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She leans back in her seat and taps her chin in over-exaggerated thought. "You know, as much as I love a good stench pit, I believe it might be a little more pleasantly fragrant at the cottage I'm staying at. If you know where the Oliver sheep farm is, it's at the edge of their land."
"Sounds perfect," I say, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the deserted country road. The sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires fills the air as we drive toward the farm.
After a few moments of silence, I reach forward and click the radio on, soft music filling the car as I keep my focus on the road.
"Have you been a rancher long?" Mariah asks, and I shoot her a half grin.
"I thought you didn't want to do all that getting-to-know-you stuff."
Mariah smirks and tilts her head. "I may have said that, but I'm a curious person by nature. And it does feel a little odd to just sit here in silence the whole time."
"And here I was thinking the silence was building the anticipation."
Mariah chuckles softly before turning to look out at the passing landscape. "I think the soundtrack is a bit off for that,don't you think? If we're going for tension, we should find something a little more sultry instead of these maudlin country tunes." She raises an eyebrow and glances at the dashboard, prompting me to change the station.
"I'll have you know that country music is the heartbeat of this land," I defend with a playful grin, flipping through the stations until I stumble upon a jazz station with a smooth saxophone melody. "How's that, darlin'?" Mariah's smile widens as she sways to the rhythm.
"Much better," she says, giggling at the way the seat creaks with her movement. "And it sounds like we've got some percussion going on, too."
I chuckle and glance at her, my eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. I love how unrestrained she seems. A woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go get it.
Up ahead, lightning cracks across the dark sky, snatching my attention away from the gorgeously curvy woman beside me. "Storm's rolling in. Hopefully, we'll make it back to yours before?—”
A loud pop cuts me off, the truck swerving. "Shit!" I wrestle with the wheel, guiding us to the shoulder as the front tire starts making a thumping noise that I know isn't good. So much for making it back to her place.
"What was that?" Mariah asks.
I put the truck in park. "Looks like we've got a flat. I'll change it."
She reaches for her door handle. "Want some help?"
"Nah, you stay put. This storm'll hit soon and I don't want you catchin' your death out there. Besides, this won't take long."
I step out of the truck, feeling the ominous electricity in the air as the storm looms closer. The wind picks up, causing my jacket to billow around me like a protective shield. By the timeI retrieve the jack and spare tire from the truck bed, raindrops have already begun to fall.
I hurry to prop the jack under the truck, my hands slick with rain and determination. Mariah watches from inside, her gaze fixed on me with unrestrained interest. Guess she likes watching a man work. My head snaps up when the thunder rumbles overhead, a deep and resonating growl that I feel in the center of my chest.
As I crouch down beside the flat tire, the rain comes down in sheets, drenching me within seconds. The storm intensifies, turning the simple task of changing a tire into a battle against the elements.
"How's it going?" Mariah calls out suddenly. I look up to see her walking toward me, an old blanket from my backseat held over her head for protection.
"You're gonna get soaked!" I shout over the downpour.
"So are you. Do you have an umbrella or something? I'll hold it over you."
"I'm fine. I'm used to workin' outside. But you, city girl, need to get your ass back in the truck."
"Who says I'm a city girl?"
"Everything about you screams city," I tease, tossing her a grin as I free the final lug.
"Well, Mr. Country Boy, I may be from the city, but I certainly know how to handle a little rain."
I cock an eyebrow, intrigued by her stubbornness. "OK then, darlin'. Suit yourself," I say as she joins me at the front of the truck, the blanket held high above us like a makeshift shield. "Just watch your step and don't get hurt."
As if on cue, her foot sinks into a muddy hole. She slips with a startled yelp, landing on her backside in the muck.
I rush to her side, trying to stifle a laugh but failing miserably. "You OK there, darlin'?"
