Unmasking The Maverick

She felt as if she was living out a comedy sketch. In a noisy room when you said something embarrassing at the same moment everyone went silent and heard you. This was like that. Even the triplets, who could usually be counted on for sounds in a pitch only dogs could hear, were mirroring the adults around them and staring.

You could cut the awkwardness with a butter knife. Poor Mr. Tanner looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. She had to do something.

“I’m starving. Let’s get the food going.” Fiona started to grab her macaroni casserole, but it was as big as the state of Rhode Island. Instantly Brendan reached out and lifted it for her. She put some on her plate and his. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As if a switch had been flipped, everyone was taking food and passing platters around. Attention had been successfully diverted away from them.

Her relief was a little premature because when everyone had filled their plates it got quiet again. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. “So, Brendan, where did you learn to fix things?”

He finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “My dad taught me.”

“He must be very proud of you,” Fiona said.

“He was. He passed away not too long ago.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were automatic and felt so inadequate when a sort of sad, haunted look slipped into his eyes.

“Thanks.”

“I haven’t seen anything that Brendan can’t repair,” Luke said. “Your dad must have been a good teacher, and the skill he gave you is invaluable.”

Brendan looked thoughtful. “Funny you should say that. We didn’t have much, but dad’s knack for patching up what people threw out or paid him to fix put food on the table.”

“An honest living,” one of the men said.

“I suppose.” He looked down at the full plate of food in front of him. “Necessity was the mother I didn’t have.”

It was like a curiosity bomb went off in Fiona’s head. Follow-up questions exploded in her mind. But one of the triplets—Jared—made a bomb of his own and Fallon excused herself to change him.

The moment for interrogation passed when Hudson started talking to Brendan about horses. In Rust Creek Falls, that was like guys discussing cars anywhere else. It turned out that Brendan had worked on ranches in Texas for extra money. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

That wasn’t something she was going to ask. The less she knew about Brendan Tanner the better. She would bet he had a sad story, one that would engage her emotions. But he was a stranger and by his own admission was only in town temporarily. Matchmakers could throw them together until hell wouldn’t have it but they couldn’t make her play along.

Not again.

Chapter Two

Last night’s dinner ranked up there as one of the best meals Brendan ever had. He’d eaten enough to feed a whole platoon. The Stocktons were friendly and caring folks who opened their farm to a stranger looking for a fresh start and they kept on giving. He was grateful for that. If not for Fiona O’Reilly, he could check off every box of a perfect evening.

It was bad enough that she made the best macaroni and cheese he’d ever tasted, but she was also the sexiest mac-and-cheese maker he’d ever met. Her eyes were beautiful. That curvy body had him itching to touch her. And her smile promised heaven at the same time it sent him to hell. All night.

When he hadn’t tossed and turned from thinking about her, he’d been dreaming about having her in his bed. She was whip smart and wickedly funny, which was an irresistible combination. It meant danger up ahead, but only if he chose to go down that road. All he had to do was take a detour and avoid her.

That took care of his conscious mind. With luck the warning would filter down to his subconscious and keep her out of his dreams. He was a tumbleweed and she had deep roots here in Montana. Smart money was on sticking to his plan: get back in shape and reenlist in the Marine Corps where he belonged.

After an early morning run and workout, he went to the barn. Sunshine Farm made no demands on its guests but Brendan hated feeling useless and had gotten in the habit of helping feed the stock every morning. Today was no exception. He walked into the stable and grabbed a pitchfork to help spread hay for the horses.

Luke walked over and jammed his own long-handled tool into the bale. “Morning.”

“Back at you.”

“Glad you decided to join us for dinner last night. Any regrets?”

A few. None of which he’d talk about. “Best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Did I lie about the macaroni and cheese?”

“No.” Last night he’d been full and had still taken another helping. Eating for pleasure, which included the pleasure of rubbing elbows with the lady who’d made it.

“So, what do you think of Fiona?”

What did he think? Brendan was pretty sure that he was thinking about her more than he should be, and in ways that he didn’t want to. “I think she makes a mean macaroni.”

“Seriously? That’s it?”

“What else?” He sighed. “She seems nice.”

“I think she’s interested in you,” Luke commented. “Looked to me like there was a sparkle in her eyes when she stole glances at you.”

She was stealing glances at him? That didn’t suck. Then he shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”

“Nope. Eva saw it, too.”

“You talked to your wife about this?”

“We talk about everything. She’s my best friend, and then some,” Luke said. “Besides, in Rust Creek Falls, talking and spreading news is how we roll.”

He remembered Fiona saying something like that. “I think you’re both imagining things.”

