Page 130 of Tempting Promises
“And you did good,” I note before going back to the damn tractor.
I can fix a lot of shit, but this one has me stumped. There’s nothing wrong that I can find. It fires up, runs for about three minutes, and then just dies. I’ve already replaced the battery and the alternator. Everything else looks to be fine.
“Still nothing?” Micah asks through the food in his mouth.
“Stop eating muffins and get in here. You’re better at mechanics than I am.”
This morning, when we arrived, there was a basket of muffins, orange juice, cups, plates, and coffee.
Instead of going to her to figure out why the hell we had breakfast waiting, I’m giving her the space she asked for—at least for another hour and then I’m storming the house.
“Looks like a loose plug there.” Micah points to the plug I just loosened.
“No shit, asshat. I pulled that out to check behind it.”
“Well, that’s loose. I helped.”
I huff, stand, wipe my hand, and toss the rag to the floor. “Since you’re such a pro at getting Donny to do what we want, why don’t you go down there, get the truck, and bring him back with you. That way, he can fix the fucking tractor.”
“I’ll see what I can do, boss.” He salutes me and leaves.
I need to find better help.
I stand up, looking at the mess, wondering what part of my brain thought I could fix a tractor and then I know exactly what part, the one that misses Charlotte. The part that wants for her to finally come to me, tell me that she trusts me to help her. Not fix it, but fucking help. I’ve realized that when you love someone, there is no mountain too high to climb to make them feel loved.
“Hey there, Cowboy.” I hear her voice from behind me.
I turn, and I swear, I’m every fucking cliché that has ever lived. She literally takes my breath away.
She’s not dressed in anything special, just jeans and a half-untucked T-shirt. She has a baseball hat on with her hair coming out the back opening, and she has a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Is that for me?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Charlotte shrugs. “It could be. Do you want it?”
“Not at this moment,” I say.
She lifts the mug and takes a sip. “Are you sure? It’s really good coffee.”
I could give two flying fucks about the coffee. I want her. I want her so much I’m having to stay perfectly still so I don’t maul her.
“I’m not really interested in the coffee.”
“No?” Charlotte asks, all innocence in those green eyes.
“No.”
“Shame. I spent about ten minutes preparing the perfect blend.I took a dark and a medium roast, blended them together, and then added the right balance of cream and sugar.” She tsks. “It’s sort of perfect.”
Her standing here right now is perfect. I don’t give a damn about the coffee. I take a step, breaking my control, the need to be even an inch closer to her too great to resist.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Her long lashes flutter, and then she lowers the mug. “This is my land, at least for another few months, if I’m lucky. I think the question, Cowboy, is why are you here?”
