by Jo McNally
“Don’t look so surprised, Hollywood. If you ask me, you need a little more man-handling.” Her face flushed red again. It was so easy to get her hackles up. “Tell Miss Nell I’ll be over tomorrow to help put up hay. I think Arlen and his dad are bringing by a few wagons of horse bales.” He forced himself not to smile when she put her hands on her hips.
“The last thing I need is any of your man-handling, Cole Caldwell. Or any of your help. I’ll take care of the hay. You just stay over at your own place and leave us alone.” She turned and started to stomp away when he called out.
“Hey, Hollywood!” She spun to spit more words at him, but he flipped the empty thermos in the air before she could speak. She was surprised, but she caught it easily. She frowned and looked at her feet.
“My sandals...” She’d left them on the side of his driveway. “My hat...” It had fluttered to a resting spot somewhere in his bean field. He grinned.
“Sorry, Miss Mathews, but if I’m not welcome here, then you aren’t welcome at my place. Your sandals and hat are mine. But don’t worry—as soon as you call for my help tomorrow, I’ll return them to you.”
She glared at him, her eyes smoking with anger. “Those shoes will rot before that happens. Keep them, you jerk.” And with that she was gone, stomping off in her naked feet toward Nell’s house. Hopefully she’d miss that big fire ant nest. He rested his elbow on his knee and watched her in admiration. Whoever ended up taming that woman was going to have one heck of a prize.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS A little after noon the next day when Cole left The Hide-Away and headed back to the farm. He and Ty met once a month to review the books from the bar and the Caldwell farm. They had the type of partnership that could only work between family members. The farm was primarily Cole’s responsibility. The bar was Ty’s. And they shared the profits from both. A monthly stipend from the family trust fund helped round out their budgets. They damned sure weren’t rich, but they weren’t poor, either.
Today they debated the pros and cons of installing an improved sound system and karaoke setup at the bar. It was a big investment, but they knew it could bring a lot more business. Cole wasn’t convinced the slow summer season was the best time to make the move, but Ty argued they’d be able to set it up before the cooler weather moved in.
Cooler weather sounded pretty good right now, with the heat index already over one hundred degrees. The humidity was so intense that he did something unusual. He rolled up the windows and turned on the air-conditioning in his truck. Maggie seemed to appreciate it as she stretched out across the seat next to him with a sigh. Regardless of the temperature, he had to get home and change the wheel bearings on that old John Deere. A farmer’s work didn’t stop for weather.
Nell’s place came into view, and he spit out a curse when he saw several trucks and wagons behind her house. He’d completely forgotten that Arlen and his dad were delivering hay to Nell’s today. He pulled into her driveway, then swung the truck onto her front lawn to leave the way open for Arlen’s vehicles. Grabbing a pair of leather gloves from behind the seat, he ushered Maggie out of the truck and started striding toward the barn to help.
“I wouldn’t go any closer to that barn if I were you.”
Nell was sitting on the shaded porch where she could watch the activity in the farmyard. But right now she was watching only him.
“Ty and I had a meeting and I completely forgot about the hay, Nell. I’ll get up in the loft right now...”
“I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?”
“Honey, you seem to have forgotten a conversation you had with Miss Mathews yesterday. Unless you have her shoes and hat in your possession, she made it clear that your assistance was not needed.”
Cole’s jaw dropped and he stared at Nell as if she was speaking a foreign language. She couldn’t possibly be telling him that he was unwelcome because of something that redhead said.
“Nell, you can’t be serious. Arlen and his dad can’t put that hay up without some help. Hollywood’s probably off doing her nails somewhere, so I’ll just...”
“You’ll just come up here with me and watch. Bree’s doin’ fine on her own.”
Cole obeyed Nell without thinking, stepping up onto the porch. Maggie settled next to Shep in the shade. And then Nell’s words connected. Bree was doing fine?
He looked at the barn where one of the wagons was parked. The hay elevator was chugging away, slowly moving bales of hay from the wagon up to the loft. Bree was standing in the doorway. It had to be like an oven up there in this heat. She was wearing denim shorts and a yellow tank top, with her spice-colored hair pulled up into a short ponytail. Even from this distance, he could see the sheen of sweat that covered every inch of exposed skin. Her cheeks were bright red. Her shirt was soaked through and clung to her body. At least she had the good sense to wear gloves.
Nell interrupted his perusal. “She told me this would be like a session of hot yoga, whatever that is. Apparently she has a personal trainer in California who’s a professional kickboxer. No wonder she can work as hard as she does.”
A large bale of hay reached the top of the elevator, and Bree leaned out and grabbed it, wrapping her fingers under the baling twine. She hesitated as if she was digging deep for strength, then yanked the bale off the elevator and turned away, moving out of his sight. A minute later she was back, breathing heavily and waiting for the next bale to come into reach. The routine was completed again and again as he stood there in awe of her.
It wasn’t unusual to see Southern women helping out with farm work. But he never thought he’d see Hollywood doing this. Sure, she’d been weeding and cooking and cleaning a few stalls with Nell, and that was impressive. But putting up hay was actual work. In brutal conditions.