“I disagree.”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. The question is, why me? I’m boring.”

“You’re new in town and single. And—don’t take this the wrong way—but you’re not a bad-looking guy.”

“Stop. I’m blushing.” The corners of his mouth curved up.

Luke laughed. “And Fiona is single, too.”

“A woman who looks like her must have men lined up around the block.”

“Not so much.”

Brendan stuck his pitchfork in the bale of hay and leaned on it as he looked at the other man. “Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

No, he wouldn’t be asking her anything, because it was unlikely there would be an opportunity to do that. “None of my business.”

“That could change.”

He grabbed the tool again, then forked up some hay and spread it in a nearby stall. “I don’t think so.”

“Time will tell.”

After that the two of them worked in silence until all the horses were taken care of. Brendan knew from being on ranches in Texas that these animals had small stomachs relative to their size and needed to be fed two to three times a day to maintain their weight. He made it a point to be around when that happened.

“Any other chores I can help with?” he asked.

Luke didn’t miss a beat before saying, “You can give serious consideration to opening a repair business here at Sunshine Farm.”

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

His friend smiled. “There is something. In a couple of days my brother Jamie is rounding up cattle from their summer grazing spot in the hills and bringing them back for the winter. I’m giving him a hand but he could use another man. You game? He’d be appreciative.”

“Glad to.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Least I can do.” Brendan sincerely meant that. He was grateful to be here and wanted to give back. There was something about this sunshine-yellow barn that brightened the dark places inside him.

Luke left shortly after that and Brendan went to his temporary shop in the barn. On the worktable was a food processor he’d started to take apart yesterday, before impulsively giving in to Luke’s dinner invitation. The lady who dropped it off was annoyed that it crapped out right after the warranty was up. She didn’t give the thing much of a chance at a second life and told him not to waste too much time trying. The thing was, after his morning workout he had nothing but time.

He removed a couple of small screws to separate the outer casing from the motor in order to assess the problem. Just as he was pulling it apart, his cell phone rang. He tapped the answer icon.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Fiona O’Reilly.”

“Oh. Hi.” His voice sounded rusty but he resisted the urge to clear his throat.

“Hi.” She hesitated a moment. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he lied. Hearing her voice brought back visions of her red hair and the teasing smile that had tension curling in his gut. “You?”

“Great.” Her voice sounded rusty, too, but she cleared her throat. “So, dinner last night was good.”

“Yeah. I’m not used to a spread like that.”

“If you stick around long enough, the calories will catch up to you.” She laughed ruefully. “I carry the proof of that on my hips.”

In his opinion her hips were perfect, along with the rest of her. But saying so seemed out of line. “I added an extra couple of miles to my morning run.”

“Speaking of running,” she said, “last night you disappeared after clearing the table and just before dessert. A less secure woman might think you were trying to get away from her.”

He had been, but not for the reason she probably thought. She was equal parts temptation and complication. Marines believed retreat wasn’t an option but he’d made an exception for her. Because he’d also been trained in survival.

“If I’d stayed any longer, I’d have had another helping of everything and that would’ve just been embarrassing.”

“Yeah. Eva outdid herself. She does the baking at Daisy’s Donuts, but she’s an all-around outstanding cook, too.”

“I found that out.” He waited for her to say something and when there was silence, he thought he’d lost her. “Fiona?”

“I’m here.” She cleared her throat again. “I have something to ask you.”

He frowned. Was it something he’d said at dinner? His remark about necessity being the mother he never had was one he wanted back in a big way. Bracing himself, he said, “Okay.”

“I was wondering if you could bring your fix-anything reputation out for a spin to my place and look at the tractor here on the ranch.”

Part of him wanted to say “no way,” but another part was ready to get there as fast as he could. Still, he was a civilian, a guest here, and that meant he needed to be especially polite to everyone because he owed the Stocktons.

“Look, Fiona, I don’t know if I’m the right guy—”

“Just a quick look. My dad usually can repair the ranch machinery but he’s stumped. I’ve called a repair shop in Kalispell but they can’t send someone for close to a week. It’s already October and winter is coming. There are time and weather-sensitive projects pending. You’d really be doing me a favor if you could swing by.”

That is a really bad idea, he thought. “I don’t know if that’s possible...” He let the words hang there, hoping she’d bail him out.

After several moments, she sighed. “That’s okay. It was just a thought. Apparently Luke mentioned to my father that you were handy with mechanical stuff and Dad asked me to call. But don’t worry about it. We’ll make do. Thanks anyway. I know you’re really busy.”

