Loving the Country Boy

“I don’t know what’s wrong with this thing. It started just fine all day yesterday. Then this morning—” She blew a raspberry, which wasn’t very ladylike but expressed her feelings perfectly.

He laughed, and she trailed after him, watching him lever open the hood and peer inside. After about five seconds, he muttered, “Don’t look now, but your grandmother’s eyeballing us. Think she knows enough about cars to manage some basic sabotage? Maybe hoping I’d stop and help a damsel in distress?”

Tess groaned. “Definitely. That would explain the hushed conversation she had with Chelsea last night. We already knew she and the baby were okay, so I couldn’t figure out what else they’d be whispering about. When I asked Gram about it later, she pulled the innocent act on me. ‘I have no idea what you’re referring to, dear,’” Tess mimicked her huffy response. “She had me convinced I was overtired and my imagination was playing tricks on me. She even sent me up to my room to get a good night’s sleep, like I was seven years old or something.”

“That tracks with what Chelsea said to me yesterday at the mill,” Heath’s voice rumbled from under the rusty hood. “Apparently, she thinks we’d make a great pair.”

“Of what?”

“Good one,” he said, letting out another laugh.

“They’re loony, both of them. Only crazy people would even think of putting us together, much less conspiring to make it happen. We’re like night and day.”

“No argument here.” Extracting himself from the engine compartment, he took a brightly colored handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his hands before dropping the hood. “I think you’re set now. Why don’t you get in and give it a whirl?”

She did, and the truck started right up. Of course it did, she thought, glancing at the house. She couldn’t see anyone, but she was confident Gram was still watching them to gauge the results of her trickery. “It’s kind of sweet, really. Don’t you think?”

“Sweet and sneaky,” he said with a good-natured look. “Southern women can be that way, and I guess the Barretts are no exception. How ’bout you?”

“Not me. If I like you, I’ll tell you straight to your face.”

“And if you don’t?” he asked with a grin.

“I’ll tell you that, too.” Pausing, she let out a sigh. “It got me in no end of trouble with my ex’s family. All his sisters-in-law are the polite, proper type. When we got serious about each other, I tried everything I could think of to be more like them. I thought I did a pretty good job of fitting in, but it turned out I was wrong.”

“Why would you even bother?” he demanded with a disapproving scowl.

His question sliced through her with a precision that made her hackles rise in self-defense. She told herself it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d asked herself the exact same thing at least a hundred times. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“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.

Tess.

As he resumed dissecting his unusual morning, one thing became very clear to him. In a village this size, chances were they’d be seeing a lot of each other. That meant he had to come up with a way to deflect all the unwanted attention they seemed to be attracting whenever they were together. Because if he didn’t, the gossips were going to drive both of them nuts.

Chapter Four

Obviously, these men were completely helpless.

Appalled by the minimal basic skills the sawmill’s crew of carpenters seemed to possess, Tess grumbled to herself while she made two pots of long-overdue coffee for the commercial system in the lobby. The trail of donut crumbs leading back toward the saw area told her they’d at least managed to feed themselves, so she got a broom from the supply closet and swept the mess out the front door and off the porch. Boyd and Daisy probably took care of that on a normal day, she thought as she went around opening windows to let in some of the crisp fall air.

But this wasn’t a normal day, and without Chelsea here to get everything organized for her, Tess had a lot of catching up to do. Squaring her shoulders, she strode into the office and took stock. There was no point in sugarcoating it, she realized. The place was a complete wreck. Paperwork, receipts and invoices were strewn across the desk, and a light dusting of animal fur covered pretty much everything. Even though she wasn’t allergic, just pawing through the layers got her sneezing, and she changed tracks. Clean first, then organize.

With the benefit of some perspective, she recognized that was what she should have done yesterday. The problem was she’d been too overwhelmed by her unfamiliar surroundings to be sensible about—well, anything. Her unhelpful deer-in-the-headlights attitude was history, and she promised herself she wasn’t leaving today until everything was processed and neatly tucked in its proper place.

Chelsea’s baby wasn’t due for another eight weeks, and her condition was more delicate than Tess had understood until this morning. Now that she had an inkling of how the rest of the pregnancy might go, it was obvious to her that she’d have to be lighter on her feet than she was accustomed to. In the interest of beginning her new, more independent life, she’d have to learn how to cope when things went awry. It wasn’t just about her anymore, and her family was counting on her to pitch in and keep the business running as smoothly as Chelsea had.

