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“I told him you make a mean macaroni.”
And? Her heart skipped a beat waiting for...what? Didn’t matter because he didn’t come through with more. “At least you didn’t say I was mean.”
“Actually, I said you seem nice.”
“I think I am. But Luke was probably just making polite conversation. Not necessarily matchmaking.”
“There’s more. He underlined the fact that you’re single and I’m single.”
“And?” she prompted.
“And I asked him why you’re still single.”
“What did he say?”
“That I should ask you. So, why are you still single?”
“Because I’m not married,” she said.
“Smart-ass. So why aren’t you married?”
If that question had come up at dinner last night she would have been angry and defensive. With so many people watching her reaction, it would have felt too much like the public way she’d found out the man she’d expected a proposal from had cheated on her and gotten a girl pregnant. But now they were alone, and Brendan wasn’t even looking at her, so it felt like the solitude of the confessional.
“So many reasons for being single,” she started. “I’m too old—pushing thirty, a spinster by Old West standards. Not thin enough. Men seem to like stick women who have to run around in the shower to get wet. On top of that there are no men here in Rust Creek Falls—”
“Don’t look now but—” Without turning he lifted a greasy hand. “Man. Says so right on my driver’s license.”
“Okay. That last one deserves some context. I grew up in Rust Creek Falls. Spent my whole life here and most of the guys have, too. They’re friends of Ronan and Keegan and, by extension, like my brothers. So...ew. It’s too weird. That makes meeting men a challenge.”
“Okay. I respect your honesty.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Luke was just doing his part, then.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him. “Look at you paying attention and participating in the conversation.”
“I’ve been told I’m too quiet. So I’ve been making an effort since I got out.”
By “out” she assumed he meant leaving the military. Since he was doing his best to take part, she’d give him an opportunity to share. Maybe the fact that he was elbow-deep in a tractor engine would help.
“I noticed your license plate holder. So you were a marine?”
“Yup. From Prosperity, Texas.” He picked up a tool from the workbench beside him. “I loved the Corps. It was a good career.”
She could hear respect, reverence and regret in his tone. And, frankly, he sounded a little lost. “Why did you leave, then?”
“My dad got sick. Cancer. I came home to be with him.”
“That must have been a difficult time. I bet you miss him.”
His movements stilled for a moment. “Yeah.”
Fiona knew about Luke and Eva’s plan to offer a stay at Sunshine Farm to someone going through a hard time in order to pay their happiness and good luck forward. They were always looking for someone in need of a fresh start. With these bits of information Brendan had revealed, she could see why they’d opened their arms to him. “So you’re trying to figure out what to be when you grow up?”
He didn’t answer but straightened from his troubleshooting position over the engine and climbed up on the tractor. The key was in the ignition and he turned it. Instantly the engine rumbled to life. He nodded. Anyone else would have pumped their arm or woo-hooed in triumph. A victory boot scoot wouldn’t be out of the question, either. But not this man. His reaction was quiet satisfaction.
He turned off the machine and climbed down. “Mission accomplished.”
“What did you do?”
“There were some wires way down in the belly, hard to see, right next to the housing for—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “My head will explode if you say one more word.”
“Okay.” He grinned as he grabbed a rag and wiped the worst of the grease off his hands.
The look was so darn cute it liquefied her brain cells. That’s when she realized talking to him without eye contact was much easier. Pull it together, Fiona, she told herself. “If my dad wants to know what you did I’ll just have him call you.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously, though, thank you so much. Come on up to the house and I’ll give you a check for your work. What do I owe you?”
Without missing a beat he said, “Dinner.”
That surprised her. This was business and usually that involved taking payment for one’s work. So maybe she’d misunderstood. “I’d be happy to buy you dinner, but—”
He shook his head. “A gentleman would never let a lady pay. I want to buy you dinner.”
She almost blurted out, “Shut the front door,” but managed to hold back. “Let me get this straight. You fixed my dad’s tractor and want to take me to dinner as payment?”
“Yes. Tomorrow night. On one condition.”
“What?” she asked, a little suspicious now.
He grabbed his flannel shirt, slung it over his broad shoulder by one finger and met her gaze. “Just you and me. No family.”