She came back to the doorway and placed her hand on the door frame to steady herself. She looked down at the wagon and said something to Arlen’s father, George, a wiry little guy with the strength of ten professional wrestlers and a temper to match. George wouldn’t care that she was a woman—he wouldn’t hold back on the foul language and insults if she started complaining. The old guy looked up and pointed at Bree, shaking his head. He was probably ripping into her for something, and Cole stiffened. Maybe he should get out there and protect her.
And then Bree laughed. She threw her head back and laughed out loud, yelling down an insult at the old man. Did she just call George an “old fart”? George was laughing right along with her. She’d managed to win over George Howard, one of the toughest old birds in the county. They shared another laugh and then George sent more hay up into the loft. She took the first bale and spun out of sight again.
She was up there sweating bullets in a sauna because the work needed to be done and she was too proud to ask him for help. Damned if that didn’t turn him the hell on. And that made him angry. He most definitely did not need to be feeling any attraction to Brianna Mathews.
Nell was speaking again. “She really is something, isn’t she?”
He gave her a hard look. “Yeah, she’s something, all right. Did you know she’s trying to steal my dog?”
He cringed at the look she gave him. He sounded like a whiney ten-year-old, and he could see from Nell’s eyes that she was thinking the same thing.
“So, you’ve noticed Maggie’s nightly visits?”
“I caught her trotting over there Monday night. And last night, too. Bree must be feeding her or something.”
“Honey, that dog’s been going to the cottage every night since Sunday.” He started to protest but she held up her hand to stop him. “It wasn’t anything Bree encouraged. In fact, she tried to send her home, but the dog won’t leave. She sleeps on the bed, and Bree said she feels safer with Maggie there. Safe enough to take long soaks in the bathtub at night.”
Well. There was an ima
ge he didn’t need in his head, and he had a feeling that was exactly why Nell had mentioned it. While he struggled to not think about Brianna Mathews naked in a tub, Nell kept talking, never taking her eyes from his face.
“Maggie’s never done that before, even when that pretty little schoolteacher rented the cottage this past winter. She must figure Bree needs her there.”
He just nodded without answering.
“I know it’s killing you not to help put up the hay,” Nell said. Little did she know that wasn’t the only thing killing him right now. “Take some cold water out there with you. Remember that Arlen and George know her as Anna. And don’t expect her to be happy to see you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And that would be different how?” He opened the cooler that was sitting next to Nell’s chair and pulled out an armful of cold water bottles.
He was going to wait until Bree turned away with a bale of hay before heading across the lawn, but she didn’t come back to the door. Instead, Arlen was there taking bales off the elevator and tossing them back into the loft. Cole sighed in relief as he tossed a bottle to George on the hay wagon. Bree must have come to her senses and decided to leave the hot loft, which meant Arlen would need an extra set of hands up there. He didn’t pass her on his way inside the barn, but maybe she’d gone out back to cool off under the hose.
But that, of course, would have been the smart thing to do, which meant that Brianna Mathews hadn’t done it. Instead, she was stacking the heavy bales deep inside the loft. When he got up there, the hay was four bales high, and she was standing on that level. Arlen threw a bale up to Bree, and she moved it into place on the sixth row, too focused to notice his arrival. It was even hotter up here than he’d imagined, and the heat combined with the hay dust made it difficult to breathe.
Or maybe it was the sight of Bree, drenched in sweat yet moving smoothly and powerfully as she stacked hay, that made it so tough for him to catch a breath. Arlen saw him there and acknowledged his arrival with a nod, and Cole finally snapped out of his stupor.
He threw a bottle of water to Arlen, who took it with a grin and raised it in a mock toast. Arlen turned to the door and made a slicing motion across his neck, telling his father to shut down the elevator for a break. Bree noticed the sudden silence and turned, finally seeing him standing there. He wasn’t surprised when her hands landed on her hips.
“I told you yesterday we don’t need your help, so beat it, Plowboy.”
Ah. She was ticked off. It was his favorite flavor of Bree. He bit back a smile as she stood there glaring down at him. He tossed a water bottle up to her, and she was smart enough not to refuse it. While she was drinking, she couldn’t be yapping at him. He turned to Arlen.
“Why don’t you help your dad down on the wagon? I’ll stay up here.”
“Wait...” Bree started to object. But Arlen didn’t waste any time leaving the loft. He crab-walked down the elevator to join his father, leaving Cole and Bree up there alone. He looked at her and waited, knowing she wasn’t done with him.
“You’re such a pain in my...” She stopped and took breath. “I can handle the loft by myself. Go home.”
“Look, forget about yesterday, okay? It’s a hot freakin’ day and the job’s gotta get done, so let’s just get to it.”
She finished drinking her water, and he thought she was going to ignore him. Then the hay elevator hummed back to life, and so did she. Her eyes fixed on him and she wiped a rivulet of sweat from the side of her face.
“Fine. Just stay out of my way and don’t talk.”
He shrugged and turned to grab the hay bale that tumbled off the elevator. Talking always led to trouble with Bree anyway, so he had no problem granting her wish.