She’d never been in charge of anything before, but there was no one else to take on that responsibility. Feeling way out of her depth, she pushed her doubts away and finished tidying up the waiting area. One task down, she thought morosely as she reluctantly trudged into the office, a hundred more to go.

When Scott poked his head in the door, she snarled, “What?”

Her cousin backed up, his brown eyes narrowing in response to her mood. “Just wanted to let you know we’re firing up the saws. It’s gonna get pretty loud out here.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she replied in a slightly less cranky tone. “I’m sorry for biting your head off. It’s just—”

“This place is a disaster zone, and you don’t know what to tackle first,” he filled in with an understanding smile. “Mostly, you’re worried about Chelsea and the baby. We all are.”

Tess had grown accustomed to managing life’s unexpected curves on her own, and she found it comforting to know she no longer had to hide her feelings and soldier on, no matter what. “Thanks for understanding.” Looking around, she muttered, “Those headphones must be somewhere.”

Grinning, Scott reached around the door frame and plucked them from a hook on the wall. Exactly where Chelsea had left them, of course.

“Thanks again,” she said, feeling slightly ridiculous. Fortunately, he didn’t mention it, which she really appreciated.

“Sure. I’ll come let you know when it’s safe to take them off.”

With that, he sauntered back toward the production floor, sliding the heavy door shut behind him. Built of solid oak, it blocked some of the sound but did nothing to blunt the thumping vibrations that shook the mill house while the equipment was operating at full speed. Tess focused her attention on the bookkeeping and after a while, anything that wasn’t on the computer screen faded into the background. She was sorting through the online orders that had come in when she noticed the screen on her cell phone blinking with a call.

When she saw it was Paul, she ripped off her headphones and hit Answer all in one motion. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tess,” he answered in an exhausted voice. “How’re things going out there?”

“Oh, fine.” Suddenly, she realized everything was ominously quiet, and the floorboards were no longer shuddering beneath her shoes. With the backlog of orders lined up to be filled, that couldn’t be good, but she decided not to mention it to Paul. “I assume you’re calling with news.”

“Yeah. We’re home now, but the doctor doesn’t like the looks of Chelsea’s blood pressure or the baby’s heartbeat. She’s on bed rest for the duration, starting now.”

An argument was brewing out on the shop floor, and Tess cupped her hand around the phone to keep it from reaching her worried cousin. “You sound wrung out yourself, so stay home today. We can handle this place for a day without you.”

“We? It sounds like you’re trying to take over my business.”

“Trust me, if I was going to do that, it would be at a nice little boutique where I don’t have to worry about losing my hearing,” she retorted in her sauciest tone. “Your precious sawmill is safe from me.”

“Good to know.” She heard a muffled back and forth, then he came back on the line. “Chelsea wanted me to remind you the printer’s been repaired and is waiting for you at the office supply store in town. Unless you want to write everything down by hand for the crew, you’ll need it.”

Tess swallowed a groan of frustration. Apparently, this was going to be one of those days. “Right. Now go get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Actually, if you can make do without me, I’d like to take Thursday and Friday off, too. Chelsea can’t go up and down the stairs for the next few weeks, so I have to hurry up and finish the extra bathroom I’ve been working on to get everything she needs on the ground floor.”

“Not a problem,” Tess assured him, hoping she came across as more confident than she actually felt. “Chelsea and the baby come first. Take all the time you need.”

“We’re not going anywhere, so call if you get stuck on something.”

“Will do.”

After she hung up, she summoned every ounce of her patience and went to see what the fuss in the back room was about. The sliding door was even heavier than it looked, and it took a determined push for her to get it open. Once she did, she wished she hadn’t.

It looked like several pieces of machinery had exploded at once, spewing oil over everything from the equipment to the hewn lumber that had been stacked according to size in the center of the room. Scott and Jason hadn’t escaped the deluge, and they were standing by the long saw run, arms folded stubbornly while they glowered at each other and debated what to do. As their argument escalated into an all-out shouting match, she shook her head in disgust.

Boys. No matter how old they got, they could still be the dumbest creatures on the planet. Since they didn’t seem to understand that yelling wouldn’t solve anything, she strode in to impose some kind of order. She waited a few seconds for them to notice her then realized they’d probably go on like this until one of them either conceded or ran out of air. Being Barretts, neither of those was likely to happen anytime soon.

Filling her lungs, she yelled, “Hey!” That didn’t make an impression, so she tried again. “Shut up!”

Nothing. Exasperated beyond belief, she recalled the advice her grandmother had given her earlier and went for broke. “If you two morons don’t cut it out, I’m calling Gram.”

