Читать книгу Weddings Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 27

“Try it.”

Just coming out of the house with a glass of iced coffee for Kevin—all that she could manage to scrounge up on short notice in the way of a sociable beverage—June stopped dead in her tracks.

Not because of his short instruction, given as he waved at the tractor, but because in the time that it had taken her to go inside and try to locate something other than the two bottles of beer in her refrigerator to offer him, Kevin had finally surrendered to the heat and stripped off his damp shirt.

She’d already noticed, albeit somewhat unwillingly, how the material had clung to his body. But the difference between her speculation and reality was the difference between a Monet and a six-year-old’s crayon rendition of a lake. The man’s torso looked as if Michelangelo had studied it before creating his statue of David.

Kevin’s chest was sculpted, tanned and gleaming. She pressed her lips together to make sure her mouth wasn’t hanging open.

How did a man who, until very recently, ran a cab company and spent most of his time in enclosures of one sort or another come off looking like a model in search of a product to push? In Kevin’s present state, he could have sold argyle socks to Australian Aborigine tribesmen in the wild.

Kevin looked in her direction, a quizzical expression on his face and she realized that she’d all but solidified in place. Allowing the sizzling effect of his appearance to penetrate further, she thawed out immediately.

Clearing her throat as she rejoined the animated world, June looked at the tractor skeptically, trying very hard to focus her thoughts on the piece of machinery and not the man holding the wrench.

It wasn’t easy.

Tractor, think tractor. She stared at the antiquated machine that had been housed in the barn for the better part of a decade and a half. Overhauling it, she’d gotten it to work several times, but never for long and on this last effort, it had completely given up the ghost no matter what she tried.

June chewed on her lower lip. He’d been working on the tractor for the better part of three hours. Granted, he seemed to have gotten all the pieces back to where they belonged or, at least, off the ground, but that was no proof that he’d done any better a job than she had in all of her previous recent attempts to get the engine to run again.

She took a few steps forward. “What did you do?” she wanted to know.

Since she was holding the glass out, Kevin assumed the iced coffee was intended for him. He took the glass from her.

“Just try it,” he urged again, then took a long, long sip, grateful for the cold liquid. He rubbed the glass along his brow. Sweat poured off him. “If it works, then I’ll explain what I did. Otherwise, there’s no point.”

Move, think, talk, she instructed herself sternly when she realized she’d suddenly become glued into place again. Do anything but stare at him. He’s just a man. Lots of H₂O, skin, hair, fat cells, that’s all.

But somehow, whoever had created Kevin Quintano had found a magical combination that took mere flesh and fashioned it into something temptingly delectable.

Shivers threatened to run up and down her spine, embarrassing her.

June looked away. She had to get a grip on herself and these strange thoughts that insisted on leaping around in her head. Who cared what he looked like? Could he fix her tractor? should have been the only thing on her mind.

Taking her keys out of her hip pocket, June got up on the tractor, frowned dubiously at the machine and inserted the key in the ignition. She turned it and, after a sputter, the engine coughed into life, where it remained until she turned it off.

“I did that the last time,” she told Kevin loftily, determined not to be impressed. “It didn’t turn over again.”

Kevin indicated the ignition. “Go ahead and try it again, then.”

Try it again. She was getting to hate that phrase. She didn’t know why, but it made her feel inept. Especially when she turned the key and the engine turned over again, this time without emitting either a sputter or a cough.

June sat in the tractor seat, letting the machine vibrate beneath her, a stallion wanting nothing more than to be set free.

Was Kevin like that?

Her eyes widened as her silent question sank in. God, where had that come from?

She wondered if she could be suffering from some sort of heat stroke. That had to be it. It was an inordinately hot day for the region. But she’d spent less time out in the sun than he had.

A mosquito buzzed around her neck and she slapped it away, relieved for the simple diversion.

“All right,” she said, getting off. “Now will you tell me what you did to it?” She fixed him with an almost exasperated look. “Or is this just a matter of the laying on of hands and healing the damn thing?”

She sounded awfully impatient for a woman who’d just had an important piece of machinery repaired. “No healing, no laying.” He laughed, pleased with his own effort.