* * *
BREE GLARED AT the back of Cole’s head. He was such a jerk. Sure, they’d shared a lighter moment yesterday on his tractor, but, as with all their conversations, it soon descended into him saying something infuriating. He actually seemed to enjoy it when she stomped away from him in a rage. It was as if baiting her was some kind of game to him. Even now she could tell from his smirk and the way he watched her out of the corner of his eye that he was amused by her anger.
Jackass.
They settled into a tense but efficient routine. Cole took the bales off the elevator, carried them across the loft and threw them up to where she was standing, four rows above the floor. He never said a word as he tossed the bales up to her level with the ease of someone who’d done farm work all his life.
She was walking the bales up another level and stacking them at shoulder height. The closer she came to the metal roof of the barn, the hotter it got. Her body shifted into autopilot, and she kept pushing forward. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could leave Cole Caldwell’s annoying presence and step into a nice, cool shower. She was pushing a particularly large bale over her head when her arms started to tremble with exhaustion. She stepped back so she could use her whole body to shove the stubborn bale into place.
The bale she stepped on wasn’t fully anchored. As it tilted under her weight, the one she was lifting settled back against her arms, and she came to the sickening realization that she wasn’t going to be able to fight gravity for both herself and that damned bale.
The bale under her foot tipped farther, the one in her hands tumbled free and she was falling. But not for long. Arms like iron gripped her and scooped her up before she could cry out. Cole had leaped up two levels and caught her in midair. He twisted and threw himself back against the stacked bales behind him and they both came to a sudden stop. Her body slammed against his chest, and her head just happened to come to rest on his shoulder.
For a few heartbeats, neither of them spoke or moved. The only sound was the chug-chug of the hay elevator. She raised her head and met his eyes, which were just above her own. Instead of the usual cold gray, his were dark and intense. Without moving his head, he slowly lowered her legs until she was standing, but still trapped tightly in the circle of his arms. The suffocating heat of the loft now felt cool against her skin compared to the fire burning between them. Every nerve ending was on high alert.
His mouth was right there. Right. There. She could feel his breath moving across her cheeks, and she closed her eyes at the delicious sensation of it. She opened them again when she heard a low moan from deep in his throat. Whatever was happening, Cole was feeling it, too. He took a breath and blinked, his eyes flicking away from hers briefly. His hold loosened ever so slightly, and she felt a sharp pang of disappointment.
She could stop him. She could reach up and kiss him and stop him from letting her go. His lips were still just inches away. He shook his head slowly, as if he’d read her mind. His voice was raspy and labored when he broke the feverish silence.
“You and me are a bad idea, Hollywood.”
She nodded and whispered the words back at him.
“Bad idea.”
He released her and stepped back, putting more space between them. His voice was stronger this time.
“A very bad idea.”
She suspected he was trying as hard as she was to convince himself of the truth of those words. His hand lifted toward her face but he stopped before he touched her. It didn’t matter. She felt the zip of energy between his fingertips and her skin. Her lips parted as she closed her eyes and sighed. This bad idea was starting to feel really good.
Cole cursed under his breath and jumped down to the loft floor as if she’d hit him with a taser, leaving her standing alone. Their eyes were still locked tightly on each other, but the forced distance helped clear her head. Bales of hay tumbled off the elevator behind him and created a haphazard pile at the doorway. Someone was calling Cole’s name. It was Arlen, asking what the hell was going on up there.
The corner of Cole’s mouth slowly slid into a crooked grin. There was a light in his eyes she’d nev
er seen there before. She returned the grin without really knowing why. They were each acknowledging something, while avoiding defining exactly what that something was. She only knew she wanted to experience it again, and she suspected he did, too, despite the risks involved.
* * *
“SO LET ME get this straight. You couldn’t sleep last night because you didn’t kiss the hot farmer from across the road?”
Bree leaned her head back against the rocker on the cottage porch and sighed. When Amanda said it that way, it did seem silly. But the reality was, even Maggie’s presence couldn’t help her sleep last night. Every time she closed her eyes she felt Cole’s arms around her in the heavy heat of the loft; saw his mouth above hers, knowing he wanted to kiss her. She found herself smiling.
“I don’t think I ever said he was hot.”
Her cousin’s laughter rang through the phone.
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to. I can hear it in your voice. He is one hot hunk of farmer, and you want to jump his bones. Why else would you text me this early and ask if I was available to talk?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Hardly. Baby Madeleine starts kicking like a fiend every time I lie down. If Blake tells me one more time that she’s just dancing, I’m going to throttle him. He can carry the next baby.”
Bree looked out over the fields as the sun rose above the horizon in a blaze of red. “So is your husband still being overprotective of his baby mama?”
“Yes, but stop trying to change the subject. I want to hear about the hot farmer. Spill it, cuz.”
She started rocking and stared at the big white farmhouse across the road. “There’s nothing to hear. He’s consistently kind to Nell, but insults me every chance he gets. He obviously thinks I’m some kind of Hollywood prima donna who isn’t worth his time...”
“He didn’t insult you yesterday. He almost kissed you, and you wanted him to. When’s the last time that happened? So why not just kiss the man?”