He wanted to be alone with her? Pinch me, she thought. This had to be a dream. A handsome man, single and sexy, was asking her out to dinner? This was shocking. She’d been so sure he was running away from her last night.
“Fiona?”
“Oh. Right.” She smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at six thirty. Is that okay?”
Heck, yes. But all she said was, “That would be fine.”
What in the world was she going to wear?
Chapter Three (#u97b03bc2-4543-55d0-be8e-c6f45e0dd20e)
What had he been thinking?
“Tanner, you’re an idiot. Asking the woman to dinner. In payment for services rendered, no less.” And now he was talking to himself. The downward spiral into hell was picking up speed and momentum.
His father must be turning over in his grave about this. He could just hear it. That’s no way to make a living. Since when do we not take money for our work?
Since the woman he did the work for looked like Fiona. That smile... When the tractor engine sputtered to life, she’d looked at him again as if he’d hung the moon. A man could get used to that.
“Knock, knock.”
Brendan turned away from his workbench and saw an older woman standing in the doorway. She was probably in her sixties, not very tall and had shoulder-length silver hair. There was spitfire in her eyes and a blender in her arms.
She moved closer and looked up at him. “Are you Brendan Tanner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She held out her hand. “Edna Halstead.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. Luke Stockton says you can fix anything.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m pretty good at repairs.” He nodded at the small appliance she was holding. “Having trouble with that?”
“Blasted thing just quit. They don’t make things like they used to. It’s practically new.”
“That’s always the way. I’ll see what I can do.”
She handed it over. “Just when I got my husband to drink protein shakes, too.”
“I’m guessing he’d be just as happy if I couldn’t fix this.” He put the base and pitcher on the workbench then looked back at her still staring at him. “Was there something else?”
“Mind looking at it now? I’d rather not make another trip out here. Unless you’re too busy...”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. I wouldn’t expect it would take long. It isn’t the space station. If it’s a goner, I expect you’ll know that right away.”
“Yeah.” He picked up a small screwdriver to take apart the base.
“I don’t expect a lifetime warranty,” she said. “Still, you should get a little more time out of something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s not expensive to get another one, but just on general principle I don’t want to do that.”
“No, ma’am.” He checked out all the connections and the cord, then cleaned and tightened anything that looked to be loose while the woman chattered away.
“The thing is, my husband, J.T., and I are retired and on a fixed income, so we have a budget.”
“Understood.”
“Are you military, Mr. Tanner?”
“Was.” And he missed it, even more after losing his dad. He missed his brothers. Missed doing work that was important. Now he had no mission, no focus except to be in the best possible physical shape for reenlisting.
“What branch of the service?” Her eyes glittered with interest.
“Marine Corps.”
“Semper fi. Your service is much appreciated and welcome home.”
“Thank you.” He stopped working and met her gaze. “Were you in the military?”
She shook her head. “Only by marriage. J.T. was a marine.”
“Vietnam?”
“Did my age give it away?” she teased.
“No, ma’am. What is it they say? Fifty is the new forty?”
She laughed. “I’m a little north of that. Almost seventy. And you know it.”
“Doesn’t show. And what I know is a lot of service members who served their country during that conflict were never properly welcomed home. That wasn’t right.”
“No.” Her mouth pulled tight for a moment. “Since then folks have learned to separate service to country from politics. Hopefully that will never happen again. Some make the ultimate sacrifice. Others live with physical disabilities.”
Something in her expression said she knew about that. “Your husband?”
“He lost a leg—above the knee.”
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am.”
“Stop calling me that. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel like I lived through the Revolutionary War. Edna, Ed or Eddie will do.”
“Yes, ma—” He saw her glare and stopped. “Eddie.”
“Good choice.” She grinned. “And don’t be feeling sorry for J.T. He’s taken it in stride, if you’ll pardon the pun. He’s one tough marine. The few—”
“The proud. The Marines,” he finished.
“Oorah.”
He closed up the blender base. “There’s no real obvious sign of trouble. I tightened a few loose wires and made sure the rest was shipshape. Let’s plug it in and see.”
“Sure do hope you’re as good as Luke claims.”
“Here goes.” He saw her cross her fingers.
He plugged in the blender and with one last look at her he pushed a button. The thing came to life and the woman smiled her appreciation.