Prolonging the moment, Kevin set the drained glass down against the back of the barn. He wasn’t ordinarily given to drama of any kind; that was exclusively Lily’s department. But the moment seemed to beg for it. Especially in view of June’s temperamental behavior. She needed to learn to mellow out a little.

“But you’re going to keep it a secret.” She frowned at him. This was so typical of a male.

He looked at her innocently, wondering what kind of people she was accustomed to dealing with. Had they treated her like an anomaly of nature because of her skills, or like a younger sibling who always insisted on doing what they did?

“Why would I do that?”

She blew out a breath, knowing she was being short-tempered. But given the situation, as well as the weather, it was hard not to. She thought of the walls she’d run up against.

“I don’t know, men are very territorial when it comes to sharing what they know, thinking that the puny female mind isn’t capable of absorbing those kinds of technical details.”

He studied June for a moment before answering. Temper made her features sharper. Also more vivid. “I never thought of your mind as puny, or particularly female for that matter.”

“I don’t know whether to take offense or be flattered.”

He made it easy for her. “No offense intended,” he told her.

Then, before she could say anything else, he launched into a detailed explanation of what he’d attempted to do and had obviously succeeded in accomplishing. He noted that, as she listened, a grudging admiration entered June’s eyes.

“No big mystery, really,” he concluded. “Sometimes the simplest details are the ones that are overlooked.”

Turning from her, he reached for the shirt he’d left slung over a nail on the fence that served as a makeshift corral. He’d been told that once this had been a horse ranch. He was about to put the shirt on again when June stopped him, all but grabbing it out of his hands.

“Wait, don’t.”

He didn’t understand what had made her spring into action like that. Looking around him didn’t make things any clearer. “What?”

She realized she’d put a little too much emotion into the entreaty. But that was because she hadn’t wanted to see him slip the shirt on just yet.

“I mean, it’s damp.” She turned it into a challenge. “You don’t want to put on a damp, sweaty shirt, do you, Kevin?”

“Don’t see as I have much choice.” His eyes swept over her. “I don’t think anything you might have would fit me.”

Why did she suddenly feel as if her throat was closing up, making it hard for her to swallow. Or breathe? “I can hang it up.”

He could just hear Jimmy if he came back to the house shirtless. He spread his arms out wide. “What do I do in the meantime?”

Stay just like that. This was getting out of hand. June censored herself. “I’ve got more work you can do while it’s drying—if you’re game.”

He had the time and he liked to work, so that wasn’t a problem. But he was curious. He looked around, as if to confirm his impression. “No other hired hands?”

Was that a judgmental tone she heard in his voice? Her own became defensive. “Not at the moment.”

He knew that as far as farms went, this wasn’t exactly huge, but it wasn’t tiny, either. And a lot of work went into running a farm. She had both a crop and several head of cattle. “Isn’t this rather a large undertaking for just one woman?”

Her eyes flashed as she raised her chin. “It’s not exactly like I’m hitching myself up to a plow and pulling it along the furrows.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “At least, not now that you’ve brought my tractor back from the dead.”

He got the feeling that she was waiting for him to rub her nose in it. He shrugged casually.

“You would have figured it out on your own if I hadn’t come along,” he assured her. Then, to her surprise, he placed his fingers on her chin and pushed it down slightly. “No need to get on your high horse, June. You take offense far too fast, especially when none’s intended.” Her attitude didn’t make sense to him. “I thought men would treat women like princesses here.”

“They do.” She let out a short, exasperated breath, but this time, it wasn’t directed toward him. “But princesses aren’t equals.”

He couldn’t argue with her there. “No, they’re usually superior.”

A slight smile curved her mouth. “The men around here don’t think that far ahead.”

“You mean like that Haggerty?” He supposed that was a slip. He shouldn’t have mentioned the man, but the way the miner had looked at June, as if he’d liked to own her, had lingered on his mind.

“Him,” she acknowledged. “Some of the others.” She didn’t want to talk about the local talent, or lack thereof. “Are you game?” June took his shirt from the nail. “You can work just as long as it takes to dry your shirt.” She held it out before her, pretending to make a judgment while she was really taking the opportunity to look more closely at him again. God, but he was rock solid. “Shouldn’t take long in this heat.”