The disappointment in her voice grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. It felt like he’d just turned his back on a helpless kitten. Damn, hell and crap. “I’m not that busy. I’ll give it a look.”

“Really? I appreciate it so much. Thanks.”

He got directions, said he’d be right over, then disconnected the call and saved her number to his phone, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Suddenly Fiona O’Reilly had become his business and it ticked him off that Luke had been so right, so soon.

* * *

Fiona waited for Mr. Fix-it on the front porch. The interior of the O’Reilly family’s rambling ranch house wasn’t big enough for her and the nerves jumping around inside her. She hadn’t expected to see him at all and definitely not this soon. It made her wonder if fate was taking a page from Luke Stockton’s matchmaking book or just having a laugh at her expense.

She saw a black F-150 truck turn off the main road and head toward the house. That was a cue for the nerves to stop the jumping jacks, pull together and form a knot in her stomach. Why was she being such a twit? He was just another guy and didn’t even want to be here. She’d practically twisted his arm and he was simply doing it as a favor because she’d played the “Dad asked me to call you” card. Paddy O’Reilly would survive if Brendan had said no. But Brendan didn’t know that and now she had to see him.

The truck stopped in front of her and she noticed his Texas license plate in a United States Marine Corps frame. Pulling her denim jacket tighter against the chilly north wind, she left the porch to meet him as he exited the truck. Then he grabbed a red toolbox from the rear bed.

“Hey, thanks for coming.”

“No problem.” Politely he touched the brim of his Stetson. “If you’ll point me in the right direction, I’ll take a look at the tractor.”

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything? I’ve got an extra to-go mug. My father and brothers, Ronan and Keegan, use them all the time.” She was babbling and he was letting her. It wasn’t easy but she stopped talking.

“No coffee. Thanks anyway.”

“Okay. The tractor is parked in the shed down there next to the stable.”

“This is a nice spread,” he said as they walked. “I saw the sign as I drove in. Rusty Bucket Ranch. Interesting name.”

“Kind of whimsical but down to earth.” She smiled up at him. “My ancestors emigrated from Ireland. They made their living from the land and wanted to do that in America. So they came West and found this property. After buying it, as the tale goes, they had nothing left but a rusty bucket. The name stuck.”

“And they prospered.”

“Yeah. We have all this.” She gazed from the white, split rail corral fence and stable to the other ranch buildings and the barn her brothers had converted into their living space. “And a tractor that won’t start.”

“Let’s see what we can do to change that.” He followed her into the shed.

“You can set your toolbox on the worktable there.” She went to the other end and opened the doors to give him more light, then came back. Her breath caught when she saw that he’d removed his long-sleeved flannel shirt. The olive green T-shirt he wore under it was snug and fit him like a second skin that highlighted every luscious muscle.

She swallowed, then said, “So, here she is. Sorry about the tool explosion there. My dad left all his stuff out. He was going to take another look at it. Just between you, me and the goats, that would involve less looking and a lot more colorful language. When he’s working on this tractor, the words run more to the four-letter variety.”

While she nattered on, he’d opened the side panel to inspect the inside. Without looking up, he said, “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve been known to swear, but only when necessary. And always in a ladylike way.” She heard him chuckle and that brought a smile to her face. Resting her back against the workbench, she settled in to keep him company. Hand him tools. Admire the way his back muscles moved and bunched under that snug shirt. Check out his world-class butt in the worn jeans. “And I guess I also have a way with words that are more than four letters.”

“How’s that?” He didn’t look up but kept poking around in the tractor engine.

“I write freelance articles about ranch life for farm and outdoor magazines.”

“What kind of articles?”

“A recent one was about recycling bent nails, rusty hinges and old bottles. A rancher’s motto is ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.’”

“I know all about that,” he said wryly.

She remembered him saying he’d grown up making do. “I’m working on an article now about preparing for the winter. Cold weather in Montana isn’t for sissies.”

“I bet.”

“So, between my writing job and chores on the ranch, I keep pretty busy.”

“Sounds like it. A good life.”

“It is. I love what I do.”

“You’re lucky.”

She couldn’t see his expression but there was a wistful tone in his voice. Since he had his head buried in the engine, this might be a good time to ask some of the questions that had been rolling around in her mind when she couldn’t sleep last night.

She’d hoped he would open up a little while ago when she called, but he didn’t. Maybe he would now. What was the worst that could happen? He’d take his tools and go home? She was willing to risk it.

“So, dinner last night was awkward. Did you notice how we got paired off?”

“Yup.” He still didn’t look at her. “This morning when I was helping with chores, Luke asked what I thought about you.”

“No. Really? What did you say?” That was unexpected.

“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

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?”