“That doesn’t sound good,” he says with a neutral accent.
“It’s not,” I confirm with a smile. “But I might have some time tomorrow morning to take a better look at it. I work down the road at Silver Ridge Farms, and we’ve got a pretty good setup to handle problems like this. Hell, we’d be screwed if we had to tow our machines every time there was a problem. I probably even have a spare pump lying around. It’s the head gasket that’ll be the biggest issue. I don’t have the right stuff for that.” I’m rambling. This guy’s so hot, he’s messing with my head.
I dive back under the tractor hood and tug on a few hoses and belts just to make sure I don’t miss anything major before straightening up and facing the man before me.
“Oh, shit!” he yells, waving a hand toward me. “Your shirt’s all greasy and wet now. I’m really sorry about all that. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.”
I bark out a laugh. “You aren’t from here, are you?” Yeah, it’ll suck to show up to this photoshoot dirty, but this is the country. If Sadie wants authentic pictures, it doesn’t get more authentic than this. “If the stains don’t come out, it’ll just become a work shirt. Can’t have too many of those.” Pointing to the tractor, I add, “She won’t budge without a tow. I’m on my way to a…meeting, but I can come back out for it later or in the mornin’. In the meantime, can I offer you a ride?” It’s impossible to miss the way the man’s gaze travels the length of my body as he slowly makes his way up to my face.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Depends on where he’s headed, but I can always call Sadie and tell her I’m going to be a few minutes late. Besides, for this tall, dark, and handsome drink of water, I’d happily be late to my own funeral.
“Not at all,” I reply, andfuck,my heart is racing.
He grabs something from the tractor’s dashboard and makes his way to my truck, easily climbing up. I’ve never really been self-conscious about my lack of money, and my old truck suits me just fine, but watching thiswell-put-together man smooth the stained seat cover over my torn leather seat makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Without missing a beat, he says, “I like your truck.” I’m pretty sure he’s being sincere, but I must give him some side eye because he quickly follows it up with, “I wasn’t being sarcastic. It’s refreshing to be in a vehicle that feels comfortable instead of feeling like I need gloves to touch anything.”
I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been in a vehicle like that, so I just nod. “Where am I taking you?”
“Oh, uh, Four Seasons Farm.” When I cock an eyebrow at him, he corrects himself. “Uh, you might know it as Thorndike’s place?”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline.
That’s where I’m headed.
“What do you do there?” I ask, probing without trying to be obvious.
“A little bit of everything, but mostly I fuck shit up,” he says with a laugh. “Like the tractor.”
His laugh makes me smile and sets me at ease enough to ask, “Are you new around here? It sounds cliché, but everyone knows everyone in this town, and I can’t say we’ve met.” I don’t add,and yours is a face I’d remember.
“Just moved here, actually. Bought the farm a few months ago, but had some loose ends to tie up before I could get out here permanently.” He extends his hand. “I’m Casey.”
Holding the wheel with my left hand, I offer him my right. “Mason.”
His hand slides into mine easily, and the contact with this extremely attractive man sends a shiver down my spine. I fight the movement with every fiber of my being and pray he doesn’t notice my reaction to his touch. He lingers for a second before pulling his hand back, and I already miss the warmth.
Our total drive only takes about four minutes since he literally broke down two miles from his farm. I’m disappointed when it’s time for him to get out. He guides me to the back of the property, where the farmhouse sits.
It’s beautiful.
I’ve been to Four Seasons Farm a few times, but not recently, and I’ve never seen the house.
It’s older with far more character than most of the homes I see on a regular basis.
“Wow. Helluva place,” I tell Casey.
“Yeah, it needed a little work, but it’s pretty perfect,” he says, surveying the house lovingly. “Well, hey, let me give you my number, and we can figure out the tractor thing a little later. I’m tied up for a while this evening, but if you’re around tomorrow, maybe that could work?”
“Sure,” I say, putting my number in his phone and handing it back.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mason. Thanks for the help, and sorry again about your shirt.”
“No problem. Just glad I was able to help.”
I put my truck in reverse, suddenly wishing I could cancel this photoshoot. What the hell will Casey think if he comes out front to find me doing God knows what with another man on his property? Then again, I know Sadie got permission for the shoot to be done here, but how much detail did she go into when asking permission?