He looked around, seeing plenty of places he could get started. The steps on her porch looked as if they were about to crack apart in several places. A person could sustain a nasty twist of an ankle stepping down at the wrong time.

“What have you got in mind?”

She thought of the fence she’d been working on in between cursing at the tractor. “I’ve got some rotting fence posts that need replacing.” She’d left the new posts beside the ones that needed to be pulled out, intending on getting to that next. “Are you good with your hands?” She glanced at them.

He couldn’t help the response that came to his lips as they curved. “Never had any complaints.”

No, she’d wager that he hadn’t. What she didn’t quite get was why he was still alone, especially now that he didn’t have a family making all those demands on him.

Not her business, she told herself tersely.

“All right then, follow me.” She waved him over to her car, an all-terrain vehicle she’d lovingly restored while she still owned the auto repair shop.

He took the shovel and the sledgehammer from her as she went to pick up each. “By the way,” he said as he followed her to the vehicle, “do you know you left the radio on in the kitchen?”

“I know.” She waited until he deposited the tools in the rear of the car. “It keeps me company when I walk into the house.” She’d almost said that it kept her from being lonely, which was something she didn’t want to admit to him, or to anyone for that matter. June started the car, then, because she could almost feel the effects of his expression, she glanced at him. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing, I was just surprised at how much we have in common.”

“Because we both can fix engines?” She thought that was already a given. Why would he be smiling about that now?

He thought of the house on Maple Street, the one that seemed so empty now. “No, because we both make sure there’s some kind of noise in the house to keep from getting lonely.”

She shot him a look. “I didn’t say I get lonely. I just like music.” And then she took the edge off her voice. Some of her defensiveness abated in the face of his admission. He’d surprised her. Men didn’t usually admit to things like this. “You get lonely?”

He saw no shame in it. “Yes.”

All things considered, that didn’t make much sense to her. She could see getting lonely here. The winter nights were mournfully long and even now, in the summer, the isolation at times seemed all-pervading.

“But you live in a big city.” He could go out his door at any time and find a host of people. She had to get into her car and drive for miles before she could see another face.

“Easy to feel lonely in a crowd,” he told her. He thought of her last night at the Salty. The saloon had been filled with wall-to-wall people, all of whom she knew by name. Being lonely in a crowd wasn’t something she was familiar with. “Besides, it’s the sound of the others I miss. Jimmy and Alison lived in the house until they came up here, and even Lily was in and out so much, there were times I forgot she had her own place.” He looked out at the wide terrain. “Having them all gone makes it very quiet.”

For a moment, she felt as if they were sharing something very intimate, as intimate as the kiss had been, except with far less kick to it. “And you don’t like that?”

Kevin shook his head. “No, not much.” Not at all, really, he added silently.

She slanted a long glance at him. “Huh, imagine that.” They were close in her family, although they never talked about it. She doubted if she’d ever hear Max admit something like this to her. Max loved having his own space, so much so that at times she wondered how Lily was going to fit into it. “You’re a very unusual man, you know that?” she said softly. She settled back in her seat as she drove. “I can remember my father always telling us to be quiet.”

Parents were always telling their children to be quiet. As far as he was concerned, quiet was highly overrated. “What else do you remember about your father?”

She stared off in front of her. “His not being there,” she said tersely.

Kevin always knew when to leave something alone. And he did.

Stretching, Kevin leaned his arms on top of the sledgehammer he’d been wielding. Each of his arms felt as if they weighed thirty pounds apiece. He watched as the vehicle approached him.

Finally, he thought.

He wrapped his hand around the shank of the sledgehammer, depositing it into the back seat. “I was wondering when you’d get around to coming back for me.” Turning, he picked up the shovel and threw it in next to the other tool.

Time had gotten away from her. June looked at the posts, then at him in surprise. He was faster than he appeared. “You’re all done.”

He shrugged, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “There were only four posts.”

It was an effort for her to tear her eyes away. His muscles were rippling. And her stomach was tightening. “I thought it would take you longer. Your shirt’s dry.” She held it up.

Yes, but he wasn’t. Kevin took it from her, debating putting it on. Climbing into the vehicle, he decided to leave the shirt on his lap.

Having him so close to her, sweaty, gleaming and naked from the waist up, had an unsettling effect on her rebelling stomach. Her hands tightened on the wheel. “Why aren’t you putting your shirt on?”

