving Mercedes from further embarrassing herself or baring her soul. A man in shiny boots and a pristine cowboy hat threw open the door. He held up his hand in greeting.
Chet did the same. He took a protective step forward and slightly in front of Mercedes.
As the man approached, Mercedes took in his crisply ironed shirt and new western jeans. He was wearing much the same clothing as Chet, but he was much too clean to have spent the day on a tractor.
“Hello, I’m Thomas Staker. I’m lookin’ for Mr. Bauer.”
“I’m Chet.”
The man looked Chet over. “I’m looking for the senior Mr. Bauer, the owner of the property.”
Chet folded his arms. “This is my place,” he replied in an even tone.
“Well, then.” The man dug a business card out of his front shirt pocket. “This is good news. I was told your dad was opposed to the idea of a cell tower, but you and your wife might appreciate what we have to offer.”
“She’s not ...” said Chet.
“We aren’t …” said Mercedes.
Mr. Staker held up his hands. “My mistake.” He turned his full attention to Chet. “I’m prepared to talk real numbers.”
Chet’s jaw clenched. “I’m not interested.”
A cell tower? Mercedes had seen several of them as she drove across the country. They rose high into the sky and bounced light as if they were made of tin foil.
Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2) Page 62