Mia Ross - Loving the Country Boy

“It’s not,” he admitted in a gentler tone. “But I hate to see anyone close off who they are just to try and fit in. God made us who we are for a reason, and it’s up to us to figure out a way to work with what He gave us.”

Tess was stunned by the little sermon. The easygoing mechanic didn’t strike her as the preachy type. To be honest, she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of his certainty. Knowing there was a purpose to your life must be comforting when things got tough.

“You really believe that?” she asked. When he nodded, she frowned. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Most folks don’t, until something goes wrong. Then they start looking around and realize if they’d just had a little more faith, things would’ve ended up better for them.”

Was that why things had gone so disastrously for her up to now? she wondered. Because she was meant to be somewhere else, or with someone else?

Or both?

Bewildered by questions she couldn’t begin to answer, she shook off her brooding and forced a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. Meantime, thanks so much for your help with the truck. I’m sure the crew’s already at the mill, and I’d hate to be late for work two days in a row.”

“No problem.” Angling his head toward the pickup, he gave her a sly look. “I got a feeling it’ll start right up for you this afternoon.”

“Unless Gram has an accomplice at the mill. You know she takes full credit for finally getting Paul, Jason and Scott married off, right?”

“Not Scott,” Heath protested. “We’ve been friends forever, and he’s as bullheaded as they come. When he got home from prison and started working on the old homestead, he was doing the hermit thing till he met Jenna. She turned his head all on her own.”

“I’m not denying she’s fabulous, but Aunt Diane told me Jenna had a little help from Gram.” She waved her fingers in a mystical gesture. “Chelsea and Amy did, too, and I don’t hear the boys complaining about it.”

“True enough,” he admitted with a grin. “Gotta admit the three of ’em did all right for a bunch of clueless hounds.”

“Those shenanigans won’t work with me, though. I’m onto her game, and much as I appreciate the effort, I won’t be playing along.”

“I don’t know,” he drawled, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “It might be fun.”

His not-so-subtle suggestion made her laugh, and she realized she’d done that more in the past twenty-four hours than she had for months. Then again, she hadn’t had much to laugh about lately. “Not a chance, country boy. You’d start off pretending, and before you knew what happened, it would all be for real. Then where would you be?”

“In love with you.”

His entire demeanor had gone dead serious, and she searched those vivid blue eyes for a sign that he was yanking her chain. When she couldn’t find one, her heart lurched in sheer panic. “What?”

“Gotcha.” Chuckling, he winked at her. “You should see your face right now. It’s the color of a bleached sheet.”

“I—well—” Appalled to hear herself stammering like some brainless twit, she took a moment to get her pulse out of startled-hummingbird range. “Good one. You know I have to get you back now, right?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t.”

“When you least expect it...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he retorted, rocking his head in a derisive motion. “That’s what they all say.”

As he sauntered away, she found herself speechless, mouth open like a beached fish while she hunted for a decent comeback. Since she couldn’t come up with anything suitably crushing, she shouted, “In your dreams, Weatherby!”

Without looking back, he held up his hand before climbing into what could only be described as a red mini–monster truck. Still rattled by their bizarre exchange, she took solace in the fact that she’d gotten the last word. Only because he’d let her, she realized while she put the sawmill truck in gear and headed in the opposite direction Heath had taken.

Still, considering the way her life had been going recently, she’d take any victory she could get.

* * *

Tess Barrett was really starting to bug him. He just didn’t know why.

Pounding out the bent sheet metal on the front fender of Olivia’s sedan, Heath let his mind wander to her headstrong granddaughter for a few minutes. Their spirited exchange that morning echoed in his mind, amusing him one second and aggravating him the next. Just like she did, he realized with a scowl.

He just didn’t know why.

Realizing his thoughts had begun to repeat themselves, he did his best to put them aside and focus on his work. It was tough to do when all he could think about was how the flowing pink blouse Tess was wearing today set off her eyes, not to mention the fact that she smelled like magnolias on a warm summer evening.

The iron mallet he was using slipped off the fender and nailed his thumb hard enough to jerk him back to reality. Shaking his throbbing hand, he set down the hammer and took a swig of cold water before holding the bottle against the bruise that was already forming beneath his skin.

“Man needs to pay attention when he’s swinging one o’ those things.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Heath found his boss, Fred Morgan, watching him with a bemused look on his craggy face. He was the one who’d taken Heath under his wing as a teenager, showing him how to turn his natural-born love of all things mechanical into a job he could do anywhere. Not to mention, he’d made a spot for Heath when he returned from Alaska, no questions asked.

Chuckling at his own clumsiness, Heath got to his feet and held up his hand. “Nothing’s broken, so I’ll live.”

“Good to hear.”

“Did you need something?”

“Just making sure you’re all here,” Fred replied in his usual forthright way. “You seemed a little distracted when you came in this morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“Tess Barrett could distract a dead man out of his own grave,” the older man continued with a knowing look.

“How’d you—oh, right. Your wife has binoculars.”

“Technically, they’re mine, but she uses ’em a lot more than I do. Just thought you oughta know the hens are watching you, so make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” Heath figured saying anything more than he already had would only get him a lecture he didn’t want, so he deftly changed the subject. “I made out a parts list for this monster. It’s on your desk.”

“I’ll go call it in.”

“Y’know, they’ve got a website where you can enter everything yourself. You get an email confirmation and a quicker delivery date because they don’t have to pay someone to answer the phone and write it all down.”

Fred gave him a baffled look. “Then what happens to Edie, the nice old lady who takes down orders for them? One of the reasons I deal with them is I like talking to a person instead of punching my way through some automated menu till I finally get to the right department.”

“She could spend that time doing other things.”

“Like what? It’s a parts warehouse. You think they’re gonna teach her how to drive a forklift or something?”

Since he’d never given any thought to how their parts supplier functioned, Heath didn’t have an answer for that one. “Okay, you got me there. Edie wins this round.”

“Good boy. Now, get back to work before I take this break outta your lunch.”

He punctuated that with a vague motion toward the jacked-up sedan then headed back to his office. While Heath did his best to go along with Fred’s order, all on its own his mind circled back to the original topic of their odd discussion.