Читать книгу Cowboy to the Rescue - Trish Milburn - Страница 9

Ryan decided not to examine his reasons for accepting Brooke’s offer too closely. He was just going to stick with the fact that he needed help until his hand healed. He still couldn’t believe the klutzy move. It was a wonder the U.S. Army had ever allowed him to pack a gun.

“Turn here.” He pointed to the street coming up on the right. “We’ll drop off your tires first so Greg can have them ready before we head back to the ranch.”

Brooke made the turn. She’d grown quiet on the ride into town, but it didn’t bother him. For the most part, he wasn’t a chatty guy. He’d already talked to her more in their short acquaintance than he had to some of his neighbors in months.

“Hey, there’s your mom.” She pointed out his side of the windshield.

“Yeah, that’s her art gallery.”

“She has a gallery? Wow. She mentioned painting, but I had no idea it was a profession.”

“It’s still pretty new. Grace runs her interior design business out of there, too. Also has the new-car smell.”

Brooke smiled. “You Teagues seem to be a talented bunch.” She nodded toward the furniture riding in the bed of the truck. “Including you.”

“It’s a living.”

“It’s art as much as painting.”

He barely knew this woman, but that simple praise from her sent a wave of warmth through him.

“I can’t imagine doing anything remotely artistic,” she said.

“But you do. With food.”

She glanced at him. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a job.”

“Building furniture is just my job.” Granted, he enjoyed it, but wasn’t that what you wanted from a job, something that wasn’t drudgery? “Do you not like cooking?” He’d have sworn otherwise.

“Oh, I love to cook. Just never thought of it as art before. At least not what I prepare.”

“Take it from the guy whose fanciest dish is mac and cheese from a box, what you do is art.”

She smiled. “Maybe I should autograph all my dishes then.”

His own smile responded to hers. “Maybe you should.”

He directed her to Greg’s garage then hopped out to find his friend. Greg wandered out in his grease-stained jeans and Longhorns T-shirt, wiping his hands on a shop towel.

“Hey, Ry. What’s up, man?” That’s when Greg noticed Brooke approaching. “Damn, I heard the new cook was hot, but Simon was holding out.”

Ryan suspected Brooke was close enough to overhear. “Classy,” he said and punched Greg in the shoulder. “I told her you could fix a couple of flat tires this afternoon. Don’t make me into a liar.”

Greg extended his hand. “Greg Bozeman, ma’am. And for you, all these other jokers can wait.”

Ryan noticed a touch of unease in Brooke’s eyes as she shook Greg’s hand, and he got the feeling it didn’t have anything to do with Greg’s grease-stained fingers. Maybe she just didn’t want to encourage any flirting. Goodness knew she was getting enough of that from Simon.

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“How are you liking your new job?” Greg shoved his hands into his pockets, as if trying to hide them. Brooke seemed to have all the men she met acting out of character.

“I like it.”

“I see you’re having to beat these Teague boys off with a stick.” He gestured toward Ryan’s bandaged hand.

Brooke looked startled for a moment then recovered. “No, he managed that all by himself.”

“No doubt to earn some sympathy from a pretty lady.”

Ryan resisted slugging Greg again. “On that note …” He turned for the truck. “Get those tires done or I’m going to Bernie’s next time.”

Greg laughed. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

After Greg retrieved the flat tires, Brooke climbed into the driver’s seat. Ryan thought about offering to drive, but truth was his hand was throbbing as though he’d stabbed a spear right through it.”

“So Bernie’s is the competition?” she asked once they were back on the road.

Ryan barked out a laugh. “If you can call him that. He’s eight hundred if he’s a day, and he piddles with cars on the days when he doesn’t decide to run a roadside taco stand or go into the Christmas-tree farm business.”

“The resident jack-of-all-trades, huh?”

“And master of none.”

Brooke drove slowly through the main part of town. “Blue Falls seems like a nice place, slow-paced.”

She sounded as if part of her liked the idea of the laid-back way of things here and part didn’t know quite how to adjust to it. He resisted the uncharacteristic urge to delve into her past. It wasn’t his business, and he never said anything that invited others to ask about his past.

“It’s home.”

Before they headed to the Rochester, they made the side trip to the Mayfairs’ house to deliver the table and chairs.

“Looks like you’ve got an eager customer waiting.” Brooke indicated Rob Mayfair standing on the edge of his front porch.

“Yeah, we’re trying to get this inside before his wife, Julie, comes home. It’s an anniversary gift.”

“That’s very sweet.” Brooke parked close to the porch and cut the engine.

As soon as they exited the truck, Rob shot them a wide smile. “You must be doing well, son, if you’ve got a chaffeur now.”

Ryan held up his bandaged hand. “Needed some extra hands.”

“Well, I’m sure hers are a damn sight prettier than yours.”

“Definitely.” Ryan glanced at Brooke in time to notice a flush to her cheeks. He wasn’t prepared for how that simple, innocent look punched him in the chest.