He looked slightly amused. “Because, while my throat’s dry, I’m not. If I put it on now, it’ll just get damp again.”

Was he laughing at her? Was there color creeping into her cheeks? She had to stop herself from raising her chin defiantly. “Sorry, I forgot to leave you some water. I’ll get you back to the house as fast as possible.”

“That would be nice.” His lips felt parched. So did the rest of him. “So would lunch.” He looked up at the sun as she drove back to the farmhouse. “Or is it past that time? I didn’t wear a watch today and I can’t really tell up here.”

“It’s closer to dinner.” More guilt. She should have fed him, but then, she really wasn’t used to having company. Her socializing was done either at the Salty or at the house of one of her relatives. She was never the one who did the entertaining. She bit her lip as she slanted a glance at him. “You must be starving.”

“I could eat.” His stomach rumbled. Kevin grinned. “Possibly a small horse.”

“I don’t have one of those.” She thought of the contents of her refrigerator. “But I do have a steak. You’re welcome to it.”

He got the impression that there was nothing else. “What are you going to have?”

She shrugged. “I’ll find something. Cereal. Toast. A piece of fruit.”

All things a bachelor might eat in a pinch. His grin widened. “I take it you’re not very domestic.”

June frowned. Her grandmother had always gotten on her case about that. She told him exactly what she told her, except a little more coolly. “I fixed cars, not meals.”

“There’s that defensiveness again.” He was beginning to think that was simply her way. “I’m just asking questions, June, trying to get a handle on things.”

“Why?” She looked at him. “Where are you planning on carrying it?”

He saw the farmhouse in the distance. “Have you always been this suspicious of people?”

“Not people, strangers.”

He didn’t like the way she slapped the label on him. “I’d think that after sweating over your tractor and your rotting fence poles, I wouldn’t be that much of a stranger to you.”

“A stranger is someone I haven’t known since birth.” June backtracked a little.

“That means I’m always going to be a stranger to you.”

June shrugged self-consciously. “I guess we can work on that.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Arriving at the house, she pulled up the hand brake. The next minute, he was getting out and striding up the front steps as if he owned the house, instead of her.

Jumping out on her side, she was quick to follow him inside. He headed straight for the kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked as he opened the refrigerator.

Kevin took out the steak, a half-empty bottle of tomato sauce, a wilting onion and what appeared to be a half-filled container of rice. He deposited them on the narrow counter. “Well, you said you weren’t domestic—”

She moved so that she was between him and the counter. “So?”

Kevin put his hands on her shoulders and very patiently moved her out of the way. “So who do you think taught Lily the basic fundamentals?”

“You?”

He laughed as he looked for a pot. There was one dented Dutch oven in the cabinet beneath the sink. He took out his prize. “Don’t look so surprised, some of the world’s best chefs are men.”

She crossed her arms before her. “You fix cars and cook.”

“Among other things.” Reaching for the salt on the counter, he stopped and looked at her. “Unless, of course, you feel I’m trespassing.”

That would be cutting off her nose to spite her face. Besides, she was hungry, and curious to boot. She stepped back, waving him on. “Hey, trespass away. I never liked to cook, it was just something I had to do.”

“Good?” Dinner was on the table and he’d been watching her eat now for two minutes without any comment. Although he was never one who fished for compliments, his curiosity got the best of him.

Very slowly, she drew the fork from her lips and swallowed. Part of her had been hoping he’d fail, but he hadn’t. Reluctantly she nodded. “Good.”

It was hard not to miss her tone. “You say that grudgingly.”

She lifted one shoulder in a careless gesture. “I was just wondering if there was something you weren’t good at.”

He laughed shortly and mostly at himself. “Lots of things.” He said the first thing that came to mind. “Conversations, for instance.”

“You seem to be holding your own.”

“You’re not being demanding.”

Putting down her fork, she looked at him. “And if I were?”

He thought of some of the dates he’d allowed himself to be set up with. “Then I’d probably shut up and be quiet.”

“Talk,” she urged, digging in again. “I like the sound of your voice.”

Her head down, she missed the smile that rose to his lips as he looked at her. No one had ever said that to him before.