The Cowboy's Return. Susan CrosbyЧитать онлайн книгу.
asked. “We were just sitting down to lunch.”
“I could use a little something, thanks.”
“Where’s your gear?”
He hitched a thumb toward the road. “My truck broke down just as I arrived.”
They entered the clean, cared-for house. Mitch hadn’t been inside for years, but it looked pretty much the same as he remembered. Old, threadbare furnishings and rag rugs filled the space. Maybe the curtains were new. Framed photos scattered about were her own, but nothing else had her stamp on it.
“I’d like to wash up first,” he said.
“Second door on the right.”
He nodded his thanks and headed in that direction, wondering how any woman hired a guy off the street like that, without even knowing his full name, offering him a room in her house, trusting him around her son—and herself.
But then, he’d never been as desperate as she seemed to be. Maybe he would do all sorts of things not in the usual way if he found himself in the same straits.
He could give her a few days’ help, give himself time to feel at home again. Win-win, he figured.
Annie Barnard let out a calming breath as she ladled chili into a bowl for the man, Mitch. No last name, apparently. It was fine with her. He’d come recommended, and they’d agreed she would pay him in cash anyway. What was one more risk?
“Did you run a background check on him, Mom?” Austin whispered.
Her ten-year-old knew way too much about the scary parts of life, Annie thought. “I’m a good judge of character, honey.” The man spoke well, wore clean clothes, was freshly shaven. His dark brown hair had been professionally cut. And those brilliant blue eyes just plain ol’ looked honest.
Most important, she needed help. Desperately. Right now. Even if it came from a one-named drifter with an unreliable truck and a strong, powerful body. He looked like he could manage the heavy lifting around her little farm.
Annie closed her eyes for a moment. She could not fail at this. She needed to be successful—for herself, but especially for Austin. He was entitled to a stable home and good role models, more than she’d ever had. She’d grown up in a family where people didn’t live in houses long enough to establish a home or keep jobs long enough to become a career. She wanted roots for herself and her son. And she loved her ramshackle farm.
Mitch took a seat where she’d set the bowl. She passed him a basket with saltine crackers. The meal wasn’t fancy, but it was filling. Soon they would have fresh vegetables from their garden. Almost everything she’d canned or frozen from last year’s slim crop was gone. They ate a lot of protein-rich beans.
“This is great,” Mitch said. “Good and spicy.”
“Thanks. We have it a lot.”
“A whole lot,” Austin added. “Sometimes she mixes spaghetti into it. I like that.”
“Sounds tasty,” Mitch said. “What’s first on your list of chores, Annie?”
“I bought a new high tunnel greenhouse, so the old one needs to be disposed of. We can pile it somewhere until we can get rid of it.”
“All right. Mind if I push my truck closer to the house first? I’m hoping I can fix what’s wrong with it myself.”
“I’ve got a tractor you can use to pull it. You can put it in the shed, out of the weather, if you want.”
“That’d be great, thanks,” Mitch said. “How long have you owned this place?”
“My ex-husband inherited it from his uncle two years ago. We decided to give it a try. He didn’t take to being a grower, but I did.” The truth was she’d fallen in love with the farm and out of love with him. And he’d fallen out of love with both.
“I’m going to visit him in San Diego before school starts,” Austin said. “My first airplane ride. You ever been on a plane, Mr. Mitch?”
“Just recently, in fact. I was working at a cattle ranch in Argentina. Do you know where that is?”
“No. Can we look it up on the internet?”
“We can do that.”
“Was it fun?”
“Yes, and hard work.”
“You can question Mitch after supper, Austin. For now we need to get to work.”
That brought an end to the conversation. Soon after, they went outside. Annie drove the tractor as Mitch and Austin walked alongside.
“Wow! Cool truck!” Austin said, running to it. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Her name is Lulu and she’s a 1954 Chevy,” Mitch said. “She belonged to my grandfather. He gave her to me on my sixteenth birthday, so I’ve had her a long time.”
“She looks good.”
“I love this old girl. I’ve taken care of her.” He ran a hand over her fender affectionately. “Unfortunately she’s been sitting in someone’s garage for three years while I was gone.”
Annie wondered what that large, competent hand would feel like against her own skin. When she’d first spotted him from her kitchen window as he walked toward her house, she’d been worried. She couldn’t see his face, just the cowboy hat, solid belt buckle, tight jeans and boots—the whole cowboy thing. She’d been ready to send him on his way. She needed help, but she didn’t need anyone that good-looking, that tempting. Then he’d spoken respectfully and intelligently, including to Austin, and his appeal increased in a different way.
“Lulu’s got five windows,” Austin said as Mitch hooked up the tow chain from the tractor to the truck. “I’ve never seen that before. She kinda needs a paint job.”
“Maybe someday I’ll splurge for one. I’m fond of her flaws, though. I always think about my granddad when I drive her. Annie, would you like to steer the tractor or the truck?”
“I’ll take the truck. I’ve never pulled anything that big.” She hopped inside the spotless vehicle, noted a large duffel bag on the floorboard. He’d been gone a long time. Were these his sole possessions?
Mitch came up to the driver’s window. “Put ‘er in Neutral, would you?”
“Does the seat move up? I can’t reach the clutch.”
He opened the door, found a lever and held it while she slid the whole split-bench seat forward. He smelled good. Clean. Not like aftershave, but like a breath of fresh air among the farm smells.
“Where’s Neutral?” she asked, feeling ridiculous, but the gear knob wasn’t etched with a diagram.
“Step on the clutch. Excuse me.” He reached across her lap and wiggled the gearshift. “That’s it. Just keep her true and steady. I’ll do the work.”
It took him a couple of seconds to take his arm away. Her thighs were on fire where he touched them. No man had laid a hand on her for a very long time. Now this sexy stranger was going to be living in her house, sleeping in the room next to hers, using the same bathroom.
He shut the truck door and jogged up to the tractor, where Austin was sitting, already forming an attachment to the man. “You allowed to drive?” Annie heard Mitch ask her son.
He shook his head. If Austin said anything, Annie couldn’t hear it. It’d been a bone of contention between them. He thought he was old enough. Maybe he was. Maybe she babied him too much, overprotected him. Farm life was different for kids. Several of his friends drove tractors already.
But Austin was likely the only child she would have, because she sure wasn’t getting married ever again, so she probably clung to him too much. She would only have him for eight more years before he was a