That one got through, and her ears rang in the sudden quiet. Shaking her head to clear them, she went on. “Will you please tell me what has you guys at each other’s throats?”

They started in together, and she held up her hands. “One at a time. Start with explaining to me why the saws aren’t running.”

They glared at each other, but fortunately, Jason backed down. “You’re older. You go first.”

“As you can see,” Scott began with a dismissive motion toward the archaic equipment, “everything went haywire. Paul’s the only one who knows how to fix this relic, so I think we should call him.”

“And I don’t,” Jason chimed in, his jaw set with determination. “He needs to be with Chelsea right now, not worrying about this place.”

“You’re both right.” While she relayed her brief conversation with their big brother, she watched as their obstinate expressions gave way to worry. “Isn’t there someone else on the crew who can help with this?”

“Hank and Joe are gone all week for their annual fishing trip,” Scott replied. “We’ve got part-timers starting up next week, but we can’t run any more raw material without the saws. If we can’t figure out how to get them running, we’ll have to close down till one of those three comes back.”

Tess was hardly a manufacturing expert, but she understood that losing even a day or two of production this time of year would be a major setback for any business that was so reliant on the holidays for their annual revenue. Judging by the spreadsheets she’d been working on, profit margins at the sawmill were razor-thin as it was. If they lost any ground at all, the company her family had fought so hard to resurrect might very well end up back in bankruptcy.

It wasn’t only the Barretts who relied on sales of the custom furniture for their income, she knew. While the small staff of carpenters and assemblers worked only part-time, for many of them the extra money they earned made the difference between living comfortably and barely scraping by.

“You’re the college girl,” Jason teased her with a grin. “Any ideas?”

“No, I—” Inspiration struck, and she snapped her fingers. “What about Heath?”

“Mechanical genius,” Scott agreed, “but he’s got a job, remember?”

“Maybe I can talk Fred into giving him the afternoon off. You know, as a favor to us.”

“I’m married to his niece,” Jason pointed out. “So I’m practically family. I can go into town right now and ask him.”

His older brother vetoed that idea with a firm shake of his head. “You’ll stop by to have lunch with Amy, and I won’t see you the rest of the day. I can’t run this place by myself, y’know.”

Considering how they’d been going at it just a few minutes ago, Tess expected that to start another argument. To her relief, Jason conceded with a sheepish grin.

“Okay, you got me there,” he admitted. “Guess that means it’s up to you, Tess. Meantime, we’ll go outside and get some fresh lumber ready to go.”

In the time she’d spent getting to know the Southern branch of her family, she’d learned that was the Barrett spirit. They took their best run at Plan A, but if that didn’t work, they regrouped and tried something else. While she headed back to the office, it occurred to her that she must have inherited some of that natural resilience, too. If she could find a way to tap into it, maybe it would help her reboot her life. Solving this particular problem might not be a huge deal to some people, but for her it was definitely a step in the right direction.

It occurred to her that none of them had questioned whether or not Heath would agree to lend a hand with the cranky old machinery. Where she was from, that kind of assumption could get you in all kinds of trouble, but it seemed that here people pitched in when and where they could. She only hoped that once he diagnosed the problem, Heath didn’t discover he’d taken on more than he bargained for.

She was about to dial the number for Morgan’s Garage when another thought materialized. This wasn’t Los Angeles, it was Barrett’s Mill. Around here, folks probably didn’t ask for this kind of special consideration via email or over the phone. Basically, Fred would be giving up an afternoon of Heath’s valuable time, reassigning those jobs so his employee could go help someone else. If she wanted to do it right, she’d go in person.

She had to pick up the printer anyway, she reasoned as she got her purse and went out to the truck. While she was in town, she’d get some lunch for all of them. With the way things had gone today, it would be nice to eat something more than sandwiches out of paper bags.

Driving toward the main road, she glanced at the mill in the rearview mirror and allowed herself a little smile. She’d been here only a couple of days, but already she was actively involved in the family business. After being consumed by the fateful twists and turns she’d been trying to navigate, she’d finally taken off the blinders to find that her life held much more potential than she’d realized.

And it felt wonderful.

Even though it was late morning now, she had no trouble finding a parking spot near Mill Office Supply. Just another difference between the crowded streets she was used to and this charming village. No circling the block waiting for someone to pull out of a space barely long enough to accommodate a compact car. When she got back to LA, she’d have to remember to brush up on her parallel parking. She didn’t doubt that after a two-month break, she’d be sorely out of practice.

Inside the shop, she found the clerk perched on top of a ladder, arranging binders and composition books on one of the higher shelves. “Good morning.”